The visionary; a fragment, with other poems ..

,

. ' -

THE

VISIONARY;

A FRAGMENT.

Poems*

LADY E. S. WORTLEY.

LONGMAN, REES, ORME, BROWN, GREEN,
AND LONGMAN.

HIS GRACE
THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON,

&c. &c. &c.

THE FOLLOWING PAGES
ARE INSCRIBED.

Mightiest 'mongst Earth's most mighty Chiefs — forgive
If thy proud name be uttered midst these lays,
That name made glorious in a thousand ways !

That name which through all Time must hrightly live —

Though he, all others should of Fame bereave !
It is thy Doom, who shinest amidst the blaze
Of dazzling Deeds — to pay that tax which pays

Earthly supremacy ! — even to receive

Tributes from all — and Homage without bound —
Aye ! offerings from the unworthiest hands full oft —

Thou that art meetly with all honours crowned ! —
Whose place is with the Immortal Great aloft —

Yet canst thou — more than thy Compeers renowned ! —
Forgive this Lyre's poor praise, and weak, faint numbers
soft?

2030173

ERRATA.

Page 22, line 12, for ye Commonwealth, read proud Commonwealth

31, line 3, for dress read dross.

97, line 13, for wild weed-growths, read wild-weed growths.

176, line 3, for appear, read appears.

205, line 8, for it, read them.

207, line 10, for those, read these.

208, line 11, for Peace, read Peace1.

Of strife and trouble — happier far alone,

When thought doth take a more melodious tone,
And outward things assume a lovelier guise,

And more delightful grows the wind's low moan,
And Earth seems nearer to the blessed skies,
And they stand breathless, mute, as fixed in sweet

surprise !

THE VISIONARY:
a jFragment,

i.

In this cold hollow World how many live
In a dream- wrought Creation of their own,

And slight attention to its vexed scenes give
Of strife and trouble — happier far alone,
When thought doth take a more melodious tone,

And outward things assume a lovelier guise,

And more delightful grows the wind's low moan,

And Earth seems nearer to the blessed skies,
And they stand breathless, mute, as fixed in sweet

2 THE VISIONARY.

II.

Oh ! the triumphal morning comes to such,

For ever beautiful — for ever new,
Dull worldly Care's benumbing cankering touch,

Hath nothing with their waking hours to do ;

They hear the birds' sweet matins — and they view
Light's dawning glory — and no rankling thorn

To pain converts their pleasure, pure and true —
While thou, resplendent and rejoicing Morn,
Art in a thousand ways — a thousand shapes new-born !

III.

Or when on luminous occupation bent,

The thrilling stars make night a glorious scene,
Like proud ambassadors from Heaven's court sent,

That speak to man in language most serene ;

When wondrous Nature doth a holier mien
Assume — and Thought, on strong wings passes on

To that which shall be, even from what hath been —
And Contemplation pure, and deep and lone,
Seeks Worlds more blest, more bright, round the

Creator's throne.

THE VISIONARY. g

IV.

They 're tranced and rocked then, on Night's mighty heart,
And thence drink Inspiration — they are led

By their own yearning thoughts to stray apart,
And lonely paths they brightly musing tread —
So deep grows their delight, it pants like dread.

But they grow ever stronger to sustain,
And revel in the gladness o'er them shed,

Even though it almost quickens into pain ;
And they would feel it still, again and oft again !

V.

They hear a mighty music deep and clear,

Where busy careful worldlings can hear nought;

Oh ! many a blessed thing they see and hear

With truth and love, and power and feeling fraught,
Because to Nature's altar they have brought

A watchful spirit, and a quick sense borne,
Most willing to be led, and to be taught —

And farthest from their thoughts are doubt and scorn ;
Thus doubly blessed to them, come night and joyous
morn !

u 2

4 THE VISIONARY.

VI.

Am I of such? — a something I may claim

Of fellowship with them — yet woe is me—
* Not altogether can I be the same,

Though if I could how gladly ivould I be !

But though I am as fervent and as free —
Too much of an impatient restlessness ;

Nay, oft an aimless dim anxiety
Blends with my happier feelings — to oppress —
To o'erpower them oft, when they should most delight

and bless !

VII.
Yet partly I do claim with those to feel ;

Mine is the prescient sense, the passionate dream,
The ecstatic thrill that through the frame doth steal,

Mixed with a glow that we might almost deem

Was breathed in with a noon-sun's molten beam !
So warmly through the soul it seems to spread,

Till rosy runs life's smoothly flowing stream ;
As though by highest, heavenliest springs 'twas fed,
As though undimmed 'twas poured from life's great

fountain head !

THE VISIONARY. 5

VIII.

Mine is the passion, and at times the power,

And in a world of dreams I ofttimes stray ;
My path is strewed with many an amaranth flower,

For me ambrosial fruits load branch and spray ;

I go rejoicing on my haunted way,
And still to Nature lend an earnest ear,

For all is pure, all true, that she doth say;
She draws all love, she banishes all fear,
'Tis well to cling to her, nearer and yet more near.

IX.

Hark— Holy ! Holy ! Holy ! saith the Morn,
With all her tones of music and of might,

And dare the sluggard sleep, the scoffer scorn,
While she so sweetly, brightly doth invite ? —
Dare they that high and happy summons slight,

To vigilant ears so palpable and plain ?

They lose they know not what of rare delight,

For Morn, emparadising Morn — doth reign ;
And splendours, witcheries, joys, shine in her shining
train.

Q THE VISIONARY.

X.

Hark— Holy ! Holy ! Holy ! saith the Morn,
And Holy ! Holy ! Holy ! doth reply

The awful Night, whom countless worlds adorn
That take up that dread chorus through the sky,
While all is power and love and harmony ;

And blest with noblest bliss — how truly blessed !
Are those who with Devotion's rapturous sigh,

Join in the solemn strain with tranquil breast ;
Proud to confess the zeal — saints, angels have
confessed !

XL

List !— Holy ! Holy ! Holy ! saith the Morn,
Hark ! 'tis the lark's song ! free and far he skims

Her paths of flame — on rapid pinions borne,

Till distance dwindles that slight form, and dims —
His song divine is like the Seraphims' —

A strain that 's not of knowledge, but of love !

And O ! his joyous and exuberant hymns
The bosom meltingly and sweetly move
To join him in his rites, his tuneful rites above !

THE VISIONARY. 7

XII.

Those glad hymns many a heart shall more dispose

To pious thoughts than thousand homilies ;
Who, all against them can his bosom close,

What time resound their exquisite harmonies ?

Unconsciously we lift adoring eyes —
Unconsciously with kindred fires we glow —

We breathe our souls in prayer unto the skies,
Almost forgetful of the world below,
At least forgetful all, of its vile cares and woe !

XIII.

How oft when Night's great reign was spread o'er all
In Youth's glad dawn of life, entranced I stood ;

Nor could its gloom, its loneliness appal,
But bright emotions in a glowing flood
Shook my soul's depths — O! 'twas a rapturous
mood —

I gazed on those blest worlds so proud, so fair,
And banquetted on that ambrosial food,

Which young Imagination doth prepare
For her fond votaries true, who her sweet fetters wear.

8 THE VISIONARY.

XIV.

I sphered and I unsphered my thoughts in joy,
Nor from th' enchanted cup one drop did spill —

My proud enjoyment then had no alloy —

I sphered and I unsphered my thoughts at will,
Now to some dazzling world as to fulfil

Most glorious destinies — I, dreaming, passed ;
Now in some soft, mild planet, calm and still

Awhile remained — then journeying far and fast,
Back to my native earth, returned in peace at last !

XV.

I sphered and I unsphered my thoughts in joy —

Now Fancy bore me in her volant car —
(Ah ! pleasure, too unlike earth's bliss to cloy),

To some particular and selected star ;

The loveliest among those which loveliest are,
A sun 'midst suns, where triumphed beings bright

As their most dazzling home ; where nought could mar,
Nor mock my bliss — where nought could blunt, nor

blight
My ecstasies divine that gathered still fresh might !

THE VISIONARY. J)

XVI.

Methought to my charmed eyes were then laid bare,

All, all the secret principles of things —
And I beheld, unshrinking, then and there —

The finest workings of their farthest springs;

The veil which nature o'er her mystery flings
Withdrawn, appeared to leave unchecked my glance,

Assuaging, for awhile, the goading stings
Of sleepless Curiosity — in trance
Sublime — while she forbore, to cry " On ! On! advance!"

XVII.

I sphered and I unsphered my thoughts at will —

None that ne'er felt, ere dreamt of such delight !
The soul mounts Nature like a throne ; and still

Feels proud increase of joy and strength and might;

Still communing with the heavens, the winds, the

night,
The world of worlds that lies spread proudly round,

While thus she bursts away on her far flight;

While thus she soars where is no bar nor bound,

And leaves fear, trouble, care, on their own earthly

ground !

10 THE VISIONARY.

XVIII.
But 'twas Imagination's doing all !

Yet, though not truth, it looked as bright and clear !
And though in fact still frowned the encircling wall,

Spread thick the impervious veil — thatdream wasdear!

'Twas a foretaste of that which must be near,
When earth's poor span and bounded field 's resigned,

When Truth, for the first time, shall full appear —
No more with error witheringly entwined,
For that on earth 'twas so; then shall the sagest find !

XIX.

Imagination ! thou 'rt for ever known

Youth's fairest of possessions, and belongs

To thee the wand ! to thee belong the throne,
The victory and the feast ! thy paean songs
(Which if she scorns proud Reason harshly wrongs)

Are Wisdom's words to music charmed by Love,
Thou'rt framed of wings, and eyes, and tuneful
tongues, —

Whose sweet soliloquies thy zeal improve
The while those eyes pierce all, through which those
swift wings rove !

THE VISIONARY. ] |

XX.

Oh ! when the quiet seal of middle age

Is stamped upon my brow — and manhood's prime

Is overpast, should I not seek to assuage
My Soul with contemplations less sublime
But far more solid, and root out in time

These wild hallucinations of the brain,
And dwell in spirit in a soberer clime,

And exile Fancy and her motley train,
And other quests pursue; haply not all in vain !

XXI.

Yet if these dear illusions were expelled
For sordid interests, and for worldly cares,

These pleasures crushed, those glad excitements quelled,
With all their quickening beams, their freshening airs
But for the fruit the World's rank vineyard bears,

But for its boasted vanities abhorred,
Indignantly my swelling Soul prepares

To scorn the exchange, — oh ! let them be restored,
Those free proud rapturous dreams, loved — cherished —
and deplored !

12 THE VISIONARY.

XXII.

Are there in this strange world no vainer dreams,
No wild illusions, guiltier far than mine ?

Mark where the Statesman weaves his web, and deems
The public weal doth with his projects twine,
Yet oftener to his own good doth incline ;

The Conqueror too, who ruins with one stroke
A land's glad hope, and bids a nation pine,

Doth he not through a strange false medium look,
And deem he nobly doth, Earth's paths with dead to
choke ?

XXIII.

And the Freethinker, who is but bent to undo
Whate'er hath claimed Mankind's respect before,

And thinks his theory only can be true,

Though rank it be, and rotten at the core —

For the world's gain, he dreams 't is, he doth pore

Over his midnight lamp ; — if he succeeds,
Many may haply his vain skill deplore,

Propped on Philosophy's frail feeble reeds,
And weakened in their faith in best and noblest creeds.

THE VISIONARY. 13

XXIV.

My fancies can to others do no harm,

Whate'er they to myself perchance may do ;
And there 's in them a soft redeeming charm,

That wins me to them — ever fair and new ;

Bright cheats and smiling mischiefs, though 't is true
They may be— yet in sooth, their very stings

Are painless in compare with thorns that strew
Life's worldlier path ; — thorns red Ambition brings
Or love, or trust too firm in Earth's real solid things.

XXV.

Oh ! World ! oh ! Man ! supremely, greatly blest,
Who little know of ye — untaught — untried,

Still the most fortunate who know the least !
But if such ignorance should be denied,
Let, let the bitter knowledge then be wide —

Wide, clear and deep ! enough to teach them well
To avoid the thousand rocks that lurking hide

Their pointed perils wheresoe'er they swell —
The human tides smoothed o'er, but fatal, false, and
fell!

14 THE VISIONARY.

XXVI.

Oh ! World ! World ; as thy mightiest Master* said,
When even he found thee hard to melt or move —
When even he almost bowed his haughty head

Beneath thy yoke — thy treacheries doom'd to prove !
"World! World!" as he exclaimed— that earthborn Jove,
When his fierce lip with ire impatient curled,

When vainly 'gainst opposing Fate he strove —
And from the heights of boundless triumph hurled —
Arraigned, denounced, rebuked his God — his Slave —
his World !

XXVII.
Disdain, distrust, defiance, hatred, grief,

Spoke there ! — the schemes he wrought, the plans

he wove,

Must they thwart him ? — that King-compelling Chief !
Oh ! had he known himself thus to reprove !
World ! World 1 — how happy he whose mind's above
Thy changes and thy strife ! — who doth not take

His hints from thee — for they who have had thy Love,
Thy Honours, and thy Praises, most awake,
Are, or shall be, to all, which these must worthless make !
* Napoleon.

THE VISIONARY. ]5

XXVIII.

Yes ! happy, happiest he whose chosen path

Is far from all thy emptiness and noise —
Far from thy variable uproar and wrath.

Who prizes not thy solemn shows and toys, —

But breathes untroubled breath, reaps cloudless joys,
Whose sweet continuance not alone depends

On thy capricious whim — not him annoys
The unloving look which Fortune on him bends,
Heaven, Nature, Conscience, Truth, and Feeling are

his friends!

XXIX.
And yet but few exist, who have not known,

Sooner or later known — or more or less —
Thine influence — forced thy tyrannous power to own !

And doomed to mould their mimic happiness

After thy laws. — Oh ! impotent to bless
That wretched shade of Pleasure, which would ape

Another shade ! — 'tis but refined distress,
While, closely they must measure it and shape,
By thy fixed standards else, none shall thy sentence

'scape !

]6 THE VISIONARY.

XXX.

They may not seek to improve, nor vary — \vhat !

Shall Man dare to be happy his own way ?
Shall he affect to mark out his own lot ?

No ! in the World all rule and all obey —

A common slavery — as a common sway ! —
Resistance and remonstrance were but vain,

The strict exacted tribute all must pay
Society, — that boundless pest and bane
That Juggernaut grinds all, beneath her ponderous

wain !

XXXI.
That treacherous Janus-Juggernaut that seems

To proffer Peace, while she is revolving War, —
Whose kindliest smile with deadliest malice teems,

Whose wide waved hundred arms reach near and far ;

She urges — yield ! or bleed beneath her car,—
Your glowing feelings you must put to school —

Be of a piece with all, and on a par,
Be wise by pattern, and be blest by rule,
Or thou 'rt confessed indeed, a madman and a fool !

THE VISIONARY. 17

XXXII.

Indeed a Madman if to choose thou 'rt free,
And still wilt herd with that harsh World's mad train,

Not formed to sympathize or to agree

With her or hers, nor taught to forge nor feign
Resemblance ! — to be sober thus and sane

Is phrenzy — where all frantic are the same,
Shall not the monster Many rule and reign ? —

Shall not the wild flock fall upon the tame ? —
Shall not the myriad Mad crush the sane few's weak claim?

XXXIII.

Not any right canst thou have to complain,
If thou indeed art unconstrained and free,

Yet in the Vortex choosest to remain —

Would'st thou stand still ? — so thou may'st giddier be
— Ten thousand wild contortions thou shalt see

Which thou might'st mark not, bearing too thy share,
But watching, in cold blood, the Insanity

Of others may plunge thee in worse despair —
One dizzying dreadful doubt of Right — Worth — Truth —
beware !

THE VISIONARY.

XXXIV.

'T is not alone that

XXXV.

All must endure the yoke — the rod must kiss,
Taste, Custom, Circumstance, Opinion — these

Rule all — if one would build some tower of bliss,
Which he would not have bowed to every breeze
Of their vile variance — dares he hope for ease?

Shall not the World, defied, denied, destroy?
And while with Worldly judgments not agrees

His daring Soul, shall these not blunt his joy?
Shall he not reck and rue, Man's hate can bring annoy ?

THE VISIONARY. ]9

XXXVI.

Oh ! very different would this World be found,
If men were bent each other still to assist,

In lieu of hindering ever — that on ground

Of vantage they themselves may high i' the list
Shine blazoned ; as though each did but exist

For Self and Self-advancement — 't is even so
They gracious Nature's pure intentions twist,

But mixed together to work mutual woe;
Is this as it should be ? — must it be thus below ?

XXXVII.
Hail ! beatific Nature ! thou indeed,

Art ever Comforter, and ever Friend !
Thou turn'st not from us in our bitter need,

When our Souls droop — our burthened shoulders

bend-
But gentlest Consolations know'st to send
Into our inmost hearts — yet oft we turn

From thee, dull ingrates ! all our souls to lend
To the false hollow World, and still to yearn
For its inconstant joys, that leave us oft to mourn !
c2

20 THE VISIONARY.

XXXVIII.

Even now from Contemplations vain and keen —
Fatiguing to the thoughts, to apostrophize

Thee, thee I turn — thee now in varied scene,
Appealing to my sense ! Earth, Air, and Skies
Now to my gladdened and enlightened eyes

A charm, a power, a living Glory wear,

That Morning lends, with her fresh blooming dyes ;

Oh ! Nature, thou canst banish gloom and care,
Thou only, ever, found — beneficent and fair !

XXXIX.

Go forth ! for Morning comes ! — in all her pride,
And all her grace, Go forth, for welcomed thou

Shalt be by Nature, Man's half Deified,

Who knows how to enjoy with fair-smoothed brow
And calmed heart such hours, she seems to avow

Her Lord ! his Pageantry — his Festival

She makes her own, and while we onward plough

Our way, 't is well to listen to her call,
And drink that milk of love she gives instead of
gall!

THE VISIONARY. 21

XL.
Ever I joyed to hold communion calm

With her — Yea ! ever 't was my Soul's delight,
For still that Soul had need of her deep balm,

And I, her own, still kept her in my sight —

I loved to watch the old solemn royal Night
That wraps her Purple round the Stars august,

As though she called them Children, and i' the might
Of love maternal far from these would thrust
All Evil — and still win, those treasures to her trust !

XLI.

I loved the Sea, whose every wave becomes
A mirror of the Firmament and Spheres ;

Do ye, oh ! Stars ! write there the impending dooms
Of men and nations — for that the unborn years
Glanced from your rays, the superstitious fears

And phantasies of dreaming Sages old

Taught them to think — and yet despite the sneers

Of Reason more matured, can we behold
Your Godlike aspects bright, nor own an awe untold.

22 THE VISIONARY.

XLII.

Say, were not that dread Main a fitting page

For such divine transcription, such proud theme ?

Unsullied and unchanged from age to age !
Doth it not almost seem itself to teem
With strange oracular hints, doth it not seem

With all its watery tongues to murmur deep
Warnings and prophesies ? — but ah ! ye dream

No more, ye Sages, wrapt in leaden sleep
And minds of sapience now, a different creed they keep !

XLIII.

Yet sometimes when our soaring spirits yearn
For nobler things — for loftier Destinies,

To ye— ye* Commonwealth of Suns ! we turn,
,/\

That look unto our vision-haunted eyes

Almost a Commonwealth of Deities !
Then the wish ushers in the fond belief,

We dare to think in those World-peopled Skies
Our fates, claims, triumphs, trials, joy or grief
Are cared for, nay that these are Heaven's first care

and chief !

THE VISIONARY. 23

XLIV.

The very thought that what on Earth is done
Can those high Worlds affect, must make us feel

Our glorious Immortality begun,

What ! do those shape our destinies and seal,
What ! are they conscious of our Woe and Weal,

Those Heavens in Heaven ! those Giant hosts in space,
Do those controul our Sympathies, and deal

Our Fortunes and speak of us in their place,
And shall we, can we, flag on Life's momentous race ?

XLV.

Perhaps 't was fancy, folly, wild and vain,

A daring and presumptuous phantasy,
A vapoury coinage of the Enthusiast's brain,

A bold Encroachment on the o'er-arching Sky —

But 't was a kingly weakness— and to sigh,
Smit by such pure ambition, might not bring

Heaven's vengeance on the Soul, free, proud, and

high;

No ! we might imp our Spirit's undipped wing
For such flights unreproved — and ever soar and spring !

24 THE VISIONARY.

XLV1.
'T was Fancy, Folly, Phrenzy — what you will —

But oft such glimmerings of a baseless thought
Play o'er the Soul — warm, quick and powerful still ;

And if for Truth we 've duly searched and sought —

Have we not still invariably been taught
Through all great Nature's thronged Immensity —

Through all things by the Almighty Maker wrought,
Sympathy — Unity — Analogy —
Association clear — Connexion close to see ?

XLVII.

