Felt in its quicken'd veins a pulse like youth; And lisping babes were taught to bless their King; And grandsires bade the children treasure up. The precious sight, for it would be a tale

The which in their old age

10.

O for a voice that might recall To their deserted hearths Thy truant sons! a voice Whose virtuous cogency

Intent, all ears to hear.

6.

Were then the feelings of that generous time
Ephemeral as the joy?

Pass'd they away like summer clouds,
Like dreams of infancy,

Like glories of the evening firmament,

Which fade, and leave no trace? Merciful Heaven, oh, let not thou the hope Be frustrate, that our Sister Isle may reap, From the good seed then sown, Full harvests of prosperity and peace; That perfect union may derive its date

From that auspicious day,

And equitable ages thence
Their lasting course begin!

7.

Green Island of the West,
While frantic violence delays

That happier order, still must thou remain
In thine own baleful darkness wrapp'd;
As if the Eye divine,

That which beholdeth all, from thee alone In wrath had turn'd away!

8.

But not forever thus shalt thou endure,

To thy reproach, and ours,
Thy misery, and our shame!

For Mercy shall go forth

To stablish Order, with an arm'd right hand; And firm Authority,

With its all-present strength, control the bad, And, with its all-sufficient shield,

Protect the innocent:

The first great duty this of lawful Power, Which holds its delegated right from Heaven.

9.

The first great duty this; but this not all; For more than comes within the scope Of Power, is needed here; More than to watch insidious discontent, Curb, and keep curb'd, the treasonable tongue, And quell the madden'd multitude: Labors of love remain;

To weed out noxious customs rooted deep
In a rank soil, and long left seeding there;
Pour balm into old wounds, and bind them up;
Remove remediable ills,
Improve the willing mind,
And win the generous heart.
Afflicted Country, from thyself
Must this redemption come;

And thou hast children able to perform
This work of faith and hope.

Nor when the war is waged
With Error, and the brood

Of Darkness, will your aid

Be wanting in the cause of Light and Love, Ye Ministers of that most holy Church, Whose firm foundations on the rock

Of Scripture rest secure!

What though the Romanist, in numbers strong, In misdirected zeal

And bigotry's blind force,

Assail your Fortress; though the sons of Schism
Join in insane alliance with that old,
Inveterate enemy,

Weening thereby to wreak
Their covenanted hatred, and effect
Your utter overthrow;

What though the unbelieving crew,

For fouler purpose, aid the unnatural league ; And Faction's wolfish pack

Set up their fiercest yell, to augment

The uproar of assault;

Clad in your panoply will ye be found, Wielding the spear of Reason, with the sword Of Scripture girt; and from your shield of Truth Such radiance shall go forth,

As when, unable to sustain its beams On Arthur's arm unveil'd, Earth-born Orgoglio reel'd, as if with wine; And, from her many-headed beast cast down, Duessa fell, her cup of sorcery spilt, Her three-crown'd mitre in the dust devolved, And all her secret filthiness exposed.

12.

O thou fair Island, with thy Sister Isle
Indissolubly link'd for weal and woe;
Partaker of her present power,
Her everlasting fame;

Dear pledges hast thou render'd and received
Of that eternal union! Bedell's grave
Is in thy keeping; and with thee
Deposited doth Taylor's holy dust
Await the Archangel's call.

O land profuse of genius and of worth, Largely hast thou received, and largely given!

13.

Green Island of the West,

The example of unspotted Ormond's faith

To thee we owe; to thee
Boyle's venerable name ;
Berkeley the wise, the good;
And that great Orator who first
Unmask'd the harlot sorceress Anarchy,
What time, in Freedom's borrowed form profaned,
She to the nations round

Her draught of witchcraft gave;
And him who in the field

O'erthrew her giant offspring in his strength,
And brake the iron rod.

Proud of such debt,

Rich to be thus indebted, these,

Fair Island, Sister Queen

Of Ocean, Ireland, these to thee we owe.

14.

Shall I then imprecate

A curse on them that would divide Our union? - Far be this from me, O Lord! Far be it! What is man,

That he should scatter curses? - King of Kings, Father of all, Almighty, Governor

Of all things! unto Thee

Humbly I offer up our holier prayer!
I pray Thee, not in wrath,

But in thy mercy, to confound
These men's devices. Lord!

Lighten their darkness with thy Gospel light,
And thus abate their pride,
Assuage their malice thus !

Keswick, 1821.

ODE

WRITTEN AFTER THE KING'S VISIT TO SCOTLAND.

