Disclaim'd of heaven! * mad av'rice at thy side All nations curse thee: and with eager wond'ring Of central fires thro' nether seas upthund'ring Soothes her fierce solitude; yet, as she lies 1 By livid fount, or roar of blazing stream, If ever to her lidless dragon-eyes, O Albion! thy predestin'd ruins rise, * The Poet from having considered the peculiar advantages which this country has enjoyed, passes in rapid transition to the uses which we have made of these advantages. We have been preserved by our insular situation, from suffering the actual horrors of war ourselves, and we have shown our gratitude to Providence, for this immunity by our eagerness to spread those horrors over nations less happily situated. In the midst of plenty and safety we have raised or joined the yell for famine and blood. Of the one hundred and seven last years, fifty have been years of war. Such wickedness cannot pass unpunished. We have been proud and confident in our alliances and our fleets-but God has prepared the canker-worm, and will smite the gourds of our pride. "Art thou better than populous No, that was situate among the rivers, that had the waters round about it, whose rampart was the sea? Ethiopia and Egypt were her strength, and it was infinite; Put and Lubin were her helpers. Yet she was carried away, she went into captivity; and they cast lots for her honourable men, and all her great men were bound in chains. Thou also shalt be drunken; all thy strong-holds shall be like fig trees with the first ripe figs; if they be shaken, they shall ever fall into the mouth of the eater. Thou hast multiplied thy merchants above the stars of heaven. Thy cowned are as the locusts; and thy captains as the great grasshoppers which camp in the hedges in the cool-day; but when the sun ariseth they flee away, and their place is not known where they are. There is no healing of thy bruise; thy wound is grievous; all that hear the report of thee, shall clap the hands over thee; for upon whom hath not thy wickedness passed continually?" -NAHUM, CHAP. II. The fiend-hag on her perilous couch doth leap, Mutt'ring distemper'd triumph in her charmed sleep. Away, my soul, away! In vain, in vain, the birds of warning sing- I, unpartaking of the evil thing, Have wail'd my country with a loud lament. In the deep sabbath of blest self-content; MONODY ON THE DEATH OF CHATTERTON. WHEN faint and sad o'er Sorrow's desart wild Thee, CHATTERTON! yon unblest stones protect Yet oft ('tis nature's call) I weep, that heaven-born genius so should fall; Now groans my sickening heart, as still I view And now a flash of indignation high Darts thro' the tear, that glistens in mine eye! Is this the land of song-ennobled line? Ah me! yet Spenser, gentlest bard divine, Pity hopeless hung her head, While "mid the pelting of that merciless storm," Sunk to the cold earth Otway's famish'd form! Sublime of thought, and confident of fame, How dauntless Ella fray'd the Dacyan foes; Glitter the sunny visions fair, His eyes dance rapture, and his bosom glows! Yes! clad in nature's rich array, And bright in all her tender hues, Sweet tree of hope! thou loveliest child of spring Most fair didst thou disclose thine early bloom, * Avon, a river near Bristol, the birth-place of Chatterton. Loading the west-winds with its soft perfume! On every blossom hung her fostering dews, That, changeful, wonton'd to the orient day! But soon upon thy poor unshelter'd head Did penury her sickly mildew shed. And soon the scathing Light'ning bade thee stand In frowning horror o'er the blighted land! Ah! where are fled the charms of vernal Grace, Prepar'd the poison's power: Already to thy lips was rais'd the bowl, When near thee stood Affection meek (Her bosom bare, and wildly pale her cheek) Thy sullen gaze she bade thee roll On scenes that well might melt thy soul; See, see her breast's convulsive throe, Ah! dash the poison'd chalice from thy hand! And thou had'st dash'd it, at her soft command, But that Despair and Indignation rose, And told again the story of thy woes; Told the keen insult of th' unfeeling heart; The dread dependence on the low-born mind; Told every pang, with which thy soul must smart, Neglect, and grinning Scorn, and Want combin'd! Recoiling quick, thou bad'st the friend of pain Roll the black tide of Death thro' every freezing vein! Ye woods! that wave o'er Avon's rocky steep, When most the big soul feels the mad'ning pow'r, Round which the screaming sea-gulls soar, With wild unequal steps he pass'd along, Anon, upon some rough rocks fearful brow Would pause abrupt—and gaze upon the waves below. Poor Chatterton! he sorrows for thy fate Who would have prais'd and lov'd thee, ere too late. Poor Chatterton! farewell! of darkest hues This chaplet cast I on thy unshap'd tomb; Lest kindred woes persuade a kindred doom. |