Nothing, in Nature — Nothing — is alone,
One fine electric chain doth quickening run

Through all things — lengthening from the Eternal's

throne,

All forms one mighty Whole — distinct are none —
Kindred are Worm and World— the Mote and Sun,

The least link lost might make Heaven's dread Worlds start
Forth from their Orbits — ruined and undone ;

And man dreams all ev'n of himself a part,
Feeling the hidden God — that breathes about his heart !

THE VISIONARY. ^5

XLVIII.

Say, is 't impossible that even with ours,

Those Worlds may feel — and be perchance endued

Unconsciously, with strange prophetic Powers ;

And when Dismay doth o'er Earth's Nations brood,
When Revolutions spread, and broil and feud,

And Tribulations shake her Empires wide ;
'T is haply too that changes dire intrude

'Mongst those bright Sister Realms of might and pride,
For closer than we think — all yet may be allied !

XLIX.

Like mighty members of one glorious Frame,

Fraughtwith one Feeling — filled with one great Soul,
Each — as it wejre, another and the same,

The harmonious part of an harmonious whole!

Yea ! though they seem distinct, detached, to roll
In lofty Independence— proudly lone,

That Hand which could each vast circumference bowl
Into the Deep of Space, may chain each one
In sympathetic bonds, that shall not be undone !

26 THE VISIONARY.

L.

Nature ! great Soother of my Spirit's cares,

When aught perplexes me, to thee I turn,
Well for thy heart it is thy peace that shares,

Well for the eye that can thy worth discern ;

'T is from the lilies of the field we learn
Not to disquiet us — and from those Stars,

To dwell with all in Harmony — nor spurn
Our fellows in Life's march — no blood-stain'd Wars
Are brewed up there — nor worse — poor vile, vain, civil

jars !

LI.
Our inner-being shapes itself serene,

And half-unconsciously to thee ; we grow
More than spectators of thy beauteous Scene —

(The happiest hours are such we pass below !)

Parcels and portions of Thee— and we glow
With feelings most intense — yet most unblamed,

While our Life's blood doth deeply sweetly flow
In our calmed veins— we seemed renewed, and framed
Of Elements more pure, in mould and heart reclaimed !

THE VISIONARY. 27

LIL

And this, most mighty Mother ! is thy work,

And yet mid crowds how oft we choose to stay,
Where no bright lesson doth serenely lurk,

At every instant to illume our way —

But our checked Souls sink weltering in their clay ;
Where if in something different from the rest,

Trembling, lest we such difference should betray,
We dungeon down our quick thoughts in our breast,
To fit ourselves to be their comrade and their guest !

LIII.

Thus bowed beneath a double Tyranny,

Theirs and our own — for still those thoughts rebel,
And, like the Spartan boy — while none can see,

We are torn by that, which we have concealed too
well,

Yet deign nor dare our heavy case to tell,
But wear the mask of carelessness and mirth,

Martyrs of . secret tortures, fierce and fell,
Victims of Vanity, fast chained to Earth,
Though long since it hath lost, for us its charms and worth !

28 THE VISIONARY.

LIV. *

Oli ! what a joy upon yon Sea sublime,

With lingerings of uncloyed delight to look,

Great Image of Eternity and Time !

Whose waves type years, but whose huge vastness took
Heaven's face in from the first ! dread Sea ! dost brook

From yon proud ship upon her gallant march
Commandment, or defiance, or rebuke ?

The Firmaments bend o'er her in bright arch ! —
Let Fancy's dreaming eye, raised there, for auguries search.

LV.

'T is sunny, cloudless all ! No ! — one light speck

Frowns in the Horizon, doth it hold the Storm ?
And shall that Storm pour down on thy thronged deck,

Thee to defeat, destroy, or to deform ?

Alas ! when with high hopes elate and warm
We start on Life's strange march, such shining roof

May seem above us bent, where sunbeams swarm
While darkness and dismay keep far aloof —
Yet one slight cloud may lower, to give our pride reproof !

* Written by the Sea-side.

THE VISIONARY. <29

LVI.

'T is thus Events most trivial, weak, and slight,

Come laden with our fates untoward and dark,
We ne'er avoided them, though full in sight,

For nought of threatening might we there remark ;

Dread Conflagrations spread from smouldering

spark —
Springs from beginnings small, most dire mischance —

The Storm that 's destined to o'erwhelm our bark,
May sleep above us in a cloudy trance
Till it at length burst forth, in dread predominance.

LVII.

Light Accidents o'ercome us by surprise

And mock us, who had striven with thoughtful care

To shape the Future to our phantasies ;

We had wrought for years — our projects meltinair —
And moments, moments oft our dooms prepare —

Thyself, seek, if thou canst, then to defend
From instantaneous casualties ! Still bear

These things in mind — nor all too fondly tend
On far wide-reaching hopes, that oft find sudden end !

30 THE VISIONARY.

LVIII.
Oh ! if we are wronged by Fortune, 't is at least

A consolation, or should be, to view
What things become her Favourites — of her feast
Partaking as it were their merits due —
Who have carved their way opposing barriers

through —

Who bask them in her smiles unchangingly —
Yea, well to observe her choice elected few
And those who with thyself contemned may be,
If that consoles thee not, then, then, I pity thee !

LIX.

How oft, hath she adopted for her own —

Her own spoiled children — the low-souled and mean,

And all her gilded gaudes about them thrown, —
Invested them with all her glittering sheen —
Who hath lived long in this wild World nor seen

Her vile injustice ? — who if good and wise
Hath learned not, firm and steadfastly serene,

Herself and her vain favourites to despise,
Pitying the Winners oft — nor coveting the prize !

THE VISIONARY. 31

LX.

Matter it is to make a Stoic laugh

To watch those wretched puppets strut and prate,
Those things of dust and dr^ss — and clay and chaff

Propped up by freakish Fortune and blind Fate !

Lo ! Emptiness and Nothingness in State !
These foist their dull opinions on the deep

But misled mind of Man— that mind shall date —
Evil — from the hour they caught it in its sleep —
Aye matter 't is in sooth — to make Fiends laugh or weep !

LXI.

Look on them in their insignificance !

Authority into their hands consigned —
But a bald meanness in their sidelong glance

Fatuity and falsehood in their mind !

There are, who will indulgently be blind
To their dull foibles, and there are who deign

Shape their own judgments by the shapeless kind
Of theirs, and then aloud they dare complain
And cry that Man is wronged — and his high Hopes are

vain !

32 THE VISIONARY.

LXII.

Oh ! Fortune ! thou hast ne'er flattered me nor raised,
And I have ne'er followed thee— for thine own sake —

My hope was to be loved and to be praised

In earlier days, ere grief my soul could shake —
Such hopes I find were bubbles— let them break !

My fault and folly 't is — or 't was, Oh ! most
Should I have felt this had thy fearful Snake

Remorse, been gendered 'mid their growth — then crossed,
We have no resource within, and so are doubly lost !

LXIII.

But not thus was my object, or my aim

Parent of Guilt— but innocent as strong
Let worldly Censors harshly scorn and blame

Even as they will — could such sweet hopes be wrong?

They are lost, but to my lonely thoughts belong
An independence and a freshness still

That never can remain when once among,
Those thoughts, that deadly Snake doth wind at will,
Poisoning them ev'n as may, vile weeds some close-

choaked rill !

THE VISIONARY. 33

LXIV.

Ev'n if our friends desert us, let us think

The Shame and the remorse shall be their own ! —

Who could from their own fond professions shrink ! —
Themselves, of us, they have thus unworthy shown,
Since if inconstant and estranged they have grown,

Not from our fault — then we may well be sure
That while we loved them, for themselves alone

'Twas interest took in them the semblance pure
And guise of Friendship — so, our grief should find its cure !

LXV.

And if indeed we miss them from our side

When from our eyes, Misfortune harshly draws

Griefs blistering tear, they on whom we relied

For aid — for comfort — this should make us pause —
Should teach us to scorn those who spurn thy laws

Blest Friendship ! Yea ! if they have fallen away
From their proclaimed adhesion, without cause

Then let us raise our drooping heads and say
" The Sorrow and the Shame be theirs who could
betray !"

34 THE VISIONARY.

LXVI.

There are so soft of Nature, and so deep

In Feeling, that they will not, cannot, bring

Themselves to view things thus, they groan and weep
But struggle not, nor ever strive to wring
The Affliction from their Soul, Alas ! they fling

Their strength away in poisoning more the dart

That's poisoning them, — and their deep Being's
spring

All tears — those Arethusas of the Heart
In faint Dejection melt, unsolaced and apart !

LXVII.

Could they arise and see their fond mistake

How would they gladly arm themselves with Scorn —

But thenfew eyes would weep — few hearts would break,

- And few would winder cheerless and forlorn
For what hath Life to give — what fruits adorn

Its tree, worth half the toils we stoop to accord ? —
Dreams lighter than the exhaling mists of Morn

Are prospects vain of bliss — let Peace be stored
Deep in your heart of hearts — on Earth Miss is a word !

THE VISIONARY. 35

LXVIII.

Why do we writhe in a perplexed unrest

And lay not balm, but gall unto our soul,
And feed ten thousand adders in our breast

Lest all too smooth Life's torrent-stream should roll ?

Why do we strive to embitter its wide whole,
And discontented with our sorrow's store

Seek to increase it ever till the Knoll
Sounds in our ears — and we must seek that Shore
Where joy or grief must be, our own for evermore !

LXIX.

Do we not madden in a Calenture

Of feeling most diseased ? — as though we came
From some far Heavenly Land, bright, glorious,
pure ?

Such Beauty doth our Fancy it* its flame

Bestow on Life's rough waves ! — even thus we frame
The Paradise we yearn for — and thus throw

Ourselves midst those fierce billows — in fond aim
For that which is not ! — and so court our woe
And all too late the Truth — and the Delusion know !

36 THE VISIONARY.

LXX.

Fearful Adversity ! — whatever shape

Thou 'st skilled to take, at least thou teachest much
And none may hope from thy dread Scourge to escape ;

How many that never deigned their pangs to avouch

Have tired all Suffering out ! — yet could not crouch
And would not shrink, but braved the thronging ills

They could stand firm to bear — Praise be to such !
Such noble Courage, Duty's law fulfils,
And more than Victory waits, on such unflinching Wills !

LXXI.

All well might act thus, who would pause to think

What are the Inflictions — and inflicted why ! —
Who would reflect how soon they '11 reach the brink

Of Life's rough precipice-bounded path — and die !

How many mourn — Lo ! while they sit and sigh
The Grief they weep o'er 's dwindling to a shade ! —

Moments go hurrying past— and long years fly

While they are fools of their vain fondness made —

While they have in Mourning Robes, themselves by

choice arrayed.

THE VISIONARY. 37

LXXII.

Pitying themselves — declining all relief —

They study Sorrow's mummery and grimace-
Though they 've survived their real and proper grief
Of whose original form remains no trace —
A Phantom 't is, they grasp in their Embrace
A Shade — The Substance perished in the Past ! —

And so they close Life's great eventful race,
Tenacious but of Suffering to the last —
Extracting from its cup— each drop of bitterest taste !

LXX1II.
We make our food of poison and surprised

We are that we should suffer — let it go —
All that we 've coveted or sought or prized

Or soon or late shall cost us care and woe.

It is to be — it shall it must be so
And we must wait for our Deliverance

From our worst foes — ourselves — for still below
Men do their trials and their pains enhance
By every possible means, and make their crutch — a

lance !

38 THE VISIONARY.

LXXIV.

Why for ourselves do we unwearied toil —
To frame the strong and adamantine band —

To wreathe the closely-clasping numbing coil-
Why choose to linger, fettered foot and hand ? —
Why for ourselves have we for ever planned

Restraints— forbidding us to freely move —
Trembling we stir — or totteringly we stand

So cramped with Selfish motives — let the Dove
The Stork teach better things — and lesson us in Love !

LXXV.

Selfishness is our bane — hath it been mine ?

No ! no ! not wholly Selfishness it was —
Love's breath did make my being half-divine

In days now gone for ever — and alas !

When that dear dream did with its sweetness pass
I was more severed from my fellows all

Than Man should be, while in the World's great mass
Of Being — subject to one selfsame thrall
With all that round him crowd — intent to climb or

crawl !

THE VISIONARY. 39

LXXVI.

'T is well to be so severed — if 't is not
Too much and widely — Man 's too apt to make

His fellow man his judge, and of his Lot
The Mover and Controller — nor for the sake
Of Heaven and Heavenly Hopes, to watch and wake,

But still, preferment from Man's hand to gain
Advantage and advancement, that must slake

His thirst for fame or lucre — if the chain
In some links loosened be, it shall not be in vain !

LXXVII.

There are who can almost abstract their hearts
From the dull business of this work-day Earth,

And even 'midst all its toils, broils, snares and arts
Keep still unfettered in their glowing worth
Their best Emotions ; So 'mongst all the dearth,

The nothingness and noise, they pass along
Bless'd by the noblest gift bestowed by birth,

The faculty of feeling — deep, bright, strong —
Themselves — their thoughts — their own — even in the
o'erpowering throng !

40 THE VISIONARY.

LXXVIII.

But others — and the larger number much

Become the prey of its infection vile,
And poisoned are, by its dread venomed touch !

While numbed by its dire basilisk-eye's cold smile —

And bound and crushed by its culebra* coil,
They grow Nonentities — and still the more

They lose all claim to Honour's flattering style
The more do they require it — and deplore,
If merited Contempt, should o'er them fiercely pour !

LXX1X.

Save me from this ! — whate'er hath Nature's hand,
Made me, so let me be ! I would not turn

With every touch of Fortune's fickle wand —

But hold my Soul unchanged, though kind or stern
This hollow World should seem — nor let me yearn

For its vain pleasures — varying — yet the same
In Emptiness ! No ! from whatever Urn,

The dark or bright, my cup be filled, I claim
Proud Independence still — that stoops not to false shame !

* Boa- Constrictor.

THE VISIONARY. 41

LXXX.

Is there a sadder or more sickening sight,

Than to see one, who hath no thought beyond

This wretched world — his Worship and Delight —
Chasing its phantoms desperately fond,
Fulfilling to the last its rigourous bond !

One who hath sought but its precarious good,
Its harsh laws studied, and its vile tasks conned —

And ceaselessly hath watched it— worshipped — wooed,
To each varying vain caprice, varying his servile mood !

LXXXI.

How oft his fond zeal its own end defeats !

He would be first among his fellows found,
Yet scarce dares move, lest frowns, or that which meets

Ambition, with a withering check, to bound,

Its haughty flight, harsh Ridicule should sound
In his pained ears, and so he longs, yet dreads

To climb — his hopes — his Aspirations drowned
In abject doubt and deference — till to shreds
Fall all his fair-woven Schemes — and Darkness round

him spreads !

42 THE VISIONARY.

LXXXII.

Detested Mediocrity results,

From thence — with stagnant soul and frigid mind !
Palmy Ambition its plumed glory moults.

And fiery zeal lies cabinned and confined

With gall, ice, lead, — to embitter, numb, and bind !
The immortal Spirit drags its weary way,

Till Death, or Child-changed age severely kind,
Ends its regrets and sufferings in the clay —
Since consciousness in Eld, oft sinks as its first prey.

LXXXIII.
Not yet — not yet, Oh ! cruel World ! hast forked

Thy deadly Lightnings through my soul — not yet,
Hast in my Spirit Alteration worked —

Warped from what 't was, and 't would be ! may'st
thou set,

Star of my destiny ! without the let
Of poisonous Exhalations to obstruct,

Thy beams — though pale and few they may forget
Their early brightness — I have willingly plucked
On Earth but wholesome plants, and their pure nectar

sucked !

THE V1SIONAUY. 43

LXXXIV.

My heart 't is true at times hath gone astray,
In deadliness of aching — for I 've known,

The debt of suffering to harsh Life to pay —
And paid it unsupported and alone,
Till my Soul one dark sacrifice had grown —

But then came Mercy to staunch every wound !
And Pain's black vulture-brood at length hath flown —

And Peace, calm golden Peace my Soul hath found,
And Gratitude my mind, shall cherish without bound !

LXXXV.

Yes ! I have suffered — and let no Man judge
What others' griefs and trials may have been,

Some may be found to doubt, dodge, droil, and drudge
In this dull drudging World — but bright and keen
Some Natures cannot keep the fitting mean,

But rush upon Excess ! — Woe, woe to them,
Woe — woe to all who on Life's troubled scene

Are wanting in that blunt, cold, worldly phlegm,
Which sole enables men, Earth's various tides to stem !

44 THE VISIONARY.

LXXXVI.

LXXXVII.

We are distracted from each other now,

My once Beloved ! — and yet at times I deem,

Our Souls converse — mine own once more art thou-
But then the pitiless currents of Life's stream,
Bear us afar — Still that one little beam

Long, long lights up my course, I will not sink,
But stir up those sweet ashes of a Dream,

To warm and cheer me, and will fondly think,
There is yet between our Souls, a rivet and a link.

THE VISIONARY. 45

LXXXVIII.

That honey-drop shall bless my bitter cup
Haply far more than floods of nectar may

Theirs, who too unregardfully drink up

Their dealt draughts of Life's stream, I cannot pay
Homage to many Shrines, but I can play

Calmly my fond and faithful part, and snatch
Real pleasure from those blossoms of a day,

Love, Friendship, Hope, Delight, they which attach
To Earth, yet teach the while, that Earth Heaven's hues
to catch !

LXXXIX.

We are distracted from each other now —
Oh ! could I teach another, but to love

As I have loved — then with far smoother brow
Along my briary pathway I might rove,
Since I should know, that thou at least shouldest prove

What a divinest blessing Life may find

Love — Love immortal — and that thou should'st move

Scatheless along — a deep, deep heart and mind
'Twixt thee and every storm, and shock of Fate Unkind.

46 THE VISIONARY.

xc.

Is 't not a perilous way we have to tread

With dangers and with sorrows compassed round ?

Bright starry glories beam out overhead
But thorns and ashes every step surround —
And most inconstant is the shifting ground,

Yet there is for our hand a mighty staff

That shall support us — there have yet been found

Immortal treasures near — not dust nor chaff,
And fountains of which we, may all securely quaff.

XCI.

Alas ! we catch at straws and grasp them fast
Who have the Rock of all Defence at hand,

It hath been so for ever in the Past,

And will be so while Time doth still expand

His awful wings — we 've plotted and we Ve planned

And been our hardest Taskmasters to ourselves,
We 've built our fond frail Edifice on sand —

Wev'e steered our bark 'gainst black Destruction's

shelves —

We 've fallen in that dank pit, — our own Corruption
delves !

THE VISIONARY. 47

XCII.

Dull Vanities of Life ! how can ye hold

Even for a moment Souls for Heaven designed —

Souls cast and fashioned in immortal mould —
How can ye charm down an aspiring mind,
And file, and clip, and damp, and clog, and bind

The Thoughts, the Imaginings that should be free
As Light, or Flame, or Ocean, or the Wind ?

Dull Vanities of Life ! that ye should be
Perchance the bars accursed, to a blest Eternity.

XCIII.

Oh ! to renounce those Vanities — forswear
Those follies ! — and to calm the restless Soul

And shut those avenues to long Despair —

While moments pile themselves to years and roll
The Stars and Worlds — while the Universe's whole

Proceeds and progresses ! — this — this were well,
Then should we drain not Sorrow's tragic bowl,

Nor should the Soul with sick impatience swell,
Nor in a vain suspense, unsoothed, unsettled, dwell !

48 THE VISIONARY.

XCIV.

To struggle on without one blessed Hope

To torch us on our long and dreary way —
With very Spirit-sickness bowed to droop—

And dread the rising of another day —

Save 't is upon our ashes — this I say
Is Misery — I have known it — to have known

Perhaps is well — it weans us from the clay,
Teacheth us Earth's vain Influence to disown —
To seek far brighter realms — and mansions for our own !

xcv.

Oh ! heavy World ! — how many bowed and bent
Have courted still thy load— though still increased

While their presumption grows their punishment —
Their worst of terrors, 't is to be released —
And so they stumble on — the wiser beast

Is glad to miss his burthen — while they hug
Theirs ever more and more, till all hath ceased

And their deep grave in Mother Earth is dug
And they are nestled close with kindred Worm and
Slug !

THE VISIONARY. 49

XCVI.

Thou heavy heavy World ! where Time doth wield

His terrible scythe in triumph and in pride
And ever rests the master of the field

And priceless treasure doth in dim vaults hide —
^He treads on Capital cities — and they glide
Into a pit of darkness— he waves high

His Sceptre-scythe — and he doth glorying ride

On the bowed necks of Empires — while Years fly,

Creeds, Codes, arid Systems cease — tongues fail — and

mortals die !

XCVII.
And Thought — the Imperial Faculty of man

Is filed, and held in adamantine bands,
And though at times it foils the unrighteous clan

Of Persecutors — and with just demands

Acceded to, hath made the listening Lands
Record its triumphs and accomplish'd things

Sublime and Wond'rous— yet on adverse Strands
Oft wrecked — the hytena Prejudice springs, clings,
And fastens to it still, and tears and gripes and wrings.