1.

Ar length hath Scotland seen
The presence long desired;

The pomp of royalty
Hath gladden'd once again
Her ancient palace, desolate how long!
From all parts far and near,
Highland and lowland, glen and fertile carse,
The silent mountain lake, the busy port,
Her populous cities, and her pastoral hills,
In generous joy convened

By the free impulse of the loyal heart Her sons have gather'd, and beheld their King.

2.

Land of the loyal, as in happy hour
Revisited, so was thy regal seat
In happy hour for thee

Forsaken, under favoring stars, when James

His valediction gave,
And great Eliza's throne
Received its rightful heir,
The Peaceful and the Just.

And place, his rising and his refluent tide
Majestic Thames, the royal river, rolls;
And that which, high in air,

A bending line suspended, shall o'erhang
Menai's straits, as if

By Merlin's mighty magic there sustain'd; And Pont-Cyssylté, not less wondrous work; Where, on gigantic columns raised Aloft, a dizzying height,

The laden barge pursues its even way, While o'er his rocky channel the dark Dee Hurries below, a raging stream, scarce heard. And that huge mole, whose deep foundations, firm As if by Nature laid,

Repel the assailing billows, and protect The British fleet, securely riding there, Though southern storms possess the sea and sky, And, from its depths commoved, Infuriate ocean raves.

Ye stately monuments of Britain's power, Bear record ye what Scottish minds Have plann'd and perfected! With grateful wonder shall posterity See the stupendous works, and Rennie's name, And Telford's shall survive, till time Leave not a wreck of sublunary things.

7. Him too may I attest for Scotland's praise, Who seized and wielded first

The mightiest element

That lies within the scope of man's control;
Of evil and of good,

Prolific spring, and dimly yet discern'd
The immeasurable results.

The mariner no longer seeks

Wings from the wind; creating now the power
Wherewith he wins his way,

Right on across the ocean-flood he steers
Against opposing skies;

And reaching now the inmost continent, Up rapid streams, innavigable else, Ascends with steady progress, self-propell'd.

8.

Nor hath the Sister kingdom borne
In science and in arms
Alone, her noble part;

There is an empire which survives
The wreck of thrones, the overthrow of realms,
The downfall, and decay, and death
Of Nations. Such an empire in the mind
Of intellectual man

Rome yet maintains, and elder Greece, and such, By indefeasible right,

Hath Britain made her own.

How fair a part doth Caledonia claim
In that fair conquest! Wheresoe'er
The British tongue may spread,
(A goodly tree, whose leaf
No winter e'er shall nip,)

Earthly immortals, there, her sons of fame,
Will have their heritage.

In eastern and in occidental Ind;
The new antarctic world, where sable swans
Glide upon waters call'd by British names,
And plough'd by British keels;
In vast America, through all its length
And breadth, from Massachusett's populous coast
To western Oregan;

And from the southern gulf,
Where the great river with his turbid flood
Stains the green Ocean, to the polar sea.

9.

There nations yet unborn shall trace
In Hume's perspicuous page,

How Britain rose, and through what storms attain'd
Her eminence of power.

In other climates, youths and maidens there Shall learn from Thomson's verse in what attire The various seasons, bringing in their change Variety of good,

Revisit their beloved English ground. There, Beattie! in thy sweet and soothing strain Shall youthful poets read

Their own emotions. There, too, old and young, Gentle and simple, by Sir Walter's tales Spell-bound, shall feel

Imaginary hopes and fears

Strong as realities,

And, waking from the dream, regret its close.

10.

These, Scotland, are thy glories; and thy praise
Is England's, even as her power
And opulence of fame are thine.
So hath our happy union made
Each in the other's weal participant,
Enriching, strengthening, glorifying both.

11.

O House of Stuart, to thy memory still
For this best benefit

Should British hearts in gratitude be bound!
A deeper tragedy

Than thine unhappy tale hath never fill'd
The historic page, nor given
Poet or moralist his mournful theme.
O House severely tried,

And in prosperity alone

Found wanting, Time hath closed

Thy tragic story now!

Errors, and virtues fatally betrayed,
Magnanimous suffering, vice,

Weakness, and headstrong zeal, sincere, tho' blind,
Wrongs, calumnies, heart-wounds,
Religious resignation, earthly hopes,
Fears, and affections, these have had their course,
And over them in peace

The all-ingulfing stream of years hath closed.
But this good work endures;

'Stablish'd and perfected by length of days,
The indissoluble union stands.

12.

