Unblamed-if the Soul be intent on the day

When the Being of Beings shall summon her hence

For he and he only with wisdom is blest

they grow,

Looks up in all places, for joy or for rest, To the Fountain whence Time and Eternity

flow.

XX.

With justice mark not Thou, O Light di

vine,

My fault, nor hear it with thy sacred ear;
Neither put forth that way thy arm severe;
Wash with thy blood my sins; thereto in-
cline

More readily the more my years require
Help, and forgiveness speedy and entire.

XXIII.

AMONG THE RUINS OF A CONVENT IN
THE APENNINES.

YE Trees! whose slender roots entwine
Altars that piety neglects;
Whose infant arms enclasp the shrine
Which no devotion now respects;
If not a straggler from the herd
Here ruminate, nor shrouded bird,
Chanting her low-voiced hymn, take pride
In aught that ye would grace or hide-
How sadly is your love misplaced,
Fair Trees, your bounty run to waste!
Ye, too, wild Flowers! that no one heeds,
And ye-full often spurned as weeds-
In beauty clothed, or breathing sweetness
From fractured arch and mouldering wall-
Do but more touchingly recall
Man's headstrong violence and Time's
fleetness,

Making the precincts ye adorn
Appear to sight still more forlorn.

XXV.

AFTER LEAVING ITALY.

FAIR Land! Thee all men greet with joy how few,

Whose souls take pride in freedom, virtue, fame,

Part from thee without pity dyed in shame; I could not-while from Venice we withdrew,

Led on till an Alpine strait confined our view

Within its depths, and to the shore we

came

Of Lago Morto, dreary sight and name, Which o'er sad thoughts a sadder coloring threw.

Italia! on the surface of thy spirit,

(Too aptly emblemed by that torpid lake) Shall a few partial breezes only creep?Be its depths quickened; what thou dost inherit

Of the world's hopes, dare to fulfil; awake, Mother of Heroes, from thy death-like sleep!

XXVI. CONTINUED.

As indignation mastered grief, my tongue With those rich stores of Nature's imagery, Spake bitter words; words that did ill agree And divine Art, that fast to memory clung

Thy gifts, magnificent Region, ever young In the sun's eye, and in his sister's sight How beautiful! how worthy to be sung In streams of rapture, or subdued delight! feign not; witness that unwelcome shock That followed the first sound of German. Caught the far-winding barrier Alps among. speech, In that announcement, greeting seemed to mock

Parting the casual word had power to reach

My heart, and filled that heart with conflict strong.

XXVII.

COMPOSED AT RYDAL ON MAY MORNING, 1838.

IF with old love of you, dear Hills! I share New love of many a rival image brought From far, forgive the wanderings of my thought:

Nor art thou wronged, sweet May! when 1 compare

Thy present birth-morn with thy last, so fair,

So rich to me in favors. For my lot
Then was, within the famed Egerian Grot
To sit and muse, fanned by its dewy air
Mingling with thy soft breath! That morn-
ing too,

Warblers I heard their joy unbosoming
Amid the sunny, shadowy, Coliseum;
Heard them, unchecked by augi:t of sadden-
ing hue,

For victories there won by flower-crowned Spring,

Chant in full choir their innocent Te Deum.

XXVIII.

THE PILLAR OF TRAJAN.

WHERE towers are crushed, and unforbidden weeds

O'er mutilated arches shed their seeds; And temples, doomed to milder change, unfold

A new magnificence that vies with old ;
Firm in its pristine majesty hath stood
A votive Column, spared by fire and
flood

And, though the passions of man's fretful

race

Have never ceased to eddy round its base, Not injured more by touch of meddling hands

Than a lone obelisk, 'mid Nubian sands,
Or aught in Syrian deserts left to save
From death the memory of the good and
brave.

Historic figures round the shaft embost
Ascend, with lineaments in air not lost :
Still as he turns, the charmed spectator

sees

Group winding after group with dream-like

ease,

Triumphs in sunbright gratitude displayed,
Or softly stealing into modest shade.
-So, pleased with purple clusters to en-

twine

Borne by the Muse from rills in shep herds' cars,

Murmuring but one smooth story for all years,

I gladly commune with the mind and heart
Of him who thus survives by classic art,
His actions witness, venerate his mien,
And study Trajan as by Pliny seen;
Behold how fought the Chief whose con-
quering sword

Stretched far as earth might own a single lord:

In the delight of moral prudence schooled,
How feelingly at home the Sovereign ruled;
Best of the good-in pagan faith allied
To more than Man, by virtue deified.