50 THE VISIONARY

XCVIII.

Stars of the Night ! when in sad sleeplessness

I've watched your beams — how seemed ye to reprove

A Mortal's Sorrow — ye ! that proudly press
On your immortal race like things of Love,
Of Loveliness and Duty ! Worlds above !

Men look on ye, then turn away to pour

Their souls on some all idle aim — they move

Earth — Earth and Heaven for this — their bosom's core
Is still disquieted — for what ? — let them explore !

XCIX.

Stars of the Night ! when of the Past I think

Time, Death, Change, Distance, at your view take
flight

Ye Pilgrims of the Eternity — how sink

Our measurements of months and years in sight
Of ye ! I greet ye with intense delight !

If these were not — would not quick Minds and deep
Imagine such things in their innate might ?

And take in thought far, far, a flashing leap
O'er the outstretched Space to pierce to these — with
these to sweep !

THE VISIONARY. 51

C.

The Soul hath its own grand Necessities ! —
August Necessities and glorious Wants ! —

From Earth it breaks away and seeks the Skies

And for newhopes, new Worlds, new Triumphs pants
Proudest and princeliest of all Mendicants,

With little less than all things satisfied —

High Heaven in those sublime Desires ev'n grants

A fund of royal riches ! — and allied,
Through these to all that's great, Man doth on Earth abide.

CI.

Oft when at Midnight's deep still solemn hour
I ponder lone — they whom I have loved and lost

Come back on me — in beauty and in power,

And 'twixt regret and hope my Soul is toss'd —
They live ! I feel they live ! though a dread Host

Of Worlds may sunder us— but in the Strife
Of this World's occupations — I feel most

Their Silence on my Soul — with miseries rife
Tlteir Memory on my Hope — their Death on— in my
Life !

E2

52 THE VISIONARY.

GIL

There — then — there is nor room nor time to think,
We almost feel by rote !— such feelings lack

All sense of inborn solace — and they drink

A wine of their mixed blood and tears, black, black
And bitter, who on lonely desolate track

Move lorn mid crowds, their veins run tears, weeps blood
Their brain — their thoughts upon themselves forced
back

Grow sufferings and make suffer — until Good
Too oft their Evil proves— warped to their morbid mood.

THE VISIONARY.

CANTO II.

i.

The wavering reek of mortal breath may not
Or serve to aggrandize or to blight my name ;

Humble and most sequestered is my lot —
Yet something I demand far more than Fame,
That something may be mine, for my calm claim

Is just and strong, the prayers I have preferred
(Still I have played an unambitious game)

Shall surely be, by Heavenly Mercy heard,
Let me not by vain doubts, be shaken now nor stirred.

54 THE VISIONARY.

II.

Yet who, in this world, loves feels, hopes admires
Nor owns at times a faultering and a fear,

A sinking and a smothering of the fires,

That most could animate and brightly cheer ? —
Their path no more shows smooth or straight or clear,

A cloud of dim and ill-defined distress —

Heavy and lowering dull, and dense and drear,

Like a cold wintry fog doth all oppress,
Who hath e'er seen unveiled — the Phantasm, Happiness ?

III.

All — all the fardel and the canker — nay,
Haply the worldly sordor too, have borne

(That sordor of vile Selfishness which they

Whose Souls are noble quickly thrust with Scorn
Aside) — but so Humanity must mourn —

Mortality's its nature and its name,

And still the immortal- mortal's inly torn

With adverse feelings — till the Air's ice — and flame,
The Heavens are lead — the Earth, one huge hard chill
stony frame.

THE VISIONARY. 55

IV.

Humanity must mourn — too oft the best

Mourn most, for not in this dark Life is 't good
To bear a kindly or a generous breast —

A Noble or an Elevated mood —

The cold, the narrow-minded oft have stood,
When the excellent and kind have bit the dust,

And inwardly shed their heart's own dearest blood —
Most fatal shedding — from the deadly thrust
Of Sorrow's poisoned darts, that in the unhealed wounds

rust —

V.
The spreading deepening wounds — they will not close,

They have a deadly life, all, all, their own —
And oft they bleed afresh at sudden blows

Unconsciously inflicted — since not shown,

They are not suspected ! not avowed — not known !
Alas ! — how many may we daily meet,

Who bleed in secret thus, and inly groan,
That hide their Sorrow in its veiled retreat —
Their griefs - that prisoned thus, through brain and bosom

eat!

56 THE VISIONARY.

VI.

Perchance, the most terrific tasks are still

Performed in silence — and the World knows nouV1

Of their attempts and struggles, who with will
Inflexible and patient zeal have wrought
With hidden powers — nor hath it loudly brought

Their names to honour, — nor its favours poured
On their deserving heads — nor ever sought

To aid them,— they, who fight not with the sword,
Whose brows no wreaths adorn — whose deeds no Scrolls
record.

VII.

Yet the most stubborn and the hardest fight,

Hath it been theirs to wage, deep deep in the Core

Of their own hearts — as in the secret night,
And no applause- -no loud tumultuous roar
Of praise hath these encouraged ! but the more

They have girded up their Spirits to press on,
And do without that Glory which their War

Leaves far behind in sooth, upheld by none
They their hard strife maintained, till was all nobly won !

THE VISIONARY. 57

VIII.

Still the achievements of the just and sage,
Even of the very gentlest of the Good,
Although inscribed upon no earthly page

Are blazoned forth where Angels o'er them brood
In Admiration — all unstained by blood
As Earth's proud Conquerors are — nor clouded round

By discord and dispute, as those who have stood
Founders of Sects, Schools, Systems — these are found
Blameless, and worthy of — that Fame which knows no
bound.

IX.
The Fame in Heaven attained — which at the last

Shall honour bring to those who had rebuke
And cold neglect on Earth — who meekly cast
Ashes on their bowed heads, yet whose firm look
Was Heavenwards and not Earthwards — and who

took
Reproach from all, but chief from those who well

Had done, to have searched each cell and inmost nook
Of their own bosoms, ere they fiercely fell
On others — slanderous tales, 'gainst them to invent and tell.

58 THE VISIONARY.

X.

Alas ! the best must often mourn the most —
Not here is their reward or their repose,

'T is when the deserts of this life are cross'd,
That they may smile delivered from their woes,
Then shall their tears be dried, their wounds shall close,

But here — speak, speak, ye thousands that lie down,
Wronged Martyrs ! Saints uncanonized ! though blows

And racks and flames had purchased more renown,
Could aught of deadlier been, than the ills that here ye
have known ?

XL

But oh ! to name my nameless self 'mongst those
With rash presumptuous pride I venture not,

Though Heaven knows I have borne my share of woes
And battled with a bitter, bitter lot,
Nor hath Shame hitherto impressed her blot

On my life's page — I have struggled long and hard —
My friends forgiven and my foes forgot,

How long shall Fate my sweet reprieve retard ?
Say — shall I forfeit ere, I have reaped my rich reward !

THK VISIONARY. 59

XII.

The day I write's the first of the New Year,
Old days are gone, and new ones coming on,

To bring but the old Events in their career —
For what is new beneath the all-seeing Sun? —
We do what millions have before us done,

We see what multitudes before have seen,

We run the same race myriads too have run —

What is, What shall be, but what still hath been,
While still we trace fresh schemes, with expectations keen.

XIII.

, Yet wond'rous things shall still his thoughts engage,
And proud impressive sights shall he behold

Who gazes from a distance on Life's stage,
And sees its mighty Pageant-pomp unrolled —
Even I, though I am now in sooth not old,

Have seen such marvellous changes in my time,
Such dark miraculous destinies unfold —

Such strange events — too dread and deep for rhyme —
That Memory scarce can grasp, her shadowy stores
sublime,

60 THE VISIONARY.

XIV.

Yea ! I have Spectator and Survivor been

Of such strange things as make me stand aghast,

When she would fain rehearse what o'er the scene
Hath full of dread absorbing interest passed,
And I have viewed the threatening Heavens o'ercast

With huge dense clouds that seemed o'ercharged to

swell
With Thunders such as well might burst to blast

All Nature and Existence — yet that fell
At last in peaceful rains, or passed — and all was well !

XV.

I have watched with mine own pained and wildered eyes
Man's fickle nature, changing with the wind,

I've marked the lapse of ancient Dynasties,
The wreck of old Opinions long enshrined
In Sanctuaries of the human heart and mind —

I have hailed Discoveries glorious and sublime —
Even such as bless and benefit Mankind —

I've viewed in fleeting periods of winged time,
Prosperity and Peace, take flight from Clime to Clime !

THE VISIONARY. 61

XVI.

Awe-struck I heard — in Childhood's sensitive years
The echoing thunders of a lengthened War —

When the leagued Nations cast aside their fears
And sought to arrest the Conqueror on his Car —
He on whose forehead Fortune's blazing Star

Seemed set by fiends in fierce infernal mirth,

A gorgeous brand — like Cain's to Scathe and Scar !

Have I not seen on this unstable Earth
Of Empires the overthrow, of bourgeoning States the
birth?

XVII.

The end of Empires and the birth of States —
The unfolding of gigantic Shadowy Schemes —

Such as the wildest-working brain creates
When one Chi msera- Chaos seem its dreams,
Yet what were Fancy's strangest flights and themes

To the Actual Stern Realities which smite
With Consternation — while for ever teems

Fresh cause for wonder, till the aching sight
Can scarcely seize and trace — the varying forms aright !

62 THE VISIONARY.

XVIII.
Charters and Constitutions I have seen formed,

Some to be broken through — patched up again —
Then slowly sapped — if not defied and stormed —

Warped to the sanction for a Tyrant-reign !

The Letter not the Spirit taught to retain !
And I have watched, abhorred dissensions rise

I'the heart of Kingdoms while in vain, in vain
Freedom — Religion — form the factious cries
Till both lie crushed beneath — War's worst — Home-
anarchies.

XIX.
I have seen Realms torn from their anointed Kings,

And Kings to kingless States dependent given,—
Remodelled Laws — Improvement, such as brings

From its rash suddenness — a deep fear driven

Through thoughtful Minds, that not unrent — unriven
Shall Fabrics stand, which lack foundations fixed

Firm, firm and fasti' the ground, since with the leaven
Of Imperfection all Man's works are mixed,
Weigh well — if Right and Wrong thoud'st justly choose

betwixt.

THE VISIONARY. 63

XX.

But who shall tell me that these things are new —
Have regal Sceptres ne'er been flung before

From hand to hand, have men ne'er striven to undo
What their forefathers did ! — hath purple War
Not dyed the ensanguined Earth from shore to shore,

Or in a listed space hemmed in — confined

Even in a self-stung Country's bleeding core.

More sternly stormed, in revel fierce and blind ?
Hath rashness never marked, the councils of Mankind ?

XXI.

Have Sciences and novel Arts ere this
Not been discovered by the human brain ?

Mankind — impatient still of that which is —
Make ceaseless efforts to extend their reign,
To enlarge their sources of power, knowledge, gain,

Yea ! even these, these things have their rise, and foil,
While Barbarism o'erpowered, o'erpowers again,

Mind, Freedom, Luxury, Civilization — all
That we too fondly deem — defies Decay's stern thrall.

64 THE VISIONARY.

XXII.

Perchance more crowded, more compressed, more close,
The Occurrences may heaped and hastened be

In these wild days— the wonders and the woes,
The jubilees— the jars ;— more hurryingly
These waves in their succession — full and free,

May, while the shore beneath them shakes — be rolled!
But they 're the billows of the self-same Sea,

'T is but the restless tide that heaved of old,
And History's page presents, tales thrice three times retold.

XXIII.
Away ! no Sybil's scroll do we require —

Though strange events come thronging thick and fast,
Though hope or dread the Horizon may inspire —

No Sybil's scroll we need ! thy page, great Past

Is opened to us ! therein crowd amassed
All answers to our questionings, and 't is there

If our calm looks unprejudiced we cast
We the end shall trace, of deeds and dooms that wear
To their Conclusion on, like all things Earth may share !

THE VISIONARY. 65

XXIV.

In sooth no Sybil do we need — nor Seer,

Experience hath enriched us with her store
Piled through the increase of ages, which each year,

Each day augments, and well may we adore

The ways of Providence, since still to explore
The Annals of Nations should instruct us still

In Faith and Piety's celestial lore ;
How Good hath oft extracted been from 111 !
Ho wall things have conspired, to unfold Heaven's gracious

will !

XXV.
A mighty Hand although by us unseen

Doth all this Earth's affairs mould — regulate,
A mighty Eye is over all — I ween,

To which lie bared the latent springs of Fate.

All the Orders of Events with all their weight
Of consequences have been deeply planned

By dread Omniscience, and in Embryo state
Been good pronounced — ere stood fast that command,
Which bade them spring to birth ; — yea they 've been

weighed, judged, scanned.

66 THE VISIONARY.

XXVI.

The day of the New Year ! no storms convulse
Its quiet dawn — may none distract the march

Of the unborn after-days, with harsh repulse
Of Peace and Harmony — may the sweet arch
Of Heaven pour Sunshine o'er us, not to parch

Nor choak with tares the ground — but to ensure
Bright Plenty with redundant horn ! — we search

In vain with prying eyes, the array obscure

Of coming days,andask — " Whatyethave we to endure?"

*

XXVII.

May all be prosperous and be peaceful ! yet,

The echo of that fond prayer is a sigh,
For one winged instant can we not forget,

That 't is a vain hope for Mortality !

Alas ! the days that come shall fleet and fly
Too like their brethren — that pale shadowy host —

Not to demand a sad reverted eye
Weeping o'er all that 's perished, past, but most
O'er bright Occasions missed — o'er Heaven-lent prospects

lost!

THE VISIONARY. 07

XXVIII.

Aye ! fair Occasions still shall granted be
To build high fabric of immortal trust,

And thrice alas ! for human vanity

Oft oft be slighted, for though we 're but dust
Rashly we choose our own course, and so thrust

The proffered good away — skilful to miss

The open path and thread the obscure which must

Or lead us into Worlds more dire than this,
Or be retrod with pain — if we 'd avoid the abyss !

XXIX.

The Seasons and their wonders shall, displayed,
Recall that Word which these of old ordained,

While Man as though of Heaven's voice still afraid
Shall faintly shrink, nor revel unrestrained
In Nature's bounty — he is cramped and chained,

And most unwise of prisoners would not taste

Of freedom, but pays heaviest price, though pained

By stinging conscience still, his life to waste —
A price of cares, toils, griefs — and would — in Eden placed !
F 2

68 THE VISIONARY.

XXX.

The first of the New Year ! thoughts thronging come
Upon my Soul like clouds that spread abroad

Their magical diversities ; i' their loom,
Invisible, so fast spun that none may goad
Their Fancy to overtake them — thus her road

Doth Reason lose midst complicated dreams —
Oh ! Past ! He not upon my Soul a load,

Oh ! Future ! hide not from me Hope's dear beams,
Nor let me now mock thee, with too presumptuous schemes.

XXXI.

Life ! thou hast moments full, how full of bliss,
And yet they are but moments, felt and gone,

Melting even in our grasp, away ; — 't is this
That doth embitter all the joy we Ve known,
Perchance some wish is granted, or just won

Some long-sought prize, even in possession palls
The things so much desired — the charm's undone,

The spell is broken — to the ground it falls,
Soon lures some other hope — some new illusion calls !

THE VISIONARY. <;<)

XXXII.

Different the means employed, yet the same end
Have most, few, few have not — o'er others 't is

To acquire some influence and if not a friend
To gain, to win some flatterers ; is 't not this
That exiles many from their proper bliss,

Upon a wild and wretched aim to tend,

Which whether they accomplish or must miss,

Shall little pleasure with their feelings blend ?
Too much upon the rest, they evermore depend!

XXXIII.

Mark ! where the fond Aspirants pass along —
For are not all Aspirants more or less !

Perchance the deep desire may glow most strong,
Where we conceive it can no power possess —
Where scarce its bare Existence we could guess.

In various ways men hide this or — betray,
Various as are their dispositions — yes !

This is revealed in many a startling way,
Or studiously concealed — mark ! how their parts they
play !

70 THE VISIONARY.

XXXIV.

Some with a look of haughty unconcern,
As though despising praise, defying blame.

Some with anxiety that doth but earn,
Repulse and ridicule — in lieu of fame,
Some with an open, some a covert aim,

Some with much fear, and others with much hope,
Yet each and every one condemned the same

To sorrow or rejoice — or tower or droop
As they succeed or fail, in their fond wishes' scope.

XXXV.

For so it is ordained — well, wisely too —
(If that the feeling's fitly chastened down,

Nor suffered to acquire a force undue)
That not indifferent to the smile or frown
Of others should we be — while 'mongst them thrown,

In this loud busy populous World below,

Would we indeed their influence all disown?

Few, few have e'er accomplished this, and know
Perchance not happier these, when crushed the generous
glow.

THE VISIONARY. 71

XXXVI.

Even thus it is contrived — well, wisely too,
Since were it not so wilder pranks would Men

Play i' the face of Heaven than now they do,
Though that were hard in sooth ! — and yet again
This is the cause of ills and plagues that then

Might not be heard of — still 't is better far
We should not skulk like Cynics in our den —

Or in defiance, wage contentious war
Still 'gainst our fellows, nor for their Opinions care !

XXXVII.

Not now the buzzing clamour of the crowd
Rings in mine ears — I dwell awhile, alone —

And few the echoes, distant, few, — nor loud
That vex me, of that harsh monotonous tone —
Now for a time my thoughts shall be mine own,

But no ! a tyrant-spirit o'er them sways

Deep powerful Memory, and of pleasures flown —

(While all too well my heart her call obeys)
She still discourses much — and of the dear old days !

7'2 THE VISIONARY.

XXXVIII.
The Old Days come back on me when all 1 saw

Was Beauty, Power, Joy, Mystery and Surprise,
What now my Spirit's icy mail can thaw?

How can I see delight with these dim eyes?

Though still to admire Earth, Ocean, Air and Skies
Is mine and must be — yet 't is feeling void

Of glowing bliss, my heart within me dies
Even while my mind enjoys as that enjoyed
)f old — with it ! — I feel, my hope and heart, destroyed.

XXXIX.

And wherefore ? oh what boots it to return

To all that dire Necessity hath willed,
It is enough from her stern law to learn

To grind the Soul down till 't is steeled — or stilled.

Once in forgetfulness I well was skilled
A Stranger to my past self I had grown !

While, still through all my being's well instilled
This best art, to be blown as leaves are blown
By Autumn winds along — without a plaint or moan.

THE VISIONARY. 73

XL.

This hollow World inhospitable, cold,
Arraigns — amerces for most venial sins,

And oft the worst doth most unmoved behold,
Since Merit's touchstone is success ; if wins
Its prize foul Crime, 't is honoured, praised ! — while
spins

Hypocrisy her web — to entangle all,

While Custom shakes her fell rod — while begins

Suspicion ever 'gainst the best to call
For explanations vain — whose Z/z'yesshouldspeakandshall !

XLI.

Contagion of Corruption doth await

Whoso unguarded on the field, the Stage

Of that World moves, let him beware his fate !
Wretched shall be his youth, wretched his age,
If he seeks not to keep his mind's broad page

Clear and unsullied — Angels then may write
Thereon, nor baffled daemons in blind rage

Mix their vile characters with words of light —
Still thy Soul's whiteness guard, and keep itpureand bright !

74 THE VISIONARY.

XLII.

Yet if impatient of Corruption some

Thus stand 'gainst its advances false and vile,

How often it decides their hapless doom
And seals their Misery with a bitter smile,
Eager to blight what it can not beguile !

No ! all must worship with bent knee, bowed head,
(Although detesting it and them the while)

The golden Idols it sets up, thus led
Are thousand thousands still, through thoughtlessness or
dread !

XLIII.

Oh ! let those take divinely-tempered arms —
Who would pass free midst all the perils round,

And keep immoveably mid all alarms —

The bright resolve which pure minds still have found
If persevered in with just zeal profound

Shall bring peace, comfort, triumph, at the last,
But they must hope not to 'scape stripe and wound,

Nor think unscared, to tread Life's dreary waste,
Nor dream its harsh fruits can, be sweetened to their taste.

THE VISIONARY. 75

XLIV.

For them do pits innumerable gape

And snares are multiplied — sharp swords are hung
Over their heads, hair-held, and many a shape

Masked, wreathed, tricked, tinselled o'er, with honeyed
tongue

Strives to delude, and they are cast among
Those, who will ever seek to make them share

The shame that burns, the torture that hath wrung,
The rage, the pain, the hate, and the despair,
Since hard 't is for the fallen, with the Upright to compare.

XLV.

How Good and Evil their dread fight maintain
Deep in our deepest heart, nor e'er relax

Their efforts, but with shock and strife and pain
For mastery seek — now one doth stronger wax
And now the other, Men's strength is as flax

If helped not from above — and oft they lean
To Evil, treacherous fiend, who with keen axe

And fatal knife, all wholesome plants yet green
Still tries with envious spite, to extirpate close and clean.