Nor hath the sceptre from that line Departed, though the name hath lost Its regal honors. Trunk and root have fail'd: A scion from the stock

Liveth and flourisheth. It is the Tree Beneath whose sacred shade, In majesty and peaceful power serene, The Island Queen of Ocean hath her seat; Whose branches far and near Extend their sure protection; whose strong roots Are with the Isle's foundations interknit; Whose stately summit, when the storm careers Below, abides unmoved, Safe in the sunshine and the peace of Heaven. Keswick, 1822.

THE WARNING VOICE.

ODE I.

1.

TAKE up thy prophecy,

Thou dweller in the mountains, who hast nursed
Thy soul in solitude,

Holding communion with immortal minds,
Poets and Sages of the days of old;

And with the sacred food Of meditation and of lore divine

Hast fed thy heavenly part; Take up thy monitory strain. O son of song, a strain severe Of warning and of woe!

2.

O Britain, O my Mother Isle,
Ocean's imperial Queen,
Thou glory of all lands!

Is there a curse upon thee, that thy sons
Would rush to ruin, drunk

With sin, and in infuriate folly blind?

Hath Hell enlarged itself,

And are the Fiends let loose
To work thine overthrow?

3.

For who is she

That, on the many-headed Beast
Triumphantly enthroned,

Doth ride abroad in state,

The Book of her Enchantments in her hand?
Her robes are stain'd with blood,
And on her brazen front

Is written BLASPHEMY.

4.

Know ye not then the Harlot? know ye not Her shameless forehead, her obdurate eye, Her meretricious mien,

Her loose, immodest garb, with slaughter foul!
Your Fathers knew her; when delirious France,

Drunk with her witcheries,
Upon the desecrated altar set
The Sorceress, and, with rites
Inhuman and accurst,
O'er all the groaning land
Perform'd her sacrifice.

5.

Your Fathers knew her! when the nations round
Received her maddening spell,

And call'd her Liberty,
And in that name proclaim'd
A jubilee for guilt;

When their blaspheming hosts defied high Heaven,
And wheresoe'er they went let havock loose;
Your Fathers knew the Sorceress! They stood firm,
And, in that hour of trial faithful found,
They raised the Red Cross flag.

6.

They knew her; and they knew That not in scenes of rapine and of blood,

In lawless riotry,

And wallowing with the multitude obscene, Would Liberty be found!

Her in her form divine,

Her genuine form, they knew;

For Britain was her home;

With Order and Religion there she dwelt; It was her chosen seat,

Her own beloved Isle.

Think not that Liberty

From Order and Religion e'er will dwell Apart; companions they

Of heavenly seed connate.

7.

Woe, woe for Britain, woe!
If that society divine,

By lewd and impious uproar driven,

Indignantly should leave

The land that in their presence hath been blest! Woe, woe! for in her streets

Should gray-hair'd Polity

Be trampled under foot by ruffian force,
And Murder to the noon-day sky

Lift his red hands, as if no God were there,
War would lay waste the realm;

Devouring fire consume

Temples and Palaces;

Nor would the lowliest cot

Escape that indiscriminating storm,

When Heaven upon the guilty nation pour'd The vials of its wrath.

8.

These are no doubtful ills!

The unerring voice of Time

Warns us that what hath been again shall be ;
And the broad beacon-flame
Of History casts its light
Upon Futurity.

9.

Turn not thy face away,

Almighty! from the realm

By thee so highly favored, and so long. Thou who in war hast been our shield and strength, From famine who hast saved us, and hast bade The Earthquake and the Pestilence go by, Spare us, O Father! save us from ourselves! From insane Faction, who prepares the pit In which itself would fall; From rabid Treason's rage, The poor priest-ridden Papist's erring zeal, The lurking Atheist's wiles,The mad Blasphemer's venom, - from our foes, Our follies and our errors, and our sins, Save us, O Father! for thy mercy's sake, Thou who ALONE canst save!

Who raised, in menacing act, his awful arm; He spake aloud, and thrill'd

My inmost soul with fear.

8.

"Woe Woe!

Woe to the city where Faction reigns! Woe to the land where Sedition prevails! Woe to the nation whom Hell deceives! Woe! Woe!

They have eyes, and they will not see! They have ears, and they will not hear! They have hearts, and they will not feel! Woe to the People who fasten their eyes! Woe to the People who deafen their ears! Woe to the People who harden their hearts! Woe! Woe !

The vials are charged;
The measure is full;
The wrath is ripe ;-

Woe! Woe!"