Thenceforth your soul rejoiced to see O beautiful! O Nature's child! 'Twas thence you hailed the platform wild, Where once the Austrian fell Beneath the shaft of Tell! O Lady, nursed in pomp and pleasure! Thence learn'd you that heroic measure. ON AN INFANT WHICH DIED BEFORE BAPTISM. "BE, rather than be called, a child of God," Death whispered!-with assenting nod, Its head upon its mother's breast, The Baby bowed, without demur— Of the kingdom of the Blest Possessor, not inheritor. EPITAPH ON AN INFANT. Irs balmy lips the infant blest And such my infant's latest sigh! HYMN TO THE EARTH. HEXAMETERS. EARTH! thou mother of numberless children, the nurse and the mother, Hail! O Goddess, thrice hail! Blest be thou! and, blessing, I hymn thee! Forth, ye sweet sounds! from my harp, and my voice shall float on your surges Soar thou aloft, O my soul! and bear up my song on thy pinions. Travelling the vale with mine eyes-green meadows and lake with green island, Dark in its basin of rock, and the bare stream flowing in brightness, Thrilled with thy beauty and love in the wooded slope of the mountain, Here, great mother, I lie, thy child, with his head on thy bosom! Playful the spirits of noon, that rushing soft through thy tresses, Green-haired goddess! refresh me; and hark! as they hurry or linger, Fill the pause of my harp, or sustain it with musical murmurs. Into my being thou murmurest joy, and tenderest sadness Shedd'st thou, like dew, on my heart, till the joy and the heavenly sadness Pour themselves forth from my heart in tears, and the hymn of thanksgiving. Earth! thou mother of numberless children, the nurse and the mother, Sister thou of the stars, and beloved by the sun, the rejoicer! Guardian and friend of the moon, O Earth, whom the comets forget not, Yea, in the measureless distance wheel round and again they behold thee! Fadeless and young (and what if the latest birth of creation ?) Bride and consort of Heaven, that looks down upon thee enamoured! Say, mysterious Earth! O say, great mother and goddess, Was it not well with thee then, when first thy lap was ungirdled, Thy lap to the genial Heaven, the day that he wooed thee and won thee! Fair was thy blush, the fairest and first of the blushes of morning! Deep was the shudder, O Earth! the throe of thy self retention: Inly thou strovest to flee, and didst seek thyself at thy centre! Mightier far was the joy of thy sudden resilience; and forthwith Myriad myriads of lives teemed forth from the mighty embracement. Thousand-fold tribes of dwellers, impelled by thousandfold instincts, Filled, as a dream, the wide waters; the rivers sang on their channels; Laughed on their shores the hoarse seas; the yearning ocean swelled upward; Young life lowed through the meadows, the woods, and the echoing mountains, Wandered bleating in valleys, and warbled on blossoming branches. UTTER the MAHOMET. song, 0 my soul! the flight and return of Mohammed, Prophet and priest, who scatter'd abroad both evil and blessing, Huge wasteful empires founded and hallow'd slow persecution, Soul-withering, but crush'd the blasphemous rites of the Pagan And idolatrous Christians.-For veiling the Gospel of Jesus, They, the best corrupting, had made it worse than the vilest. Wherefore Heaven decreed th' enthusiast warrior of Mecca, Choosing good from iniquity rather than evil from goodness. Loud the tumult in Mecca surrounding the fane of the idol ; Naked and prostrate the priesthood were laid—the people with mad shouts Thundering now, and now with saddest ululation Flew, as over the channel of rock-stone the ruinous river Shatters its waters abreast, and in mazy uproar bewilder'd, Rushes dividuous all-all rushing impetuous onward. THE VIRGIN'S CRADLE-HYMN. COPIED FROM A PRINT OF THE VIRGIN, IN A ROMAN CATHOLIC VILLAGE IN GERMANY. DORMI, Jesu! Mater ridet Quæ tam dulcem somnum videt, Blande, veni, somnule. ENGLISH. Sleep, sweet babe! my cares beguiling: If thou sleep not, mother mourneth, WRITTEN DURING A TEMPORARY BLINDNESS, IN THE YEAR 1799. O, WHAT a life is the eye! what a strange and inscrutable essence! Him, that is utterly blind, nor glimpses the fire that warms him; Him that never beheld the swelling breast of his mother; Him that smiled in his gladness as a babe that smiles in its slumber; |