76 THE VISIONARY.

XLVI.

To bear — to do — but chiefly 't is to bear
We must gird up our Souls — nor let us tire

But still proceed with caution and with care ! —
With each expiring moment doth expire
Existence — what is borne is borne — though dire

And difficult 't was once to bear — through ill

Through grief, let this console, while high and higher

Burns our bright hope as near and nearer still
We press to the great goal— even till our hearts grow
chill !

XLVII.

To be must be on Earth for aye to bear,

To know — to disapprove — if not despise,
To do for ever must be found to dare,

To feel, — to suffer in a soft disguise ! .

But let us, strong in hope, in faith arise
And do what may our future bliss ensure,

We yet may feel — and faint not — in the Skies !

Our Knowledge there may be deep, glad and pure,

To be may there be all, to enjoy — where joys endure ! —

THE VISIONARY. 77

XLVIII.

Keen bitter thoughts distract my Soul from rest,
Oh ! Soul too troubled and too vexed thou art,

Too anxiously this heart throbs in my breast,

Be still — be hushed — thou fond and foolish heart,
Throw not thyself upon the threatened dart

It may glance off from thee — solicitous fear

Doth forestall grief — bear thou thy destined part

When 't is disclosed ! — Deliverance may be near
When least expected ev'n — it may start from thy bier.

XLIX.

Oh ! Life ! unsolved problem that thou art,

The more thou 'rt studied still the more thou 'rt made

Deeply, insuperably obscure, we dart

Our thoughts in thy abyss of gloom and shade
Through all the clouds and coverings o'er it laid

By restless Curiosity — still spurred

And goaded sharply,— and are we repaid?

Alas ! more turbid still the more they 're stirred
Thy Waters grow — we are thus mocked, cheated, foiled,
deterred !

78 THE VISIONARY.

L.

Life is a Study to which all may bend
Their Energies most fruitfully, and find

It is a theme, a subject without end !
He shall do service true to Humankind
Who can unloose its Gordian knots close-twined,

Its complications into Order bring —

Its labyrinthine paths explore, that wind

With many a tortuous turn, and ring round ring,
By subterraneous vault, masked rock, and hidden spring!

LI.

For little 't is we

THE VISIONARY. 79

LII.

Oh ! that I now could teach this heart of mine
That best, first of Life's blessings, dear Content !

Then should a brightness o'er my pathway shine
Nor I in young decrepitude be bent —
'T is worse than madness when in vile clay pent

We would be all we dream — or dare affect.
Upon this Earth not every one was sent

To build an Empire, or to found a Sect,
Yet few, few, can their own deficiencies detect.

LIII.

Roses nor Laurels can thy Palms surpass

Oh honey-sweet Content — a thousand charms

Are thine that wither not like sun-scorched grass —
Lo ! the Stern Conqueror proud of feats in arms
Nought but War's furnace-blast his bosom warms,

His destinies are writ on iron leaves,

He towers i' the van of his vile locust-swarms

Till the Earth astounded round his footsteps heaves —
And while she lauds his name, she turns aside and
grieves.

80 THE VISIONARY.

LIV.

The vain Voluptuary — whose Selfish heart
Beats but for Pleasure — who at ease reclines

Untouched by Feeling's glow or Sorrow's smart —
Ere long each flower that in his Garland twines
Falls, faded, scentless, inly he repines

Too soon the vision Happiness hath fled —
Still on each studied luxury he refines —

Still Pleasure seeks but finds Regret instead
Roughening the rose-leaves' folds beneath the Sybarite
spread !

LV.

Pride saith, " For me, for me this World behold,
Shine ! shine ! ye Skies to light me and to cheer,

Roll on, ye Seas— be all your billows rolled
To pleasure me and serve, for rich ships steer
O'er ye their course — with dazzling treasures rare

Freighted for me ! blaze, Stars of Heaven ! above,
Great Sun ! for me adjust the varying year,

Ye Elements ! my slaves and minions prove,
And all things for my State, in proud Procession move."

THE VISIONARY. Ql

LVI.

Not so saith meek and equable Content,

Yet all in truth doth unto her belong ;
Nature and her transcendancies are lent

To her for ever — on her lips the song

Of praise and not self-boasting, sweet and strong,
Ascribes to Heaven the glory — round her move

Bright blessed Spirits of peace — a guardian throng—
— With heavenliest ministrations still ! meek Dove !
All, all things are thine own — though not through Pride

but Love.

LVII.
More rich thou movest o'er this Earth's varied face —

More rich than revenue-commanding Kings ;
Thine is no wayward wish — no causeless chase,

Nor thine Ambition's scourge — nor Envy's stings :

Yea — half unconsciously dost thou all things
Possess, that sharest in other's weal, — behold

How sweet a pleasure in thy calm breast springs,
Blessed through their bliss, made wealthier with their

gold,
Richer than Kings art thou — an hundred, thousand fold.

82 THE VISIONARY.

LVIII.

Well said the Roman of a by-gone day,

Well said the Roman of a time long past,
While gazing' at the Triumph's long array,

(Alas ! three hundred such all failed at last) ;

" Continuance " 't was it lacked, the laurels cast
Before the Conqueror might be shadowed o'er

By sad reflections, of how soon and fast
The pomp and pride should pass— and be no more —
Decay, Oblivion, Death, Change, Change these last —

these four !

LIX.
These blend with all beneath the Eternal skies,

These mix with all things like the Elements —
Religions — Dynasties — Philosophies

Are sapped by these — and Man and his intents

O'erthrown ; alas ! the erazures and the rents,
The dread confusions and divisions drear —

The o'ershadowings and the undoings, while the

events

Of Earth come thickening round us, gendering fear,
Or joy, as even to us, blind Mortals they appear !

THE VISIONARY. §3

LX.

These four stem Powers in their dim cloudy tents,
As at the World's four corners seem to sit —

They that convince without learned Arguments,
Or florid sophistries of human wit,
To hear their fearful Edict 's, to submit ;

With cozenage strange, they cheat themselves indeed
(While round them all things fade, or fall, or flit),

Who can with day-dream hopes their fancies feed
That aught on Earth can last — their pillar is a reed !

LXI.

How in this dark Arena of the World
Do men for evermore engage and strive,

And seek while Destiny's page is fast unfurled
The foremost in each daring aim to drive,
So in a Maelstroom, and a Storm they live,

Not to be better, but conspicuous more

Their quest and object — let them fail or thrive —

Can aught repay the burthen that they bore,
While struggling hand to hand in feuds they must
deplore ?

84 THE VISIONARY.

LXII.

What, what by Notoriety do men gain,

If Scorn the finger points at them and shame ?
If they have built their pride on others' pain,

Or compassed on Crime's Catalogue a name ?

Vain shall their triumphs be, as vile their aim —
Their infamous honours they shall wish away.

How would they compromise with lessened Fame
The stings of tyrannous Conscience to allay,
Hate's sharp hissed curse to avert — and blame's loud

ban to stay.

LXIII.
Nay ! even men's hollow praises shall a bane

And mockery grow, if praises may be theirs —
And though like hollow pleasure they may feign,

They shall be inly torn with sleepless cares ;

The vulture whose fierce beak their bosom tears,
Ever more fierce and strong and pitiless grows,

Nor respites his tormented prey, nor spares,
No peace they find — the unhallowed Fame they

chose,
Turned evil still shall rack — in verge of their repose.

THE VISIONARY. g5

LXIV.

Could'st thou but hunt such to their Solitude,
And view them, without effort or disguise —

Then should thy breast with more Content imbued
Thank the indulgent mercies of the Skies
That kept thee from such triumphs, and such prize

Then should'st thou, finding the emptiness and dearth
Of this World's dull and criminal Vanities,

Seek to partake its melody and mirth
Without the staining soil, the weight, — the cramp of
Earth.

LXV.

He who but for himself would work and stir
Denies himself the richest blessing quite —

And doth a miserable chain prefer

To fairest liberty and range of might —

To peace, and hope, and feeling and Delight.

Oh ! let us choose the part more lofty far,
For others still to feel, in noble spite

Of slippery Fortune, who shall veil her star
In vain for us — since we, can her worst efforts mar.

36 THE VISIONARY.

LXVI.

Since, independent of ourselves almost

Shall we become, in many another's fate
Our lot 's then deeply cast — nor wholly lost

Can so our chance of bliss be, — what a freight

Of hopes we bear — we can retaliate
Upon our tyrant Fortune, — sweet and new

Ten thousand precious interests can create
For every lovely dream she wills to undo —
Nor vain light fancies these — but feelings brightly true.

LXVII.

Thus we ourselves can on ourselves bestow
Such boons as Fortune never could contrive,

And salutary make our very woe —

As bees are skilled to treasure in the hive

The juice of poison-flowers, which they deprive

Of all its venom— to pure liquid gold —

Turned by those cunning alchemists ! while we live

Shall we thus glean deep dear delights untold,
And when we die, shall find these slide not from our
hold.

THE VISIONARY.

87

LXVIII.

Could but the ambitious Man, the Mai-content,
Survey the boundless blessings in his power,

And the true greatness, lofty and unbent,
Which might be his in some rewarding hour,
(Though now perchance the horizon seem to lower)

If noble means for noble ends, to adopt

He seek ! — the heavenly harvest and blest dower —

The Victory-wreaths from trees immortal lopped —
And the everlasting blooms, by streams Celestial cropped,

LXIX.
Oh ! could he but behold these, and survey

The glorious fields of promise that lie spread
Before him, if he choose the appointed way,
And in the paths of Peace and Duty tread —
Not through the World's choaked ways complacent

led,
Where tyrannous Custom holds her iron reign,

Still stretching all on her Procrustes bed,
Till of themselves faint semblance they retain,
So doth she those transform, whom she doth stint or strain !

88 THE VISIONARY.

LXX.

Could he do this — oh ! how would he despise

His poor ambition, and his puny aim.
Lo ! new-discovered "Worlds appear the Skies !

Life's little lottery and contentious game,

Its frail precarious breath and fluttering flame —
Of these he thinks — but not as erst he thought

(With altered feelings and repentant shame)
When once the heavenly Inspiration's caught,
And reformation blest within his spirit hath wrought.

LXXI.

Pranked out in vain pretensions, what we are,
Nor to ourselves nor others is well known —

They are too much sundered from us, — they are too

far,

And we ourselves too rfear ! to One alone,
Is the inner man completely wholly, shewn ;

And midst the many that we may much deceive,
Perchance none are by such false treacherous tone

Duped, as ourselves are ; and we 're doomed to grieve
O'er such deceit when Fate, her deadly web doth weave.

THE VISIONARY. 89

LXXII.

Some have been born into this lower Earth

So high, so glorious, scarce can labouring Fame
Compass their Greatness— o'er their mortal birth

They towered — the mighty thoughts which they
could frame

Shook, moved the World, their all-immortal name
Should be our Talisman and Triumph-Cry —

Not that like them we can Men's Spirits tame
Or lead, or fire, but that they proved how nigh
Our clouded Nature is, to Worlds beyond the sky.

LXXIII.

Though their outshining and excelling powers
Upraised them far o'er Man's frail mortal state,

Though their quick minds were gifted more than ours,
Yet that we can admire, judge, estimate —
Appreciate thus, — though hope not to imitate,

Proves us their brethren and their fellows still,
The more .we honour these, the Immortal Great,

The more our memories and our minds they fill,
The more we prove our breasts, with fires congenial thrill !

90 THE VISIONARY.

LXXIV.
Our brethren they ! and though our Souls soar not

As theirs have done — the likeness and the link
Fail not— since the Earthly taint and tinge and spot,
The weight of human clay, which oft will sink
The loftiest natures, we may justly think
Were theirs, — how many weaknesses and woes

Stamped them as men and mortals ! they could shrink
From pain and sorrow, and implore repose,
And they could find perchance, Life's happiest part — the
close !

LXXV.
The Heavenly Galileo, — he who trod

Undizzied midst Creation's Mysteries, still
Was Brother unto the heaviest carle and clod

That seemed to stagnate, without thought or will —
Perchance developed far from the dull chill
Of this low mortal clime shall be at last

The Powers, that latent lay, and masked, until
Existence' pettiest portion should be past,
Until the pilgrim Soul— its fleshly slough should cast.

THE VISIONARY. 91

LXXVI.

Then may the fettered Spirit be set free !

A thousand Miltons then may higher and higher
In Inspiration's immortality

Revel sublime, and grasp the sounding lyre

Their bright thoughts tossing on a sea of tire —
A thousand Lockes with ampler field may pore

O'er noblest studies glorious, while to acquire
Fresh Knowledge — shall be ever more and more
To marvel at Heaven's power— to tremble and to adore !

LXXVII.

Those who have towered above their fellows, not
To enchain them, nor to injure — but to bless

And to improve their changeful human lot,
And sow for them new seeds of Happiness,
They asked not Fame their labours to redress,

Nor worldly good, nor aught that those demand
\Yho for themselves alone would onwards press,

And seek not to conciliate — but command ! —
'T was the blest toil itself, repaid that princely band !

92 THE VISIONARY.

LXXVI1I.

Majesty was their Nature — and their breath

A royalty of peace — not a keen fire
That nought can quench nor cool but icy Death,

Nor was their Being one wild will to aspire !

When such as these (since mortal these !) expire,
Then are their souls seized with the deep true hope !

And then uplifted from Earth's clayey mire,
They feel that they no more shall sink or droop,
In death they lift their heads — 't is but on Earth they

stoop !

LXXIX.
When with the wish to exalt and to improve

Is blent the power, in happiest union rare,
When Genius twines with philanthropic Love,

When Man's first interests claim the Aspirant's care,

How fair the field, how true the triumph there,
Heaven blesses from the first the pure design,

Heaven doth in love, their love-taught labours share,
Such Spirits as those have passed the boundary line
'Twixt the Earth and Sky — while still, they sought to

illume — not shine.

THE VISIONARY. 93

LXXX.

Such, such have been the Spirits too that have burnt

Their thoughts into the Eternal Universe,
And in their Glory and Success but learnt

Oh ! not their Strength, their Greatness — the reverse !

And humbly that deep lesson did rehearse,
Yet amidst all they taught, still that was found

Most hard, most vain, to teach ! and for their curse
Thousands, their steps have followed, yet around
Forborne to look and own, themselves still, cramped —

held — bound !

LXXXI.
They in their bright humility, confessed

Their Nothingness before the Lord of all —
Yet still on their steep path unfaultering pressed,

And found the triumph while they felt the thrall.

He — at whose dread — at whose Commanding Call
Worlds leapt to life, hath set strict bounds below —

But glorious was their failure, proud their fall,
(For their Success, their Victory must seem so
To Him!) — if these His Might, his Greatness served to

show.

94 THE VISIONARY.

LXXXII.
Yea — if, even in the coil and soil of dust,

They to the Eternal's service might be vowed,
Their bonds were bright — their Nothingness august —

Their fleeting evanescence blest — and proud

That Nothingness, Omnipotence could shroud
Even with Itself! — with Grace, Strength, Glory, Power,

Until they passed off like a melting cloud
Into that Vastness, which their thoughts would scour
In vain, in Life's strait Yoke — its brief and feverish hour.

LXXXIII.

They— though they felt their present Nothingness —
Rejoiced in boundless hopes that soared sublime,

Hopes that might well console and richly bless —
And save them from the rough assaults of Time,
And from the rigours of this mortal clime,

The proffered pardon and the promised joy

Upheld them through this World of gloom and
crime —

They knew its sweetest witcheries could destroy,
And strenuously eschewed each glittering gaude and toy.

THE VISIONARY. 95

LXXXIV.

They whetted their great Energies on the Hope
Of Universal Usefulness — their steep Aims

They wreaked on Execution ! could they droop
Whose hallowed purpose was to give their names
Unto that noblest of all Earthly Fames,

That which speaks with a common daily Voice —
Leagued with no fierce, foul deeds, no blushing shames,

That bids the enlightened Nations to rejoice —
Oh ! who, but would that could, make such Fame their
own choice?

LXXXV.

Nothing am I in Life's tempestuous whirl
Save a most mute Spectator — nothing am

Midst all its stir, and desperate strife, while curl
Its billows round me — they which know no dam,
Nor sprinkleth me their spray, nor crush nor jam

My form, those rocks that ever frown around,
While angry Water-Spouts refalling ram

Down to the Abyss those strugglers that are bound
In Selfishness supreme, till their deep grave is found !

96 THE VISIONARY.

LXXXVI.

So to be nothing is 't not to be all ?

Unfettered by vain selfish thoughts or aims,
And living through all things as though the call

Of Death's dread voice had sounded, that which tames

The loftiest to the lowliest, when our frames
Are elements consigned to elements —

And when our spirits rush like wind toss'd flames
Even to rejoin the Universe, and vents
Find in a myriad worlds — for their Earth-checked intents !

LXXXVII.

How stilly is this Operation dread

Of the vast Universe, the slightest sound,

The echo of a whisper, soft is shed

Upon the air, my foot-fall on the ground
Is loud, yet on their awful wondrous round

Prescribed, uncounted Worlds stupendous go
Conjointly with our own, their is no bound

To the dread marvels that do round us flow,
In one continuous stream, not shallow and not slow.

THE VISIONARY. 97

LXXXVIII.

Man hath within his Soul some thoughts that seem

As planted there by Heaven far Heaven alone,
And ever and anon vague as some dream

They stir within his spirit and a tone

And token grow, and are a Symbol shown
Of his high origin and glorious end,

Yet shall not bear their fruit, nor blush full-blown,
Till Death, that mighty Husbandman befriend
And snatch him to that clime, towards which all footsteps

tend

LXXXIX.
Thrice-radiant visions ! all-bewitching dreams !

The Oasis-spots in life's long dreary waste —
The honeyed fountains midst its brackish streams —

The flower-wreaths midst its wild-weed -growths of
haste,

The priceless gems that have the stern fronts graced
Of deep and arbitrary Destinies,

The ambrosial, glad Enchantments brightly placed
'Mongst iron Life's cold hard Realities,
The banquets of the Soul — the blossoms of the Skies.

98 THE VISIONARY.

xc.

My best-loved friends, mine only flatterers be

Ever 'twixt me and the obdurate Real, stand —
No proud Enchanter ere more rapt could see

The outshining wonders that obeyed his wand,

Than I, the Worlds that rise at my command —
Oh ! my bless'd Empires — my sweet Realms of Light,

My Jewel-hoards, my Mines, my Fairy- Laud !
My Court, my Counsellors, my Winged Armies bright,
Dazzling to the o'er-wrought soul as noon-suns to the

sight!

XCI.
No ! never came at the olden Magians' call

Such wondrous pomps — spread in such rich display,
As crowd upon my Soul — thrice-glorious all —

In proud successions and sublime array —

Bright sea-like suns — whose splendours ray by ray
Break o'er the thought, like waves upon the strand,

(That leave it sparkling, lustrous even as they
Are lustrous — till one diamond gleams the sand)
And Worlds on Worlds shine there, — too radiant to be

scanned.

THE VISIONARY. 99

XCII.

Midst the disruption of all dearest ties,

These only tempered my torn soul to bear,

These and submission to the Eternal Skies,
Else had I sunk beneath the inflicted care,
And my life's fire had smouldered in despair ;

But I was so sustained and so inspired,
And did that iron in my spirit wear

Calmly, howe'er oppressed, and wrung, and tired —
Nor did Endurance fail — nor Hope herself expired.

XCIII.

The more o'er- clouded mine Horizon grew,

The more I wooed the Ideal's sweet unveiled sun —

The fiercer round me Life's loud tempests blew,
To agitate and vex, and shake and stun,
Till comforts were but few — and pleasures none —

The more I cherished in my bosom's core

The heavenly halcyon calm that soothed and won

My heart to peace, that calm which brightly wore
Those winged, deep, smiling dreams, that blessed me
evermore.

H2

100 THE VISIONARY.

XCIV.

Such thoughts as these became my life of life —
My joy — my trust — my stay — my all in all —

They saved me from much sorrow, and more strife ;
For mine was not a mind to endure the thrall
Of this world's despotism, and ice and gall

My chill'd embittered blood had been, if won
To enter in the lists where thousands fall

And few succeed — yes, I had been undone
But for those gentle dreams, that o'er my spirit shone.

xcv.

What though at times my being they disturbed,

And troubled all the waters of my soul,
Soon — soon I charmed them down, and calmly curbed

My mood till thence the stormy wildness stole;

What though at times they shook my being's whole,
And a distraction and a fever grew,

Yet their departure had become the knoll
Of all my Happiness, and I had few
Hopes to afford to lose, though those I had proved true.

THE VISIONARY. 101

XCVI.

Yes, this has saved me — this, and this alone,

From the Agitation and the Agony
That all too surely my quick heart had known,

Had I mid this world's waste been doomed to sigh ;

But so to roam beneath a glorious sky
Peopled with my own dreams, and to infuse

My spirit through all Nature, and mine eye
To turn unwearyingly on her, and muse
On her for ever, yields, delight I ne'er can lose.