Memorial Pillar! 'mid the wrecks of
Time

Preserve thy charge with confidence sublime

The exultations, pomps, and cares of Rome, Whence half the breathing world received its doom;

Things that recoil from language; that, if

shown

By apter pencil, from the light had flown. A Pontiff, Trajan here the Gods implores, There greets an Embassy from Indian

shores :

Lo! he harangues his cohorts--there the

storm

Of battle meets him in authentic form! Unharnessed, naked, troops of Moorish horse

Sweep to the charge; more high, the Dacian force,

To hoof and finger mailed ;--yet, high or low,

None bleed, and none lie prostrate but the foe;

In every Roman, through all turns of fate,
Is Roman dignity inviolate;

Spirit in him pre-eminent, who guides,
Supports, adorns, and over all presides;
Distinguished only by inherent state
From honored Instruments that round him
wait;

Rise as he may, his grandeur scorns the test
Of outward symbol, nor will deign to rest
On aught by which another is deprest.

The woodbine so, with spiral grace, and breathes

Wide-spreading odors from her flowery wreaths.

So emulous of Macedonian fame, That, when his age was measured with his aim,

Soft was the wind, that landward blew; And, as the Moon, o'er some dark hill ascendant,

Grows from a little edge of light
To a full orb, this Pinnace bright
Became, as nearer to the coast she drew",
More glorious, with spread sail and streaming
pendant.

Upon the winged Shape so fair
Sage Merlin gazed with admiration:
Her lineaments, thought he, surpass
Aught that was ever shown in magic glass;
Was ever built with patient care;

Or, at a touch, produced by happiest transformation.

Now, though a Mechanist whose skill Shames the degenerate grasp of modern science,

Grave Merlin (and belike the more

Behold, how wantonly she laves

Her sides, the Wizard's craft confounding;
Like something out of Ocean sprung
To be forever fresh and young,

Breasts the sea-flashes, and huge waves Top-gallant high, rebounding and rebounding!

But Ocean under magic heaves,

And cannot spare the Thing he cherished: Ah! what avails that she was fair, Luminous, blithe, and debonair?

The storm has stripped her of her leaves; The Lily floats no longer!-She hath perished.

Grieve for her, she deserves no less;
So like, yet so unlike, a living Creature!
No heart had she, no busy brain;
Though loved, she could not love again;
Though pitied feel her own distress;
Nor aught that troubles us, the fools of
Nature.

Yet is there cause for gushing tears,
So richly was this Galley laden;

A fairer than herself she bore,
And, in her struggles, cast ashore;
A lovely One, who nothing hears

Of wind or wave-a meek and guileless
Maiden.

Into a cave had Merlin fled

From mischief, caused by spells himself had muttered:

And while, repentant all too late,
In moody posture there he sate,

He heard a voice, and saw, with half raised head,

A Visitant by whom these words were uttered :

"On Christian service this frail Bark Sailed (hear me, Merlin !) under high protection,

Though on her prow a sign of heathen power

Was carved-a Goddess with a Lily flower,

The old Egyptian's emblematic mark Of joy immortal and of pure affection.

Her course was for the British strand; Her freight, it was a Damsel peerless; God reigns above, and Spirits strong May gather to avenge this wrong Done to the Princess, and her Land Which she in duty left, sad but not cheerless.

And to Caerleon's loftiest tower

Soon will the Knights of Arthur's Table A cry of lamentation send;

And all will weep who there attend, To grace that Stranger's bridal hour, For whom the sea was made unnavigable. Shame! should a Child of royal line Die through the blindness of thy malice!" Thus to the Necromancer spake Nina, the Lady of the Lake,

A gentle Sorceress, and benign, Who ne'er embittered any good man s

chalice.

"What boots," continued she, "to

mourn?

To expiate thy sin endeavor:
From the bleak isle where she is laid,
Fetched by our art, the Egyptian Maid
May yet to Arthur's court be borne
Cold as she is, ere life be fled forever.

My pearly Boat, a shining Light,
That brought me down that sunless river,
Will bear me on from wave to wave,
And back with her to this sea-cave ;-
Then Merlin! for a rapid flight

Through air, to thee my Charge will I deliver.

The very swiftest of thy cars

Must, when my part is done, be ready Meanwhile, for further guidance, look Into thy own prophetic book; And, if that fail, consult the Stars To learn thy course; farewell! be prompt and steady."

This scarcely spoken, she again Was seated in her gleaming shallop, That, o'er the yet-distempered Deep, Pursued its way with bird-like sweep, Or like a steed, without a rein, Urged o'er the wilderness in sportive gallop. Soon did the gentle Nina reach That Isle without a house or haven; Landing, she found not what she sought, Nor saw of wreck or ruin aught

But a carved Lotus cast upon the beach By the fierce waves, a flower in marble graven.

Sad relique, but how fair the while! For gently each from each retreating With backward curve, the leaves revealed The bosom half, and half concealed, Of a Divinity, that seemed to smile On Nina, as she passed, with hopeful greet

ing.