XCVII.

What wondrous difference shews 'twixt man and man !

There you behold one of a towering mind —
Yet with his honours meekly borne ; you scan

No wretched arrogance inflated — blind

And loathsome in the loftiest there — nor find
Repulse of selfishness, but all is just,

Pure, open, true — and here you mark refined
And hateful Egotism, and Pride that must
In Wisdom's Eyes cast down, their bold claims to the

dust.

102 THE VISIONARY.

XCVIII.

Some Men do seem to elevate and raise
Us to themselves in lieu of seeking much

To abase and trample on, to them be praise !

'T is they who have felt the real awakening touch
Of lofty genius, and 't is true that such

More noble make us by their presence high —
And its supreme contagion vouch, oh ! vouch

This bright truth, Ye ! who have ever lingered nigh
The Exalted of the Earth, till ye too trod the sky.

XCIX.

As Persia's minstrel did so sweetly say

In the olden time with tenderness and force,

That the rich Rose enriched the commmonest clay —
So our minds feel that while the inspired discourse
Of such men stirs in us the impassioned source

Of admiration, they do make us glow

With almost kindred feelings — the remorse

Of Approbation shall even, softly flow
Through envious minds at length, those little minds
and low.

THE VISIONARY. 103

c.

But these are the true Noble — the real Great —

Indulgent, generous, open as the day —
Not coldly vain, nor pompously elate,

Nor overweeningly fastidious — say,

Can we ere fear that such minds will betray,
That such can mock, or such mislead — ah no !

Large are their views and straight their shining way,
And Gladly would they share with all below
The immortal Hopes they feel — the exalted Truths they

know.

CI.
Alas ! that Genius ever should be found

Commixed with villanous qualities and base,
Scattering a thousand specious plagues around —

Instead of brightening all Earth's daedal face,

And showering blessings o'er the human race —
Though circling all with its own magic zone —

Still clasping all in pestilent embrace,
With proudest gifts and noblest powers their own,
That mighty minds should e'er — Corruption teach

alone !

104 THE VISIONARY.

C1I.

To thousands, millions, myriads, even may be
Fatal, their flexile, flattering theories vain !

With varying tastes framed artfully to agree —
Those plausible and Proteus doctrines gain
A host of followers— yet do these retain

Their ill-got influence ? — no, awhile believed,
Or wilfully adopted — their dire reign

Continueth — but ere long all undeceived
Their fond Admirers mourn, of every hope bereaved.

cm.

As fireworks cast into a summer sky,

Awhile to affront the stars and then Jjo sink,
To perish into ashes and to die —

So do their thoughts tend to Destruction's brink ;

A moment brilliant they may seem to drink
The brightness from all ancient Truths — but soon

Relapse to darkness and to fragments shrink —
Their light was not their own — an ominous boon,
And thus they have fallen away, as dew-drops dried at

THE VISIONARY. ]05

CIV.

cv.

It is a sorrow — but it must be borne

To feel Doubt darkening more, Hope growing less,
To mingle still mid things we have learned to scorn,

To brunt the churme, the shock, the throng, the press

Of mortals — when that bubble Happiness
Hath burst in our foiled grasp, oh ! when to steel

The heart is vain, we still prove — still possess —

Still bear, and know, seek, toil, trust, fear, and feel,

Then, then we are taught keen pangs, no language can

reveal.

106 THE VISIONARY.

CVI.

How oft mistaking and misunderstood

Walk we this world, and this doth fill our years

With sorrow and vexation, for we brood
Over imagined wrongs — or we shed tears
That others should distrust us, all this wears

Delusion oft, for they dislike not us,

But that false something which to them appears

To be ourselves, — and we too blunder thus,
Judging them ill — on Earth to judge is hazardous.

CVII.

Our slightest actions may assume in sooth

A thousand different colourings unto eyes
Prejudiced and distempered, and the truth

Of the veiled motive's feature, who descries ?

Not the earthly-minded — not the worldly-wise !
Not as they are they're seen, but as the mood

Of others may distort them, and disguise —
Thus We grope on, through Evil, and through Good,
Misunderstanding oft — and oft misunderstood !

THE VISIONARY. J07

CVIII.

Could we be lenient as we would be spared,
Could we extend the indulgence that we claim

To others — Discord's dread torch, which hath flared
So fiercely through all time, that torch whose flame
Seems from the infernal element caught, should tame

And lowly sink, and harmony and peace

And confidence and joy should sweetly blame

The too, too speedy hours for their short lease,
Since happiness and love, like all besides must cease.

CIX.

Though words and works may widely differ here,
Let us content ourselves with scrupulous care

To examine evermore our own, in fear

And watchfulness, and studiously compare —
Conscientiously o'erlook them, so that there

May lurk no error nor discrepancy,

But all be open — candid, frank and fair

As we wish those of others even should be,
So let our works and words, at least be found to agree.

]08 THE VISIONARY.

ex.

Fear not for evermore the ambushed Snare
Lingering with wakeful eye, and watchful ear.

Nor ever in self- torturing doubt prepare

'Gainst dark remote Contingencies ! — in fear
Weigh not all possible chances still 'gainst clear

Plain simple seemings ; there are some who make
A policy of their feelings, and who steer

So carefully, that they no pleasure take
Nor give in life — but keep, Suspicion's eyes awake !

CXI.

This World's Vexations and distractions may

Perplex, but let us still trust to the Skies,
And so our life shall calmer glide away.

Weak — wrong — are they who deem they 're very
wise

To blunt all youthful Sensibilities,
The World will do that for them, and too soon —

Much, much I pity him who ever lies
In fear of being deceived — the rolling Moon
Beholds him sleepless still — in fear he walks at Noon.

THE VISIONARY. 109

CXII.

All passes — but a little, little while

And all we most could feel, shall we forget —
Safe from the cold chicane of human guile,

And worse, the snares by tempting daemons set,

Malice' fell sneer and open Hatred's threat
Shall grieve no more — but while on Earth, we must

Endure the checks and crosses all have met,
And see our dearest hopes borne down to dust,
Broken our tenderest ties — deceived our fondest

trust.

CXIII.
All through the same ordeals must pass below ;

But in what manner they through these may pass
Shall stamp and fix their future weal or woe —

Aye all is light as air and frail as glass,

Fickle as clouds — and fleeting ev'n as grass;
But mighty consequences shall arise

From these slight things — though we are too apt, alas!
To avoid such thoughts — all, all that tempts, that tries —

That purifies, corrects — is sent us from the skies.

HO THE VISIONARY.

CXIV.

Let these things animate — let these things aid
And not o'erwhelm us, nor surprise, nor grieve ;

Let us be confident and not dismayed,
And Fortune's buffet patiently receive-
So may the crown of thorns that she may weave,

Bud into roses round our brows at last-
So may we calmly wait our long reprieve,

Nor shudder, nor shrink back, nor cower aghast,
Whate'er the Future is— we know 'twill be the Past.

cxv.

There is indeed satiety of joy —

There is satiety of sorrow too !
Her draughts of bitterness can sickening cloy,

And so we turn to seek for something new ;

Though like a fond uneasy nurse, she through
Our paths appointed follow, we escape

From her from time to time, and then we strew
Flowers round our franchised footsteps, and we shape
A thousand passionate dreams — and our past selves do

orjp f

THE VISIONARY. HI

CXVI.

Begone pale Sorrow ! take thy leaden hand
From off my heart ! Its pulses must be free. —

Oh ! but 't would feel, and prove, and understand,
And pierce all folds of mighty mystery —
But thus o'erborne and checked, and chained of thee,

It knows not, may not see, — all seemeth cast
In darkest mould — all mocks its search — to be

Unchained is its chief prayer, — oh Grief, at last
Depart, — come Future, come, and Venge the embittered
Past!

CXVII.

I deemed at last I was full deeply skilled

To more than cloak my feelings — to controul —

To be but what I planned and what I willed,
The master of mine own well-governed Soul,
Of all my being — of my feeling's whole —

A dream and a delusion ! and I sigh

To think how such vain clouds about us roll —

A thaw hath come o'er my Philosophy —
I am but what I was — must I thus live — thus die ?

J]2 THE VISIONARY.

CXVIII.

CXIX.

Vexed are the Nations now — a murmur comes

Upon the troubled air, dull deep and low,
As it arose from the Under-world of tombs —

And who its meaning to the full doth know?

A thousand Changes seem to impend below,
For Good or Evil, who shall dream or tell ?

Who, who shall the End of these strange ferments

show,

'Tis dark, 't is cloudy — hark ! like a dread knell
Of all things ancient — known, that sound might seem to swell.

THE VISIONARY. \\Q

cxx.

Now Men would rule their Rulers, and do judge
The Authorities above them, and would tower

High o'er the Exalted of the Land — and grudge
To all besides the privilege and the power —
The feverish rage doth every breast devour —

But Time in his progressive course shall show
How vain the favourite fallacies of the hour,

Could those who claim proud Independence know
How near that envied state, are they — are all — below !

CXXI.

Man's Government 's indeed in his own breast,

Kings, Senates, Constitutions, Laws, in truth
Leave this fact still unchanged ; and deeply blest

Is he in age and in a rational youth

Who feels this strongly : from the inspired mouth
Of Sages old hath this not been declared ?

For others and yourselves feel then more ruth
Than thus to desolate what time has spared,
Than thus to raze the shrines, and towers your Fathers

reared.

J14 THE VISION.ARY.

CXXII.

'T were wiser would you leave things all untouched

And seek to improve your faulty inner state,
(Though proud in sooth the exalted aim avouched)

And make ye worthier of a loftier fate !

Than thus to seek to anticipate the date
When such desired Advancement shall become

And beneficially promote you, — wait,
Oh ! wait awhile — till the opening blush and bloom
Mellow to ripened fruit — nor tempt a headlong doom.

CXXIII.

Light bubbles have ere this been chased and clutched —
Pause ! nor too rashly your own strength overrate,

Why seek ye to be stilted, propped, and crutched ?
But 't is the day's wild freak to lay strange weight
On the outward things — and miserably to abate

Zeal in the inner ! Oh ! that it were not so,

Then might the Good be honoured as the Great,

Peace might then shed her rosiest smiles below,
And Piety and Love, decrease our sum of Woe !

THE VISIONARY. 1 15

CXXIV.

But so it is — and evil 't is and ill —

Men's minds — while signs and portents round them lower —
Still superficially — to Externals still

Directed seem — Heaven's richest Manna shower

Of Plenty's blessings were distasteful, sour,
To those who crave excitement. Lo ! the cry

For Freedom is, should it not be for Power?
For this men Treason take for their ally —
And Faction, Discord, Strife, bar Earth from the orient sky.

cxxv.

The Actors and the Acts seem great and proud
In these momentous times — yet Man's affairs

Are ever mixed with petty things ; — avowed
Are loftiest aims, but many a bosom shares
The meanest feelings, and most selfish cares.

Could it be otherwise — then forth might shine
O'er every Land a star whose clear light bears

Hope and assurance on its beam divine,
Blest Freedom, thy bright star — that gilds pure Virtue's
shrine !

116 THE VISIONARY.

CXXVI.

In these times all Men boasting seem to claim,

That all beside should unto them defer —
Their judgments, though most impotent and lame,

They still to all the world's too much prefer !

And in the coil — and the distracting stir —
The wrath — the rage — all struggle — and each strives !

O'er others still a contumelious slur
To cast, each seeks, each at the sole aim drives
To be the first, and best, — how oft the un worthiest

thrives !

CXXVII.
England, my Country ! doubtless it is well

For all states in firm friendship to remain,
And as a Commonwealth of Nations dwell ;

Nor seek each other or to thwart or chain,

And yet I scarce can see without some pain,
Gaul's blood-steeped hand stretched forth and grasped
by thine,

Too recent and too deadly is the stain,
That marks her ; — severed by old Ocean's brine,
Let us not seek with her, too strictly close to entwine.

THE VISIONARY. U7

CXXVIII.

Treacherous — inconstant — to herself she is,

How may we hope to us she will prove true,
Veering and varying with each changeful breeze,

Are trust and confidence indeed her due?

Empress of Ocean ! Nature's hint pursue,
And even in Amity divided still

Remain — or sorely, vainly may'st thou rue —
Those broadly-sundering Waters that fulfil
Heaven's fixed design — and hest, — they are no scant

wandering rill !

CXXIX.
Upon that Ocean let thy Flag supreme

Wave still — keep — Albion ! keep — thine ancient sway
Stand sunlike lone, though all bask in thy beam! —

Yon mighty masts are pillars whose proud stay

Upholds thy Realm ! — towards Heaven they shoot —

as they
Would like Conductors o' the armed Lightnings be —

The armed Lightnings of that Heaven's roused wrath away
From thy sweet shores — brave Armaments ! — how ye,
Proclaim she still would reign — inviolate, great and free!

Hg THE VISIONARY.

cxxx.

Yea ! like Conductors of the winged Lightnings fierce —

Of the oft-waked wrath divine from our loved Land,
While to the o'ershadowing clouds they lance-like pierce

Towering aloft — those proud pines seem to stand ;

How many— when distant from their native strand
Have at their foot fallen low ! — while safe and far

In flourishing Peace and prosperous Quiet bland
Unharmed by all the shocks and scathes of War
Their Island-home remained — girt with its billowy bar.

CXXXI.

Yet fallen as Conquerors too ! that Voice which spoke
That dread behest— which gave them to their grave,

Bade that 'midst Victory's sunbursts the fierce stroke
Of Fate should fall— full oft !— so 'midst the Brave,
Trafalgar's Hero perished on the wave —

The Eternal Hand chastening in blessing took
Our Country's Idol-treasure then — and gave

A dear-bought triumph— till the awed nation shook
Pondering the grace vouchsafed — and the eloquent stern
rebuke !

THE VISIONARY. 1 19

CXXXII.

England, crown'd England ! while one Bark of thine
Walks the old Ocean — the all-imperial Sea

Casting its giant shadows o'er the brine,

Surely that winged and bannered Bark shall be
That Ocean's proud Palladium ! still be free—

Be mighty, England ! be thy sacred shore
Still the bless'd haunt of Godlike Liberty !

But thus to be, be as thou wert before,
Be as thou still hast been — now and for evermore !

CXXXIII.

Vexed are the Nations now, the heroic Land,
The chivalrous, renowned, poetic Spain

In many a hostile and determined band

Sees her own Children formed, the red red rain
That deeply bathes each fair and smiling plain

Is all her heart's blood; will those wounds ne'er close ?
The Lusian, for awhile may seem to feign

Contentment — peace — but in such outward shows
Can we put faith where late, War's deadliest Standard

120 THE VISIONARY.

CXXXIV.

In Italy — ten thousand smothered fires

Like those in their own stern Vesuvius' breast

Her Sons confess — the Spirits of their Sires

Would they resume ? nor longer sink, oppressed
In idlesse vain, and ignominious rest —

Would they now bare the steel and brace the helm,
And strive the enslaving foe, whom they detest —

With one proud, fearful, glorious blaze to o'ervvhelm —
Whose twilight should gild even, the Sun of their bright
Realm !

cxxxv.

Mine own sweet Country ! what is like to thee,

Even now though cloudy Discord for awhile*
Obscure thine aspect's holy brilliancy —

And chase the living glories of thy smile —

Matchless, triumphant, Beatific Isle !
Oh ! may that smile return— that gloom depart—

The deep o'erflowing of the all-hallowed Nile
Of kindred blood within, ere long each heart
Shall surely softening, melt, and heal each jealous smart.

* Written during a period of popular commotion.

THE VISIONARY. 121

CXXXVI.

Where'er I go — where'er I have ever been,

Whate'er I have found to approve and to admire
In distant lands disjoined, in alien scene —

Can but more fan the patriotic fire

Within my Soul, and raise it proudly, higher —
My Country ! 't was thine own unaided might,

Thy pufe ambition and thy large desire
That raised thee too thine all pre-eminent height,
And made thee shine supreme, robed round with Glory's

light.

CXXXVII.
Not the all indulged, and spoiled and favourite child

Wert thou of Nature, like Ausonia's Land —
All matchless in her wane, and, in her wild

A prodigy of luxuriance ! — though the brand

Of Shame be on her brow — the heavy hand
Of Despotism upon her bowed neck — yet

How fair she shines, as though the Enchanter's wand
Waved o'er her — well may all but she forget,
That 't is the Oppressor's scourge, — and must that proud

sun set ?

122 THE VISIONARY.

CXXXVIII.

Oh, Italy ! who is he that can roam

Cold, uninspired through fields and groves like thine?
Like Heaven — like Heaven, thou universal home

For all Mankind — since to thy haunts divine

They hurrying throng — as pilgrims to the shrine
To see how glorious Nature can be made —

How Art can even with undimmed lustre shine
By her celestial Sister's side — arrayed
In Mind's own Light divine — without a spot or shade.

CXXXIX.

I have looked from thy flowered fields, through thy
clear air

Up to the pomp of thy thrice glorious Skies —
I have loved all, all thou hast of bright and fair

I have worshipped with deep inarticulate sighs,

Fervent as prayers when they too speechless rise,
All that thou hast of sacred — ruinous gloom,

Till ached with Adoration, heart and eyes,
I have mused midst thy dread World of Shadows,

Rome !
And hailed thy last-born Pride — thine Apostolic Dome.

THE VISIONARY. 123

CXL.

Yea ! I have looked on thee, most glorious pile ;
In moonlight and in sunshine, or when gloom
Frowned round — or twilight touched thee with pale smile.
Thy gates once passed — the great gates of the tomb
Seem also passed ! and our brief years of doom
Accomplished, for even like the vestibule

Of Heaven art thou, and in thee there is room
For boundless thoughts ! though sense be made the tool
Through which the inspired, freed Soul, can shake off
Earth's dull rule.

CXLI.
Rome ! Rome ! time was when thy great Freemen's

swords

Swayed all ! Time was when thy proud Pontiffs placed
On mountainous Eminence, as Chiefs and Lords
Of Earth's religious Polity — ev'n as graced
With powers unearthly that all power embraced,
As Soldans of the World's great Soul, high reared
Their Mitred heads — stretched forth their hands and

traced

Their laws on every land — the obeyed, the feared —
The Earth's all Imperial Ark, at their own will they steered.

124 THE VISIONARY.

CXLII.

And thou ! sweet Florence ! on thy smiling stream,
Thy graceful Arno, thou hast many a claim

To fondest admiration ! many a Dream
Of joy arises at thy gentlest name —
The Heavenly Venus of all beauteous fame

With glorified enchantment on her brow,
Whose sov'ran aspect might a Savage tame

And teach a dsemon, Love's sweet charm to avow !
And thou, rare pictured form — transcendant Sybil — thou !

CXLIII.

Looking on thee, what deep emotions dart

Through the thrilled soul that yields to their soft
might,

What gentle throbbings heave the o'ermastered heart —
While the air around thee grows one flood of light,
What Spirit in thine eyes sits throned and bright ?

We feel, we feel, from Earth's gross bondage free,
We rivet upon thee our raptured sight —

'T is rapture all ! for thou seem'st Heaven to see,
And we, we are gazing thus, all breathlessly on thee!

THE VISIONARY. 125

CXLIV.

Thy look doth more — transcendantly doth more
Than Music's rapt Cecilia did, I deem,

With all her charms and powers inspired of yore ;
The Angel left for those Heaven's cloudless beam,
But thou mak'st Earth unto our golden dream,

A very Heaven indeed, and from thine eyes
Do we receive the impressions that so teem

Upon our spirits that they ascend the skies,
Yet scarcely know the while, how high and far they rise !

CXLV.

I have left thee now, Oh ! Inspiration's Land
Cserulean, sunny, bright Ausonia — yea

I have left thee now for my loved native strand,
But thy sweet name is writ with every ray
Of thine own sunshine on my heart — to essay

To blot it thence were vain — though thus won back
To each old familiar and accustomed way,

Those wonted ways perchance some charms may lack,
But still we glide again, into the habitual track.

126 THE VISIONARY.

CXLVI.

CXLVII.

Life hath but little change — dull sameness 'tis—

The trivial change it hath 's monotonous —
A little fear and hope — some pain, small bliss,

Are not our destinies analogous ? —

Yet — yet there is Variety for us —
Each in his secret bosom may behold

The Mirror of Great Nature — luminous
Or dark — according to the mystic mould
In which his Nature 's cast — till Life's brief tale is told.

THE VISIONARY. 127

CXLVIII.

Within, within may change perchance be found,

Without — but little difference seems to be ;
Through thrice-refined Society look round —

What on its polished surface may you see,

Save dull Mediocrity's monotony ?
And if by accident some bright ray dart

Through all the chill and torpor, quick and free,
The mind whence that flashed forth soon learns its part,
Soon arms itself with all, the subtle powers of art !

CXLIX.

Art ! thou 'rt right lovely in thy proper place,

Right lovely and right wond'rous — but thou art vile

Upon the living field of human face.

With thine elaborate cunning and cold wile,—
Most loathsome of all things — detested guile !

Art ! that on Earth thou mightest be put to shame
With thy false show, and florid, flourished style—

I shudder at the whisper of thy name, —
Would, would that all might learn, to avow and feel the
same.

128 THE VISIONARY.

CL.

Oh ! in some Souls there is sublimely found
A fire — an action — a bright zeal's excess —

A scope — a spring — a vehemence without bound;
A Passion and a sense of Power which dress
Existence with a pomp of Consciousness !

Enthusiasm hath done the part of Death

With these — to each dim, each far, each veiled recess

Of the Universe they pierce — above — beneath —
The Infinites they rejoin, i' the days of Mortal breath !

CLI.

Such glorious souls, such gifted minds as these —
Their great thoughts will not miserably tame down —

Because all round them doth in torpor freeze ;

Nor can they, shrinking from the World's harsh frown
Their radiant natures tremblingly disown —

Art was not made for them — they cannot seem

That which they are not — though untowardly thrown

'Mongst those who mine and countermine and scheme
Distrusting each the rest — barred even from self-esteem.

THE VISIONARY. 129

CLII.

Through clouds and darkness spread on every side
We take our difficult and dubious way,

Too oft impatient of a better guide

Than our own Reason with its feeble ray
That just around our path doth flickering play

Only to cast a darkness more intense

O'er the awful Mysteries which the Sons of clay

With their weak faculties and bounded sense
Can never pierce ! deep — dread — o'erpowering and im-
mense.

CLIII.

That Reason was but given to us to illume
Our temporary track and passage here —

When o'er dim time — and far beyond the tomb
And high above this low and petty sphere
We would direct our gaze, 't is Faith must clear

Our clouded, darken'd eyes — Faith — which alone
Can be our beacon, when we fain would steer

'Mongst hidden marvels, Faith which even hath flown
Where Knowledge ne'er can reach, to the Everlasting
Throne.

130 THE VISIONARY.

CLIV.

We cannot understand ourselves — strange 't is

That man should seek his Maker to detect —
All fathomless our springs of pain and bliss,

And can we in fatuity expect

To search His Being? if we are bleakly wrecked
On the despair of a bright Faith undone

That awful punishment may Heaven direct
As meetest for our Sin ! — thus, thus we have won
But ignorance more complete — struck blind by that dread

Sun.

CLV.
How dare we hope to sound that Boundlessness —

Which hath nor length nor breadth nor depth nor

height,
To reach that Majesty's supreme Excess —

Far easier 't were to grasp and weigh the Light,

To paint the Wind on its mysterious flight,
Than to trace that Existence — far beyond

The Arch-angel's comprehension — keenly bright,
Let us forsake rash fancies crude and fond,
Nor with presumption soar — nor with weak faith despond.

THE VISIONARY. 131

CLVI.

Still let us be content to adore — not know —
Oh ! what wert Thou could we unravel thee !

Yea ! let us humbly be content, below

To acknowledge Thou still unapproached must be,
And make ourselves thy favoured Family.

Enough on Earth remains for us to do —
For our brief span is not Eternity,

Our days are short, and rapid as they are few,
And soon our little lease is dimly hurried through.

CLVII.

A mote in the eye can shut out the great Sun
Borne on his thousand thousand golden wheels,

A slight sound close to the ear can sting and stun —
A vague doubt which the heart within us feels
Can bar us from the Universe ! — So steels

The Soul 'gainst strong Conviction some Caprice
Of reasoning most fallacious, and so seals

Our doom — some ignoble and petty vice
That hides from jaundiced eyes — Good's noblest Edifice.

132 THE VISIONARY.

CLVIII.

How strictly should we look through our own minds —
Our own deceitful hearts, day after day —

Where Sin innate, inherent — binds and blinds,
And countless passions stand in dread array
Leave one unchecked, how soon its reckless sway

Spreads fierce confusion and distraction round —
In the ominous Conflagration, each sweet ray

Of truth, peace, hope, is lost — while without bound
It onward sweeps — and all bowed to its rule is found.

CLIX.

Alas ! even thus a slight Grief oft hath power
To embitter all the comforts that we share,

To o'ercloud the present and the future hour,
And fill our days with suffering and with care,
Till drop by drop, too surely doth it wear

The withering heart away. — 1 have known such grief,
And I have known too the phrenzies of Despair,

And though awhile its rage may spurn relief,
This last is easier borne — since its fierce reign is brief.

THE VISIONARY. 133

CLX.

Wherefore this change and whence? I deemed 'twas past,
I deemed 't was all, all o'er — little we know

Or what we are or may become ! — at last
I feel how we deceive — in bliss or woe —
Ourselves profoundly ever — and bestow

Care infinite such deceit to improve ; dark Life,
Thou web of wonders ! onwards as I go

The more dost thou perplex me ; thou art rife
Of endless mysteries still, or in thy calm or strife.

CLXI.

134 THE VISIONARY.

CLXII.
Joy lit his torch a moment in my path

To show me but my Griefs extreme extent,
My Grief of After and Before ! that breath,

That sweet and summer breath appeared but lent

To bring forth tenderest blooms— soon to be blent
With all the faded flowers of Love and Hope

Which were the reliques — without hue or scent
Of hours like them all withered — let them droop
And die as those have done ! — with fate no more I cope.

CLXIII.

Hence, hence, misleading Hope ! — no more intrude,

Leave me ! too faithless Hope ! — for thou hast done
Worse mischief in an hour than grief hath brewed

In years — leave me — Oh ! most perfidious One,

Oh ! Irresistible ! — to lean upon
Thy staff — a spear, to clasp thy rock — a rack,

Too fondly I have been, and still am prone,
But I will hunt thee to thine aerie back,
Thy far nest in the clouds, though all beneath look black !

THE VISIONARY. 135

CLXIV.

Sorrow ! I choose thee — court thee — am all thine,

Thy pensive charms have deeply, wholly won
My heart and soul— and all that is of mine

I would be thine, pale shadowy Queen alone !

Hope — restless and deceitful, hence, begone —
I banish thee with thy too constant train

Of doubts and fears and pangs — 'tis lost, 'tis flown,
The only Star that could with tranquil reign
Govern my Soul's deep tides — I demand back my pain !

CLXV.

To occupy and fill a feeling heart

There is enough in ever varied life
Without enacting a conspicuous part —

Without commingling in its noisy strife,

If once Endurance hath with keen cold knife
Lopped off the excrescences of selfish hope

And a sweet form hath risen — like Pluto's wife,
Smiling o'er Life's stern Stygian gloom to stoop,
Whose name Submission is — then, then no more we

droop ;

136 THE VISIONARY.

CLXVI.

Then gush the deep heart's hallowed Springs again,
For others 't is we feel— fain would we learn

Or to redress their sufferings and their pain
Or sympathizingly with them to mourn
Nor proudly ask for Gratitude's return,

Let us ne'er think of that, nor dare to expect !
Yet shall we most indisputably earn

A solemn, sweet reward, nor shall be wrecked
On the worst, dreariest shore — of harsh self-disrespect.

CLXVII.

When from our hold our long-loved treasures slip —
Oh ! when we strip our Idols of their dress,

'T where better did we our own folly strip,
For our own folly and our own excess
Have wrought us harm and manifold distress ;

Fate may pursue us angrily below,

But we ourselves do oft-times darkly press

The yoke of stern Adversity and Woe
More on our shoulders still — as we would have it so !

THE VISIONARY. 137

CLXVIII.

We are the fools of our own foolish hearts —
The Slaves of our own Vanity's excess —

And lay our bosoms open to the darts1
And stings of Fortune thus, too blindly — yes,
Our phantasies— our frailties none may guess —

They may not numbered be by mortal tongue,
The veil — the enshrouding veil we may confess

Were well withdrawn o'er our false Idols flung,
'Twere better were that raised — which o'er ourselves
hath hung !

CLXIX.

Our weakness — our vanities — rest sure
Are ever our most dire and deadly foes ;

If we would seek and find for ills a Cure,
We must arise from perilous repose,
And the Actual State of our own Minds disclose

Even to ourselves, that by the roots we may
Pluck up the plant of Evil ere it grows

Too strong and stubborn our weak hands to obey,
All undecaying then, save with our Own decay.

138 THE VISIONARY.

CLXX.

Ten thousand trifles fling their clouds of dust

In our duped eyes ; and with close trammels bind —
In lightest toys we place our solemn trust,

To our immortal interests madly blind ;

We hurry on in hope at length to find
That which we promise to ourselves until

In the creation of our own vain mind
We do put faith, and seek with stubborn Will
That Paradise unseen — of our Pretension still.

CLXXI.

The Paradise of our Presumption ! — which

We deem we should possess, as though thou wert,
Happiness — our own sweet fee, bright and rich !

Oh ! Happiness ! our due and our desert !

We dare dream that, supine and all inert
We thus shall merit thee ! rash fancy vain !

While haughtily and fiercely heaves the heart
Defyingly 'gainst earthly ills and pain,
But these shall come and must, with Death too in their

train.

THE VISIONARY. 139

CLXXII.

There are, who from the worst of Slavery freed —
The Slavery of the Tyrannous treacherous will,

Devote each hour, each thought, each word, and deed
Unto the good of others — and fulfil
Nobly their destinies — and finely thrill

With high and holy and august desires,

These, nothing know of the benumbing chill

Of narrow Selfishness — their Soul aspires
To free and airy heights, nor on its proud flight tires.

CLXXIII.

These draw ev'n from the depths of their own minds
Their strong support — their cheer, their recompense;

Unshaken by Life's varying tides and winds,
And fired by one pure blameless hope intense —
And by a never-sleeping, fervent sense

Of solemn Duty, they shape their bright course
Through Fate's involving shadows deep and dense,

Not theirs the ills that spring from Guilt's stained

source,
Nor theirs pale Discontent — nor stinging sharp Remorse.

140 THE VISIONARY.

CLXXIV.

To exalt— to benefit— to improve Mankind —
To magnify their Maker's name divine,

They live alone, each pettier hope resigned,
That generous purpose they will not resign
Though they may baffled and discouraged pine —

With saint-like patience strengthened, they arise
At last to see the Star celestial shine,

The sweet Star of Success before their eyes —
Which pours o'er all the Earth, the brightness of the
skies.

CLXXV.

Such those have been who have toiled through the

steep ways
Of hard and difficult Science self-sustained —

And dedicated all their studious days

To deep and lone research, those who have refrained
From self-indulgence and at once disdained

The low and little pleasures of the Earth,
And all the petty miseries that have pained

Their feelings — human still ; their 's is a worth
That sheds a lustre pure, o'er all of human birth.

THE VISIONARY. 141

CLXXVI.

They suffered — yes ! they suffered, for Life hath

No fortunate clime exempt from pain and woe,
Sharp briars and thorns o'errun its fairest path,

And none may 'scape dark Sorrow's rule below —

But their high hearts could proud and tameless glow
With dreams beyond Ambition's haughtiest dreams —

And heavenly fountains soothed them with their flow,
And cloudless Suns illumed them with their beams —
To which their thoughts lent yet, more bright and

glorious gleams !

CLXXVII.
Such noble minds for Truth unwearied seek —

And for that truth's divine and honoured sake,
Bear scorn and wrong full oft, with sufferance meek,

And many a scoff from the distrustful take —

For slow must be the progress that they make —
Long must they plod and slave ere they arrive

At their deep object — and ere they can shake
Dull Error's mantle from Men's minds and give
Clear proofs of what they vouch — long, long 't is theirs

to strive.

142 THE VISIONARY.

CLXXVIII.

They take a great Truth in its infant state,
And with a nursing Theory they surround —

As though you would place a Palm of the earliest date
Within a crystal Urn's transparent bound —
But — lo ! it springs, thrives, sprouts, spreads, nor
is found

Place in the vessel to its nurture given —

At length with stateliest strength and vigour crown'd,

Behold ! the while it upwards shoots towards Heaven,
That frail shell it bursts through — split — shattered —
shivered — riven !

CLXXIX.

Even so it happens oft i' the World of Thought,
When after zealous toil and pains profound —

To imprison some grand Truth — when thus they have wrought
And planned and raised a skeleton structure round,
Their glorious Charge expanding, scorns its bound,

Opening out — branch by branch, — before their eyes !
While fall their laboured Systems to the ground —

Their speculative schemes ! — how doth it rise,
Shrouding its sovereign head, in the all o'ershado wing skies !

THE VISIONARY. 143

CLXXX.

They must take up the fractured fragments, then —
And to their noble work unchecked, return,

They must commence their labours o'er again,
Those fragments yet may in some mightier urn
Be brought to use, then shall they humbly learn,

While the heightening, strengthening, widening,

wakening Truth
Appears to escape from them, that they must spurn

Their own beginnings faulty and uncouth,
Nor seek the Giant growth, to swathe as in its Youth.

CLXXXI.

Their own beginnings ? — oft, too oft alas !

Those who first pierced the gloom and led the way
Have passed away from Earth whence all must pass

Ere the orient dawning of the auspicious Day —

Which saw success, supreme success, repay
The efforts of the diligent — ah ! not theirs,

Who the first effort made — the first essay,
Who cheered alone by Hope's inspiring airs,
Stern difficulties dared — and plunged midst deepening

cares.

144 THE VISIONARY.

CLXXXII.

How different from those thoughtful Sages meek,
The Candidates for Worldly good and gain !

Though all as strenuously they toil — and seek
To satisfy their thirst — to shine — or reign,
Though dreams as full and complex crowd their brain,

And fiercer agitation rock their days —

How narrow seem their views, their hopes how vain,

How miserably the prize the toil repays,
The gew-gaws of vain state — the Conqueror's blood-
dyed bays.

CLXXX1II.

On stern atchievement wreaked they their proud minds,

And stern atchievement hath raised these to fame,
And while Ambition's cloud Man's judgment blinds,

Thousands will risk Life, Peace, Heaven for a name ;

Throughout all ages it hath been the same —
Still when not made atrocious by Excess,

'Tis a right noble passion ! — and a flame,
Which Man is not all called on to suppress —
But in how few 't is seen, due Temperance to possess !

THE VISIONARY. 145

CLXXXIV.

Build not your hopes of Happiness upon

The ruins of another's broken hope,
'Tis worse than folly — when the prize is won,

Soon to the heavy truth your eyes shall ope —

How shall ye then, 'mid self-reproaches droop,
For Conscience shall assail ye with a sting

That finds the Soul's quick vitals, why then stoop
To ignoble Selfishness ? rise, rise and wring
The accursed drop from the heart — shed from some

deadly spring.

CLXXXV.

From your too fond embrace should straight be wrenched

That dangerous Idol — Self ! — perchance ye deem
That in that marble Selfishness entrenched

You 're safe from common griefs, — mistaken dream !

The Egotist's breast shall ever darkly teem
With countless shapes of fear, and doubt, and ill, —

Each slight and small mischance to him shall seem
A dire misfortune — while with gloomy skill
He builds on lightest grounds, his faint forebodings still.

146 THE VISIONARY.

CLXXXVI.

Who would be happy must make others so,

Or nobly work to that praiseworthy end —
Must soothe the Sufferer's pangs, the Wretch's woe,

And of the Friendless prove the unchanging friend ;

Then, then nor time nor fate from him shall rend
The sweet calm sense of self-approval meek,

Which shall with every hallowed feeling blend,

And shed o'er every path — though rough and bleak,

A glow more pure than e'er — laughed o'er Aurora's cheek.

CLXXXVII.

That Kindliness of feeling it shall prove

Betwixt his heart, and light and common woes

A wall of Adamant — the Spirit of Love —

A guardian Seraph dwells in the hearts of those
Whose breast with blameless, pure Affection glows,

The thought of Self not ever uppermost

Reigns in their souls — and so they find repose —

Not on the waves of cold Suspense still tost —
But where shall these be found, on bleak Life's sterile

THE VISIONARY. J47

CLXXXVIII.

CLXXXIX.

Professions and pretensions — these things seem

The staple of the World's impoverished mart —
And all indeed a vapour and a dream —

'T were well to dwell from its thronged scenes apart.

Vain, vain it is to coin the very heart,
To gain what 's oftener gained by chance or fraud

While we are left to disappointment's smart !
Let us those wiser, nobler Spirits laud,
That are not by this World, deceived, or pleased, or awed !
L 2

148 THE VISIONARY.

CXC.

You shall see oft its fairest favours thrust
On him, who careless and unheeding, shews

No wish to obtain them — oft, oft on the unjust,
The time-servers, the extortioners, and on those
Who ne'er their own vile characters disclose,

And still distrust all others evermore —

As though their fellows must be found their foes —

With jealous hatred deep in their heart's core —
How oft on these the World, doth its just favours pour!

CXCI.

We are — we act — we fancy that we bear,

While Life's great Engine works with ceaseless stir,

In the loud general business our own share,
And start to rash Excitement's sudden spur,
And spin our shred and stem while we incur

Shipwreck by such vain daring — Fate's strong wave,
While Peace for which we all our prayers prefer

Perchance would come — did we not rail and rave
Still 'gainst our doom — Joy — Joy ? — that dwells beyond
the grave.

THE VISIONARY. 149

CXCII.

All think that others must be happier far,

Less tempted and less tried and less opprest
Than they themselves in their condition are —

They know the secrets of their own dark breast !

Could they as clearly read those of the rest
They might judge differently — it matters not !

Each is of Earth the temporary guest —
Soon shall his little troubles be forgot,
When the great Leveller comes, to fix his final Lot.

CXCIII.

Oh ! be ye sure that each his part doth bear,
Of the great yoke of Universal Pain !

Howe'er to us the surface may appear,
Could we the bosom probe to ascertain
The truth and the whole truth, we should refrain

From querulous murmurs, and from captious plaints —
How many that strive the smiles of Joy to feign,

Know how the heart beneath its anguish faints,
While wretchedness is theirs — Expression's skill ne'er
paints.

J50 THE VISIONARY.

CXCIV.

All wear the links of the long galling chain —

Those who from Pomp and Pleasure seek vain aids,
And haply those who from Life's busy train

Apart, dwell calm in Home's sequestered shades,

If no specific ill their peace invades,
Perchance too well aware are they how brief

That hollow peace may prove — how quickly fades
Each flower of Joy — each hue of Love, and chief,
How soon from Life's book torn, shall be their finished

leaf.

cxcv.

Surely it is the heaviest grief of all,

To feel i' the midst of every dear delight —

How soon the dull, deep universal pall —

Shall hide our close clasped treasures from our sight,
Lost in the bottomless abyss of night ;

To know the heart's own living tendrils round

Sweet shapes ephemeral — fragile as they are bright —

Are with a desperate vain persistance wound,
To feel our towers of trust soon, soon must strew the
ground.

THE VISIONARY. 151

CXCVI.

Perchance the wretch who nothing hath to fear

Since he hath nought to lose, whose restless glance
Seeks still some prospect to console or cheer,

To whom like dearest friends seem Change and
Chance,

Who dwells for ever in a shadowy trance
Of aimless hope, may almost be more blest

Than those who shuddering see, too swift advance
The ruthless Tyrant at whose dire behest,
Of their rich treasured stores, they must be dispossessed.

CXCVII.
And is the difference then so deep and wide

Between the happy and the wretched here?
No ! while on this frail Earth we must abide,

While we are Sojourners of this dim sphere —

Closely allied must be the smile and tear, —
While Time and Death maintain their iron sway,

And dark Uncertainty, and doubt and fear —
Make all their trembling vassals — Say, oh ! say —
Can there much difference be— indeed, 'twixt clay and

clay ?

152 THE VISIONARY.

CXCVIIL

If for a moment o'er the woe-worn mind
A ray of joy with blinding brightness play,

How vivid — Oh ! how exquisite, how refined,
That welcome, rare, and overpowering ray ! —
It sheds the radiance of etherial day

Throughout the whole Existence, every thought
And feeling own the sweet despotic sway

Of rapture then, the bosom's depths are fraught
With full ecstatic dreams, exuberant and o'erwrought.

CXCIX.

Ah ! when I loved thee deeply — but in vain,
If through the heavy darkness round me spread,

One gleam of hope shot kindling to my brain,
How seemed I then, on Air and Light to tread,
From hard reality — too dull and dead,

Snatched in a moment to the purple Land
Of laughing Visions — and all gently led

Through paths of Gladness, by an unseen hand,
How did I feel my Soul, soar, quicken and expand.

THE VISIONARY. 153

CC.

Now that calm reason and monotonous years,

Have ta'en away the point and edge of pain,
And dried the o'erflowing source of passionate tears,

Such moments come no more ! though I would fain

Coin even my very vitals to regain —
Those dear-bought dreams — at times ! — So bright,

So glorious were they, without one dull stain
Of Earth to lessen their supreme delight,
Like those fair shadowless Worlds, that only shine at

night.

CCI.
Yes ! willingly at times would I endure

Mine own most costly wretchedness once more ! —
That lent me joys thus perfect and thus pure —

Could I but dream as I have dreamt before,

Could I but feel to the heart's quivering core
That flash of rapturous Ecstasy, that did mock

All common happiness — that lightened o'er
Mine inmost being — riving the dull rock
Of a chilled deadened heart, with its electric shock.

154 THE VISIONARY.

ecu.

Nature hath dowered some beings 't is most plain,

With finer capabilities of joy,
With keener sensibilities of pain,

But say, oh ! ye who your deep thoughts employ

On human study — pleasure or annoy
Shall this yield to them ? Since alas ! below

Too soon falls broken every gilded toy
Of hope from our vain hold ; but pain and woe —
These pass not from us thus — these, these depart not so.

CCIII.

Their inclinations may be stronger too —

Through chequered life to evil — and to good,

But where temptations evermore pursue

Their toiling steps, hard, hard to be withstood,
Oft this must fatal prove, for still they're wooed

Unto the broad and smooth and smiling way,
And when unguarded in light heedless mood,

May be in hapless moments led astray,
And plunged in dark remorse— whose debt they trebly
pay.

THE VISIONARY. 155

CCIV.

But when these do succeed in their most hard
And painful struggle, shall they not secure

A more exalted and sublime reward,

Than those who less resist and less endure,
Who have not found so many things to allure,

So many things to combat — in the years

Of mortal life — whose trials have been fewer,

And fewer too whose triumphs ? Yea ! their tears
Shall all be wiped away — and soothed their trembling
fears.

ccv.

Might I but claim to be 'mongst those enrolled,

But no ! such claims I must perforce resign,
Though cast like them in quick and passionate mould,

Alas ! no such high merit may be mine.

I can but offer to the throne Divine
My penitence — mine infirmities — my tears —

My once-bright hopes in their faint dim decline ;
The ruins and the shadows of wrecked years,
All that my Soul desires, and all my crushed heart bears.

]56 THE VISIONARY.

CCVI.

If sufferings — heavy sufferings — sharp and deep —
In this poor mortal state — this Earthly sphere

Endured — might ever claim and sweetly reap
A blest reward on high, then, then though here,
I weep, hereafter — without doubt or fear,

I might expect, to enjoy ! — that dreariest pain
Must ever now be mine, to which no tear

Can bring relief, the thought that ne'er again
Long withered hopes can bloom — in woe-worn heart or
brain.

CCVII.

Linger awhile, dear thoughts of bygone joys,
And then subside and sink for evermore,

For too much memory of the Past destroys
The Present ! I must wend on to the shore
Of my repose unmurmuring ! — nor deplore

With impious grief, that some sweet boons bestowed
In mercy on me may be mine no more ;

Still midst the ills that crowd along my road,
Some few faint Joys remain, to lighten Care's dull load.

THE VISIONARY. ]57

CCVIII.

Still as we on our pilgrimage must go,
'Twere better were our eyes reverted not,

Why should we wish to chain our quick hearts so
To what is past and perished of our lot —
The Present's cloud-veiled sun glows not too hot —

Why should we seek to tame it down, and lean
Ever to what is lost — until forgot

What i* appears, at last, in what hath been,
And sevenfold Shadows cross, Life's alway shadowy scene !

CCIX.

Oh, Happiness, too lovely and too vain,

We doat on thee — not knowing thee— and grind

Our hearts to dust in thy name — and all pain
Endure, all danger dare, if thou behind
Appearest to shine ! — as one who stands to find

Glory in Nature's Aspect and bright glow

Near some clear crystal pane, — while all resign 'd

To view, — not grasp is safe, is blest, —(not so
If he stretch forth his hands, to snatch and seize — that
show!)

158 THE VISIONARY.

ccx.

Even thus, those dreamers, who content with dreams,
Seek not — oh ! Phantom-Deity adored,

Oh ! Happiness ! thou end of countless Schemes,
To strain thee close— enriched with their bright hoard
Of glowing fancies, that have sweetly soared

Boyond this nether World ; even thus may they
Escape, from Disappointment's arrows stored

In Fate's dark quivers, for the heavy day
When those who fondly hope, shall find hope melt away.

CCXI.

When those who fondly hope and keenly seek,

Shall painfully and uselessly repent —
Those dreamers still as from some cloud-capped peak,

Shall look down on Delight and be content !

Not on a vain pursuit, persistent bent, —
Not urged and hurried on a troublous quest,

They lightly on the unstable reed have leant !
Perchance beyond the Worldling's dreams, ev'n blest,
Is the quick heart that thrills, deep in the Enthusiast's

breast.

THE VISIONARY. 159

CCXII.

Of all the wretches on this changeful Earth
I pity most those Sons of chance and doom,

The dull Materialists ! — who in the dearth
Of all exalted feelings — and i' the gloom
Of their own darkened minds, mid all the bloom

And brightness which at times is showered around
Their steps, build up into one massive tomb,

The great Creation's vastness — blind and bound,
Emulous of the worm — aspiring to the ground !

CCXIII.

Those who all bright ennobling hopes resign,

Who nail their soul down to its clog of clay —
Who turn from Revelations, bless'd, divine, —

Enamoured of corruption and decay !

Who spurn each guiding light, each gracious stay —
And their unheavenly God perversely make

Harsh, tyrannous, blind Necessity — oh ! say —
Shall they not yet too fearfully awake,
To see their Soulless God's, material Temple shake !

160 THE VISIONARY.

CCXIV.

If Accidents are burthened with our fates —

And no presiding Power doth rule our doom,
Then mad indeed is he who aggravates

The measure of his ill by thoughtful gloom ;

No ! from the Cradle to the Yawning Tomb,
Which by no Accident we ere escape,

Let us but weave bright threads in our poor loom,
And revel in the course we may not shape,
Man's Gods should then be all, the Poppy and the Grape.

ccxv.

If ye must round Existence with a dream,

Oh ! take a nobler course — a prouder flight —

Let brighter visions on your rapt Souls beam,
Nor pile the shadows of Eternal Night
Around ye ! — are ye then in your own sight

The slaves of arbitrary Elements —

But names and hollow words are Wrong and Right ?

Are Truth and Falsehood then but accidents —
Do Destiny — Life, — Worlds — All — hang on chance-
brought Events?

THE VISIONARY. 161

CCXVI.

Are Heaven and Earth and all the arch wonders dread

And deep, spread forth through broad, unbounded space,
But Accidents ? — cold, aimless, void and dead —

And dare ye say so, in their glorious face ?

Oh ! when we stoop high feelings so to erase
From our immortal souls, we then become

Our own vile Miscreators — weak and base —
The aspiring Spirits Heaven gave us, we entomb
I'the nethermost pit profound, of deep and hopeless

gloom.

CCXVII.
Are our own Judgments Accidents ? and forced

Upon our Minds against our own consent —
Those thoughts we dreamed had with the wild Winds
coursed

On their triumphant way — but Accident ? —

All Chance and blind Necessity ? — repent
Ye Dreamers, cold, and dull and vain, and seek

Your errors to repair — for ye are bent
Beneath a tyrannous yoke in sooth, and weak
To bear it seem— would ye, retrace your footsteps, speak ?

1(52 THE VISIONARY.

CCXVIII.

How in a thousand ways doth man contrive
To abase his Nature, and to enthrall his fate,

Himself of noblest prospects to deprive —

To embrute his feelings and to o'ercloud his state,
Ungladdened by the soaring hopes and great

Which Heaven permitteth him to indulge — alas ! — •
That we in our own proud cause should abate

All zealous ardour, satisfied to amass
Earth's dross and nurse Earth's dreams — while all things
round us pass.

CCXIX.

Delusion on delusion ! for we view
Our towers of trust incontinently fall,

Only to seek to upraise them and renew —
And deem the fault was utterly and all
In the light superstructure — so the thrall

Of a false hope we bear, nor deign to own
The true, real failing — nor consent to call

The weak foundations wrong — again o'erthrown
And oft again shall be, those towers, till all lie prone !

THE VISIONARY. ]63

ccxx.

Perchance at length we may confess too late,

Foundation — superstructure — scite and plan —
Materials — mould and model, wrong — and date

Our sufferings from the time when we began

With boastful Independence, which frail Man
Doth well to avoid — to take our own proud pajth —

With dreams presumptuous, Hope's quick fires to fan,
To build those Citadels of reeds and lath —
While round us then shall frown, the impending storms

of wrath.

CCXXT.
Then may we heavily lament and groan

O'er our poor schemes of policy and pride,
Our dreams, our hopes and our illusions flown —

A dreary desert spread on every side ! —

Then shall sad memories wound the soul — allied
With sharp regrets and self-reproaches deep —

For many a selfish act we then shall chide
Ourselves full harshly — and dejected weep
O'er our own evil deeds — nor shall roused Conscience

sleep.

M2

164 THE VISIONARY.

CCXXII.

'T were well to learn that lesson, best of all

The holy lesson to forgive, and think
How we forgiveness need ! how we should call

For pardon much and oft — but we do wink

At our own faults ! — not only on the brink
Of ruin do we stand for Sins more bold

'Gainst Heaven, and more immediate, but should

drink

Repentance' bitter waters, and enfold
Ourselves in sackcloth too — for sins 'gainst Man untold.

CCXXIII.

Yet we conceive that we can be alone

Oppressed and wronged, and injured and aggrieved,
And full of maudlin self-compassion, groan

To think we are or abandoned, or bereaved !

And — where we placed our foolish trust, deceived —
For how dare we midst creatures weak and frail,

Seek out perfection — as though we believed
The exclusive right was ours to fall and fail —
Fallible to be found — and wanting in the scale !

THE VISIONARY. 165

CCXXIV.

We punish more ourselves too, much, much more,
By nursing that most hideous Passion's brood —

Black, foul Revenge, — within our bosom's core,
Spite — rancour — bitterness, — than the spilt blood
Of our loathed enemies could harm them ! Good

For Evil to return ! law worthiest Heaven !
May that be practised, honoured, understood.

Let each forgive as all would be forgiven,
And multiply and bless, the old seventy times seven !

ccxxv.

Then shall we happier be, and cast a load

From off our souls ! Oh! bright and matchless rule —

Seventy times seven, let us well bestowed
Our pardons freely give — then shall the fool
Learn wisdom from Example's easy school,

The Avenger stay his arm and waive his aim-
Catching the bless'd infection, and a tool

May we become of Providence to shame
The bad to better deeds, the inhuman heart to tame.

166 THE VISIONARY.

CCXXVI.

How few do this ! — how often do we strive
Rather than to cool down our senseless ire

By every studious means, to keep alive
The burning coals of discord — nor desire
That these should sink and languish and expire ;

We magnify each petty slight offence

To injuries and aggressions deep and dire,

And draw a sickly pleasure even from thence,
Fostering in our warped minds — of wrong an o'ervvrought
sense.

CCXXVII.

Upon our mortal journey evermore,

As we all stumbling, staggering, shuffling wend,

Even though Conviction smite us to the core
Still, still we seek our conduct to defend —
In lieu of labouring to improve and mend,

Still the same worthless objects we pursue,

And on the same wrong aims unchanging tend —

Nor strive to exalt, nor clear our mental View —
To adopt a nobler course — pure, upright, virtuous, true.

THE VISIONARY. 167

CCXXVIII.

And still we twist and trim — and forge and feign,
Till dizzied, vexed, perplexed, there comes the hour

When we would willingly retrace — in vain
Our steps — alas ! 't is not then in our power
So long to skim or plod, and skulk or scour

Along vile crooked ways 't was ours, we turn
To these instinctively — and crouch and cower

Along — and vainly, vainly may we yearn
Another track to attempt — and Art's base lore to unlearn !

CCXXIX.

Life — full of errors and mistakes thou art,

And cold Experience comes too late— too late

To shield the suffering soul and arm the heart !
Only to mock our griefs and aggravate
Thou comestmethinks, pale posthumous child of Fate.

Ah ! wherefore come at all if still in vain,
Officious and perverse ? thou that dost wait

To shed thy tardy gleams through breast and brain,
Like corpse-lights o'er the Dead, o'er days and deeds
i' the wane.

168 THE VISIONARY.

ccxxx.

What art thou Life ? with all thy mystic things,

Thine idols, treasures, pageants, spells, delights—
Thy clouds and rainbows — and thy rocks and springs,

Thy soft Elysian breezes and stern blights ?

What art thou ? with thy smile that still invites —
Beguiles us still to meet the withering check

Of thy cold frown's repulse — when the soul bites
The bitter dust of its own clay ! a wreck,
A ruin, and thy skies lend, not one faint luminous speck !

CCXXXI.

At times I have felt as though Life's slackened strings
Were all unwound, while its clogged wheels stood
still,—

While folded were swift Thought's careering wings,
It was not with, nor yet against my will,
But there I stood resigned, — nor good nor ill,

Nor chance nor change affected me — a pause
Came o'er Existence — nor did ache nor thrill

This restless Soul that hovered in the jaws
Of cold Obstruction then — nor sought the effect's veiled
cause !

THE VISIONARY. 169

CCXXXII.

Besides the common sorrows that we share,
Mysterious, shadowy griefs the Soul oppress,

We may not sift them, nor dissect them there —
Nor of their birth nor origin can guess —
Veiled in the secret bosom's sealed recess,

But we become against our will their prey,
And bend us to a dreamy, vain Distress —

Still plodding on, our dull and beaten way —
And bearing the cold cares, and griefs of every day.

CCXXXIII.

But if mysterious sorrows we endure —

Profound unearthly raptures thrill us too —

Etherial — fervent — beatific — pure —
For ever welcome and for ever new,
And both proclaim the Soul is journeying through

An alien Country — a far foreign Land —

Where endless ills and miseries must pursue —

While still the glorious Traveller 's oft-times fanned
By mighty Airs from Home — now keen, — now heavenly
bland.

170 THE VISIONARY.

CCXXXIV.

Yea ! verily we are mystically made —

How many a link and vein, and tint and tone —

How many a delicate trace and transient shade
Of thought and feeling do we wondering own,
Whose ends and sources are alike unknown;

Not to this World seem they to appertain,

Like precious seeds within our deep Souls sown.

Subject awhile to dull Corruption's stain, —
Till in Existence new — Mind bursts its wintry chain.

ccxxxv.

Ere broken to the World's monotonous yoke,
What petty things can shake us and surprise,

A light touch then can like a thunderstroke
Come down upon the Soul — which vainly tries
To keep its own proud flight — around it rise

A thousand threatening forms — too sensitive
Neglect, Unkindness wound it, till faint dies

Its passionate hope, beneath the shocks they give,
And that once lost, no more 'gainst pitiless Fate 't will
strive !

THE VISIONARY. 171

CCXXXVI.

Fatal Discouragement ! none, none may know

What noble faculties thou hast sunk and crushed;
The minds most rarely finely strung below,

O'er which Heaven's brightest colours loveliest
blush'd,

Have felt thee haply deepest — they that rushed
All fire, all feeling, onward to the goal ! —

Chatter ton ! Bird of Paradise ! — how gushed
Thy heart's blood forth ! Oh ! Amaranth of the Soul,
Rare Star of Life ! when thou receivedst its bitter dole.

CCXXXVII.

And thou too, Keats ! whose quick and glowing mind
Wrapt itself in a shroud of lucid words,

Who left the grosser, colder Earth. behind,

And with seraphic touch thrilled tenderest chords —
How did Discouragement of thy bright hoards

Of fancy thee defraud — and to the core

Of thine Existence strike — since most it lords

O'er such as thee — who gaze and who adore, —
Who well know how to admire — a bright but fatal lore.

172 THE VISIONARY.

CCXXXVIII.

He — from whose lips most precious words distilled,
Which fragrance, light, love, music sweetly shed —

He led the heart and spirit as he willed,
And with ambrosia every thought he fed —
Even from the chilly Empire of the Dead,

His themes come full of life and heat and power,
Those words like fabled Love's own arrows sped,

Thrill through our Souls and o'er them softly shower
A heavenly light of bliss — through many a raptured hour !

CCXXXIX.

A thousand blessings he to those hath left,

Whose cold curse checked his being's mighty springs,

While of each rich expectancy bereft,

He sunk to the earth despite his glorious wings
Which should have raised him far o'er ground-born
things !

A thousand blessings he hath left to those

Who wrought his wretchedness, hark ! hark ! he sings,

He charms away our sufferings and our woes —
With Life — alone with Life — were his ordained to close.

THE VISIONARY. J73

CCXL.

And thus the gifts which Nature made his own

Enrich us, but impoverished him indeed —
By them was he betrayed, by them undone,

Through them his bosom was constrained to bleed —

Through them his fall was compassed, 't was decreed
That his sweet lyre should be his flower-wreathed rack,

His magic sceptre prove a faithless reed,
His golden weapons on himself flung back,
Should crush him down to the Earth — while all grew

chill and black.

CCXLI.
How many that sorrow o'er thy hapless fate,

That feel themselves, sweet Bard ! those fires divine,
Whose minds are charged with a refulgent freight

Of sun-bright, Heaven-born phantasies — shall twine

Their Hopes with other states of being — thine
Remembering in their wreck and in their blight —

Nor seek in life's vain narrow lists to shine,
Veiling their treasures from the scorner's sight,
And soothing their checked souls, by many a far, stolen

flight.

174 THE VISIONARY.

CCXLII.

Ah me ! methinks that many on this dull Earth

The highest of the high — it well may be,
Are hidden to the charnel from the birth

Haply in a profound Humility;

Haply because their Nature fine and free,
Yet quick and warm, and meekly soft and deep,

Keeps them, midst Earth's uproarious grief and glee
From apposite demonstration — so they reap
Silently Peace' sweet Fruits, till they in silence sleep.

CCXLIII.

Who would be this World's favourites must consent
To have no will, no feelings of their own,

But to its will, to be conformed and bent —
To hang upon its chariot wheels — be blown
By its vile breath to any shape, then shown

Belike as the object of its sport! its smile
Must be their vitals' vitals, and its frown

Their doom, their terror, their perdition, while
Even at its bidding they, must curb their minds and file.

THE VISIONARY. 175

CCXLIV.

True, some have made its honours all their own,

The while those honours they even seemed to slight —

Born as 't were on their Earth-o'ergazing Throne —
Receiving its deep homage as their right,
But they had not to climb the difficult height

Of steep Ambition, step by step — and hold
By every vile weed — in their dubious plight

That fringed their path, half-bedded in the mould —
Lest that their foot should fail — and they sink, down-
wards rolled.

CCXLV.

Yet hath it truly been so ? we hear now
Eternal honour coupled with their name,

But while they deigned not to accede — nor bow
To this World's arrogant dictates, nor could tame
Their Spirits to its level — wrong and blame

Pursued them — be ye sure ; ere bright Success
And haply posthumous and tardy Fame

Gave them to Glory ! — How dost thou suppress
Oh World ! the expanding Soul — and make its triumphs
less.

176 THE VISIONARY.

CCXLVI.

Ivy oft wraps the tree which it hath killed

With falsest semblance, and like that same tree,
Or Oak or Elm appear— too subtly skilled

To weave itself round every branch and be

Its mimic — parasite, — and as we see
Its traitorous murderer too, but thus afar

The eye deceived, may well deem fair and free,
Rises the original tree, which stripp'd and bare
Might envy the scathed trunk— Seamed with Heaven's

thunder scar !

CCXLVII.

Its own proud foliage 'tis constrained to doff —
And o'er its own dire ruin smile and shine ;

To crush and drain its strength was not enough,
In vilest mockery must that Ivy twine
Around its Victim — in its faint decline

To treachery adding insult, and cold scorn,
To harsh oppression ! — Say, could you divine,

The Forest's lofty child was thus forlorn,
Gazing on its veiled frame ?~of strength, life, beauty, shorn ?

THE VISIONARY: 177

CCXLVIII.

Could you behold the branches so despoiled,
Those funeral-garlands could you but displace

That closely round in serpent-folds are coiled
With fell luxuriance and with deadly grace,
Then should you mournfully and clearly trace

The havoc and the devastation wrought

By that false foe within whose death-embrace —

Within whose toils inextricably caught,
Piecemeal to perish slow, the unhappy tree is taught.

CCXLIX.

Doth not the world with all its Arts do so,
Withering Existence to the very roots —

Deceiving by a vain factitious show —

Hindering the natural growth of healthful shoots
And blossomy promise fair — while it pollutes

And ruins its poor Victim — and yet more

Loading each blasted bough with Dead-Sea fruits —

(Bloom at the face, corruption at the core) —
Of Vanity, vile, weak, and worthless evermore.

N

178 THE VISIONARY.

CCL.

To unlock another's secret soul would be

For us a priceless lesson — for we look
Too superficially on all we see,

Nor ope the deepest pages of the book !

Not only could we bare by powerful stroke
Of magic the true depths of mighty hearts,

But could we search each close and curtained nook
Of humblest breasts, 't would teach us more than arts
Or sciences can teach— to act more rational parts !

CCLI.

'T would shew us how vile littlenesses creep

O'er pure and generous feelings, and 't would shew
How the overboiling passion-fountains steep

The mind in trouble and in gloom below;

Oh ! we should see how much of bitterest woe
Man brings upon himself! — yet though ne'er shewn

With all their secrets and strange mysteries, so
Can others breasts be — one, one may be known
Which we neglect to unmask — and scorn to sound — our

Own!

[END OF CANTO n.]

TO THE SEA.

Music is living in thy breast — in thy deep and awful
breast.

Oh ! thou astounding Sea and dread — in thy restlessness
and rest —

Now 't is a murmur — now a roar — now a murmur and a
roar,

While heaves and quakes and thrills and groans the ever-
echoing shore ;

What harmony in every change is found, proud Main !
in thee,

What music hangs on thy deep lips — oh ! sounding- —
sounding Sea !

N2

180 THE SEA-

Splendour is on thy glorious face ! thou most transcen-

dant Main !
Whether the Sun there doubly lives, — or shines Night's

starry train —
'Tis now a sparkle — now a blaze — now a blaze and

sparkle too —
Till thou look'st all made of golden fire — yet tinged with

the sapphire's blue —
What splendours still are found in thee, with every change

to agree —
What glory and what sovereignty — oh ! Royal, Royal

Sea!

EPITAPH.

Lie lightly, Earth ! on the most blameless breast

That ever was consigned to Thee — and Rest.

Lie lightly on the dear unconscious dust

Which to thy chill embraces we entrust,

For though we know the Soul that once could warm

The poor decaying and forsaken form

Yet lives — and ever shall remain the same,

Still Feeling lingers round the once-loved Frame !

181

EPITAPH.

Unboastful Goodness— unaffected Worth
Lie hid beneath this little mound of Earth.
Stranger ! one moment pause upon thy way,
If these can claim thy sympathy, or stay —
Yet no — 't is false — this lowly stone beneath
Lie nought but ashes, dust, decay, and death,
That Worth — that Goodness — which can never die,
Dwell with their Great Creator in the Sky !

EPITAPH.

If on this unadorned memorial-stone
But half her goodness who from us is flown
Could be with truth and vivid force expressed —
Since truth were here the brightest praise and best,
'Twould make thee, pious stranger, fondly grieve
O'er such bless' d Virtues doomed this Earth to leave-
And yet 't would gladden thee to think how high
These must promote her in yon glorious sky.

182

EPITAPH.

In ripened age and ripened Virtues too,

We saw thee sink into thine honoured grave,

While our dimmed eyes were filled with tearful dew
Because we might not succour thee nor save.

Thou ever good, and kind, and pure and true ! —
Yet better— purer — Ah ! and happier now —

Forgive that we thy grave with cypress strew,

While Angels crown with deathless palms thy brow !

183

SONNET.
I.

Perchance we all in something strive to excel — -

How oft in miserable vanities !

Yet still to reach the goal, to snatch the prize
Our Souls arc bent — and we for ever dwell
(Constrained as 'twere by some dim mystic spell,)

In artificial atmosphere — we rise

To build our tottering Babels to the skies —
Which one breath can demolish — can dispel —

And as we see them shaken, bowed, and crushed,
We groan in anguish — yet with deeper will,

Rush to our fate — as we before had rushed,
And court the consequence of deeper 111! —

Oh ! that our throbbing hearts could but be hushed,
Or that we thus might strive our duties to fulfil !

184

SONG.

Gentlest Deluder ! Hope ! false as fair,
Leave me, ah ! leave me to sorrow and care, —
Gentlest Destroyer, spread, spread thy light wings,
I dread thy soft touch more than Grief's sharpest stings.

Oh ! I have known thee — have known thee too well,
More than these tears, or this wan cheek can tell ;
Bright is thy smile — but 't is fatal as fair,
False, false and fatal — spare me — oh ! spare !

Fly from me ! — fly from me ! swiftly and soon,
Fly — for I ask not thy dear, dangerous boon ;
Well would I deem it couldst thou and I part,
Though frozen should thus be this fond fervent heart.

Gentlest Deluder ! — Hope ! false as fair,

Leave me, haste ! leave me, to gloom, or despair !

Gentlest Destroyer ! I bid thee — away

Many will hail thee — One — one dreads thy sway !

SONNET.
II.

Upon thy hills oh Spain, War's beacon gleams,
Battle's shrill Clarion startles thy soft air —
Spears glance and banners float ! the sight is fair,

The sound is noble, by thy rolling streams —

And brings to mind a thousand glorious dreams,
But say, doth murder — heinous murder there
Her blood-stained arm with barbarous triumph bare ?

What mean those groans, those yells, those echoing

screams ?
Alas ! the Brave, the Gallant, and the Bold,

Must they escaping the honourable death

Upon the well-fought field — slow, slow and cold,

Have judgment dealt on them ? — the laurel wreath
Shall wither on their brows, who thus have tolled

High Chivalrous Feeling's knell, on Battle's sanguined
heath !

18f>

SONNET.
III.

Ye that now wake th' old echoes that do dwell

Deep 'mid Spain's ancient Hills — with clang and shout
And all War's terrible sounds, what ye are about

Have ye bethought ye solemnly and well ?

Beware — lest Discord's torch, the fierce and fell,

Once kindled, scarce should for long years burn out ! —
And the Land shake beneath War's din and rout,

As she were governed by some fatal spell —

Through the unborn times ! Aye ! lest ye should transmit
Unto your Children's Children for an age

(While that dire torch is fostered — fanned, relit)
A stern and most unhappy Heritage

Of feuds and of division — in the pit

Of fierce Contention fall'n— deep— deep— say, are ye
sage ?

187

SONNET.
IV.

Turn, turn to Spain — oh England ! turn to her —
List to her cry of anguish and distress —
Oh ! haste her griefs, her miseries to redress.

Maddened she is with the dire din and stir,

The rage and wrath of War — there be who spur
Her energies 'gainst herself — while she doth press
On towards black Ruin's brink ! till none may guess

What doom remains for her ! — no more defer —

The arm of pitiless Murder there arrest —

The fierce flagitious slaughterings there forbid —

The heroic chivalrous Land ! — how heaves her breast
With sorrow — let the unnatural foes be chid,

Foul butchering their brave captives ! be suppressed
The Infernal strife — oh, Heaven ! for one hour of the
Cid!

188

SONNET.
V.

Spain ! Spain ! for one brave Spirit like the Cid,

What gallant Armies at his call should wake —

Towards Fame and Freedom the true path to take !
He who 'mongst all the Heroic deeds he did,
His Country's echoing hills and plains amid —

Abhorred Dissension, for Dissension's sake ;

Who, if his Foes even sought, embroiled, to slake
Their fiery thirst in kindred blood— straight chid
The unrighteous War with voice and puissant hand ! *

And harmony and peace 'mongst those restored !
Oh ! how would he, — or such as he, withstand

These hideous conflicts, and with hallowed sword
Beat down the infuriate — and thrice-desperate brand

Turned 'gainst a brother's breast — at one rash, factious
word !

* Le Cid surtout, le fameux Cid « » « * , faisant triomplier les Chretiens,
combattantmeme pour les Mauresquand les Maures sedechiraient entre eux,
et portant toujours la Victoire dans le parti qu'il daignait choisir, &c. &c.
Gonxalve de Cordoue. Tom. I. p. 71.

189

SONNET.
VI.

Spaniards ! ere your brave sires arose to thrust

Th' old Moors from their bright shores, who o'er them
swayed

With a magnificent tyranny — ere brayed
Their trumpet's loud defiance — ere the rust
Fell from their idle swords, and the icy crust

Of Slavery from their souls — checked — wronged —
betrayed,

Less need was there of championship and aid
Than now — worse this suspicion — this distrust —
These black home-hatreds — this disunion drear —

While in each breast harsh grudging spites lie hid —
No mutual cause to aid, consecrate — and cheer — .

Oh ! if the armed Stranger stalked your fields amid —
The Hostilities a nobler front should wear —

The Cause — the Cause might then unshroud your
buried Cid !

190

SONNET.
VII.

Spain — the romantic, chivalrous, renown'd,

What dread and desperate doings now disgrace

Thy name ! — haste, haste from thence the stain to efface

In this foul strife, lo ! how are ties unbound,

While friend 'gainst friend battling in wrath is found,

While brother holds his brother in embrace

Of hate and death, and armed sons in their place

Rise up 'gainst their grey sires, — such miseries wound
The Land, where Civil War's atrocious torch
Glares with its baleful horrors ! — stained with gore

The peasant's threshold-stone is, and wreathed porch,
And kinsmen's heart -blood blackens all his floor,

And how doth Battle's tri-forked lightning scorch
Thy plains which late such smiling beauty wore !

191

SONNET.
I.

TO THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON.
NOVEMBER, 1834.

Thine is a glorious and a righteous aim,

Great Patriot !— and may certain good ensue.

Firm, loyal, brave, and temperate and true —
Thou favourite Son of Fortune and of Fame —
Honours crowd thick upon thy soaring name,

That name which Victory through her loud trump blew

What time on War's red field thy banner flew,
Foremost and highest, like a rushing flame !
But now that name a Nation's grateful heart

Doth consecrate in reverence, speechless — still !
While thy mind's lightnings through the darkness dart

Of these vexed times — the trouble and the ill,
The cloud, the fear, the heaviness shall depart,

And thine the praise shall be, strong, strong in swerveless
will!

192

SONNET.
II.

TO THE SAME.

1834.

Oh thou ! now called to that momentous post,
Where England's helm 's committed to thy hand,
Gird thee to do thy Duty by the Land !

Restore the Peace, Fame, Honour she hath lost,

Heed not the cry of Faction's evil host,

Their vile flagitious threats with scorn withstand,
Make her once more the Glorious and the Grand —

Earth's happiest Sanctuary and proudest Boast !

On her own true, real, lasting Good intent,
Brunt thou the hate of her base ambushed foes,

Serve her, and save her 'gainst her own consent !
Deliver her from dark and desperate woes,

Heal, heal her wounds — oh ! bind each yawning rent

And bid the opening chasm of fierce Destruction close.

193

SONNET.
III.

TO THE SAME.
1834.

High is thy calling as thy conduct high !

Oh thou ! for aye and evermore renowned —

Thy forehead all with wreaths of Victory bound
Spreads its own light along our shadowed sky —
Proud name of Patriot ! — fires that must not die,

A zeal, a strength, a trust too seldom found,

A loftiness that cannot touch the ground,
A bright and never-slackening Energy —
These, these must nobly constitute his claim

Who would aspire with clear Ambition just
To thee, oh ! happy, high and holy name !

And who doth all things base and little thrust
Away— and toil with so sublime an aim

As thou — best Bulwark of an Empire's trust !

194

SONNET.
IV.

TO THE SAME.
1834.

I' the breach thou stand'st in daring high and proud,
Mark of all Arrows — with their treacherous aim,
Thou — that hast done such deeds as gild thy name

Beyond all increase ! — but the unworthy crowd

Too oft forget their debts, and clamour loud
Their loose condemnings — their light, reckless blame—
Thou ! — that hast done deeds that had given to Fame

An hundred thousand names ! thou hast not allowed
That plea unto thyself to turn away

From difficulties which but seem the more
To fan the fires — that never should decay,

In thy high breast of virtuous zeal — i' the core
Of thy heart's strength ! and still from day to day

To urge thee more to oppose, those waves that know
no shore !

195

SONNET.
V.

TO THE SAME.
1834.

Great Leader ! thou who, as the wide world knows,
Preserved our England in the troublous Past —
(What time rang loud the Red Destroyer's blast) —

From threatening, hating, fierce and fiery foes,

And gave her unto Peace and bright repose,
While before thee, those foes cowered down aghast,
Complete thy task, the glorious and the vast —

Though heavier, and more complex still it grows !

She tottereth — Oh ! prevent her from the fall —
Strengthen — uphold her, fix her firm and fast.

To thee we turn — on thee, on thee we call :
Thou that deliveredst her from scathe and waste —

Render the noblest service now of all —
Save her— Oh ! save her from Herself at last !
o 2

196

SONNET.
VI.

TO THE SAME.
1834.

How shall we honour thee enough — Oh ! thou
On whom Fame hath no new Wreaths to bestow —
Who hath reaped such thick thick laurels, that below

No leaf remains for thee to cull — whose brow

Is blazoned by a deathless palmy bough,
And crowned with Victory's crown — and yet not so
Art thou Content ! but with a Patriot's glow

Of bright and fervid zeal, dost thou avow
Thyself the foremost in the ranks of those

Who labour for their Country's Weal, her true
And generous Liegeman ! — that doth scorn repose

With loftiest discontent, while to toil through
Steep Action's paths, can one bright hope disclose

Of good, which may to others thence accrue !

197

SONNET.
VII.

TO THE SAME.
1834.

Now be thine Aim — Attainment ! and thy Will

Accomplishment ! — for those — those base

Those wretched traitors, who would seek to efface
The high memory of thy deeds, which ought to thrill
Through every bosom — let them utter still

Their venomed words — Since 'tis in their own face

They shall recoil ! — And not the slightest trace

Cling to thy starry name ; Oh, thou ! whose skill,

Whose towering Genius rescued them, and all

Of England's Children, from the threatened doom —

The oppressor's scourge and brand, and badge and thrall-
Can these thy Glory — or thy Good o'ercome ?

No ! let them go ! 'tis pity from the fall
Thy hand prevented them — who are made for Slavery's
gloom !

198

SONNET.
VIII.

TO THE SAME.
1834.

Now may the Chariot of thy lofty Fate

Roll upon Fortune's proudest wheels — and now
May a far nobler laurel crest thy brow

Than Victory's. — Hour of thrice auspicious date,

That sees thee placed in steerage of the State !
Let Faction veil her pride — let Treason bow,
Let Discontent her petty drifts avow ;

Now let our Land exult and be elate,

Thou — thou whose mention seems like Victory's cry
The Nation's helm hath ta'en — though to resign,

Still much may be atchieved while these hours fly
On their deep-freighted pinions — now doth shine

Hope's heavenly crescent through our brightening sky-
Joy for one hour of such a Mind as thine !

199

SONNET.
IX.

TO THE SAMK.
1834.

Now gird thee to a loftier Occupation far

Than is the Earth-shaking Warrior's ! though he be
A thunder-bearing Conqueror even like thee !

For in the heart of this Land's peace is War,

More deadly than the ensanguined field's ! thy car,
Thy scytheless car, oh ! mount, and through the free
Pathways of Action proud — and o'er the sea

Of dread Events— that winged throne steer, though star

Nor compass may afford thee aid — and low
Beneath thy feet the embryo Mischiefs cast —

And to our gladdened eyes triumphant show
What Human Nature may be made when fast

It clings through tumult, and distress, and woe,
To Virtue's anchor 'midst the billowy waste.

200

SONNET.
X.

TO THE SAME.
1834.

First, Noblest of this world's crowned men of Might !

Who hath spared more blood than Asia's Conqueror
spilt —

Chief — Statesman — Counsellor — Patriot — what thou

wilt—

For all of Good and Great thou towerest in sight
Of the Earth's thronged millions ! can the envenomed
spite

Of grovelling Caitiffs, urge them to the guilt

Of loading thee, whose stainless Fame is built
On sure foundations — Champion of the Right !

With their abhorred black calumnies — the while
Thou labourest but to serve, and bless and aid

Thy foul Detractors — but can these defile —
These dim that Fame ?— No ! could they— well repaid

Wert thou by Heavenly Justice' guerdoning smile
That will not fail thee— and that cannot fade !

201

SONNET.
XL

TO THE SAME.

1834.

Confusion seize upon their Counsels — those —
That would confusion to thy Counsels bring !
Let Faction turn upon herself her Sting,

And their own toils environ thy fierce foes.

Shall this be the Beginning or the Close ?
Shall Justice, Truth, Faith, Honour, Virtue, spring
Once more to life — or shall black Discord wring

The Land to agony — and bar repose ?
Perish the Lovers of Contentious strife !

That would destroy^these Realms of prosperous Pride ;
Who — knowing their own worthlessness — their life

Devote to making worthless all beside ! —
They shall not stab with an Assassin's knife

Our Country to the heart, while thou'rt her Guard and
Guide.

202

SONNET.
XII.

TO THE SAME.
1834.

Should we forget thy deeds of Glory ? — No !

We should not, must not, cannot so forget —

Foul Shame 'twere, ere the living Sun hath set ! —
But some remembering still what they do owe,
The worst of Ingrates — basely seek to o'erthrow

Their Glorious Benefactor ! — Yet, oh ! — yet

Some, some there are, who nobly chafe and fret
Beneath their load of Obligations, though
They dream not, hope not to discharge the whole

Of that most infinite, and onerous Debt !
Still evermore o'erflow their lips and Soul

With deep acknowledgments — to him who met
For them, War's horrent front — who made his Goal

Their England's Ark of Peace — unchecked by frown
or threat !

203

SONNET.
XIII.

TO THE SAME.
1834.

Wisdom's clear eye, to observe and to apprehend,
And loftiest Courage to confront and dare-
Judgment to plan and execute with care —

And Patriotism its holiest fires to lend —

Are thine, Great Chief ! and thine it is to rend
Self from thy thoughts — nor even to wish to share
The brilliant honours which the field may bear —

The field of Action! — England's truest friend

As thou hast been her best safeguard — Lo ! thy name
Is as a Tower of Strength and of Defence —

Fortune smiles, linked to thine Auspicious Fame ! —
Thy Presence — Power seems, and Pre-eminence —

Thy very Life — a bright additional claim

This Land hath on the Grace of Heaven's j ust Provi-
dence !

204

SONNET.
XIV.

TO THE SAME.
1834.

A heavy charge it is ! a charge whose weight

Might crush a lesser mind into the dust —

A heavy charge it shall be and it must
In these momentous hours of gloomiest date.
Oh ! thou who nor dejected nor elate,

Steeled with sublime resolve, the place of trust

Fill'st for a while — thou Sage and Brave and Just,
Thou Good — and how magnanimously Great !
Who dictated by thine own generous heart,

No thought of self through these strong hours could'st

own —
Guardian — Deliverer — as thou wert and art —

Why on such troublous times hast thou been thrown,
Except to shew how proud and bright a part

Man, feeble Man may act~— whom Virtue prompts —
alone !

205

SONNET.
XV.

TO THE SAME.
1834.

Now, Curtius-like, thou hast leapt — calm, fearless, lone
Into the Gulph, and that dread Gnlph shall close,
But not on thee — the troubles and the woes

Surely shall find their end ! — Thou that hast won

The orbed Crowns of burning Victory — whose star shone
High in the Ascendant— above his who chose
This Realm or that, and straightway did depose

Their rightful Lords and seized^ for his own.

Oh ! thou the Greatest of Earth's Warrior Lords,
Thou, thou hast leapt into that Gulph of Gloom ! —

And hark ! the wind seems charged with prophet-words —
" Ye shall be saved from the dark threatened doom !"

Let the Envious, the Ingrate sheathe their tongue's

sharp swords —
May Concord now her sweet Sway re -assume !

•20G

SONNET.
XVI.

TO THE SAME.
1834.

Out upon black Ingratitude ! — most true,
It cannot harm thee — cannot rob thy name
Of one bright ray of Glory, or of Fame ;

No ! those who strive to o'erthrow, and to undo,

Those who for thee, in their foul malice brew
Their deadly potions, they shall rue the same,
In vain remorse and keenly stinging shame,

Bitterly and most miserably shall rue !

And thou uninjured shalt in pride of place,
Continue glorious as thou wert before ;

Nay ! with bright Indignation we shall trace
And grave thy Glories on our hearts the more !

Out upon man's Ingratitude ! — the base,
The accursed sin — Oh ! shun it and abhor !

•207

SONNET.

These are portentous days ! deep, awful days,

And men must gird their Souls to do and dare,

And meekly breathe to Heaven the imploring prayer,
For aid and for defence. Dread thorny ways
Have we to tread — and many a wildering maze

To thread and pierce — but hence ! avaunt — Despair,

Avaunt ignoble Fear — and sordid Care.
Now let the good, the wise, shun all delays,
Prepared for Sufferance — or Resistance ! Why,

Clouds dark as th^se have lowered round — let them go !
Those good, those just, those brave — can they deny

Their lofty natures — and turn, cowards — no !
Free, bold, and true — their trust is in the Sky,

And if it comes they will endure their woe.

208

SONNET.

Hands strong and pure — hands mighty or to launch

The thunder-bolt, or with a gentler art

To bind the Land's now almost broken heart,
The Land's long bleeding yawning wounds to staunch,
These are required ! Oh ! that the Olive-branch

May wave around her brows, that now may start

In lovely Resurrection — even as dart
Stars from night's heavens — with silvery sheen to blanch
The Shadowy Arch — Hope, Concord, Peace, and Faith !

May she, who subjugated Realms of old,
Then lead them — breathing Peace^ celestial breath !

By her example — so the master-mould
Of Nature's hand shall she remain ! yet saith —

Winged Hope, more bright, more bright, shall we her
face behold !

1

A 000 024 309