Poems in Two Volumes Volume I Part 8

Fair Star of Evening, Splendor of the West, Star of my Country! on the horizon's brink Thou hangest, stooping, as might seem, to sink On England's bosom; yet well pleas'd to rest, Meanwhile, and be to her a glorious crest Conspicuous to the Nations. Thou, I think, Should'st be my Country's emblem; and should'st wink, Bright Star! with laughter on her banners, drest In thy fresh beauty. There! that dusky spot Beneath thee, it is England; there it lies.

Blessings be on you both! one hope, one lot, One life, one glory! I, with many a fear For my dear Country, many heartfelt sighs, Among Men who do not love her linger here.

2. _CALAIS_, August, 1802.

Is it a Reed that's shaken by the wind, Or what is it that ye go forth to see?

Lords, Lawyers, Statesmen, Squires of low degree, Men known, and men unknown, Sick, Lame, and Blind, Post forward all, like Creatures of one kind, With first-fruit offerings crowd to bend the knee In France, before the new-born Majesty.

'Tis ever thus. Ye Men of prostrate mind!

A seemly reverence may be paid to power; But that's a loyal virtue, never sown In haste, nor springing with a transient shower: When truth, when sense, when liberty were flown What hards.h.i.+p had it been to wait an hour?

Shame on you, feeble Heads, to slavery p.r.o.ne!

3. TO A FRIEND, COMPOSED NEAR CALAIS, On the Road leading to Ardres, August 7th, 1802.

Jones! when from Calais southward you and I Travell'd on foot together; then this Way, Which I am pacing now, was like the May With festivals of new-born Liberty: A homeless sound of joy was in the Sky; The antiquated Earth, as one might say, Beat like the heart of Man: songs, garlands, play, Banners, and happy faces, far and nigh!

And now, sole register that these things were, Two solitary greetings have I heard, "_Good morrow, Citizen_!" a hollow word, As if a dead Man spake it! Yet despair I feel not: happy am I as a Bird: Fair seasons yet will come, and hopes as fair.

4.

I griev'd for Buonaparte, with a vain And an unthinking grief! the vital blood Of that Man's mind what can it be? What food Fed his first hopes? What knowledge could He gain?

'Tis not in battles that from youth we train The Governor who must be wise and good, And temper with the sternness of the brain Thoughts motherly, and meek as womanhood.

Wisdom doth live with children round her knees: Books, leisure, perfect freedom, and the talk Man holds with week-day man in the hourly walk Of the mind's business: these are the degrees By which true Sway doth mount; this is the stalk True Power doth grow on; and her rights are these.

5. _CALAIS_.

August 15th, 1802.

Festivals have I seen that were not names: This is young Buonaparte's natal day; And his is henceforth an established sway, Consul for life. With wors.h.i.+p France proclaims Her approbation, and with pomps and games.

Heaven grant that other Cities may be gay!

Calais is not: and I have bent my way To the Sea-coast, noting that each man frames His business as he likes. Another time That was, when I was here long years ago: The senselessness of joy was then sublime!

Happy is he, who, caring not for Pope, Consul, or King, can sound himself to know The destiny of Man, and live in hope.

6. ON THE EXTINCTION OF THE _VENETIAN REPUBLIC_.

Once did She hold the gorgeous East in fee; And was the safeguard of the West: the worth Of Venice did not fall below her birth, Venice, the eldest Child of Liberty.

She was a Maiden City, bright and free; No guile seduced, no force could violate; And when She took unto herself a Mate She must espouse the everlasting Sea.

And what if she had seen those glories fade, Those t.i.tles vanish, and that strength decay, Yet shall some tribute of regret be paid When her long life hath reach'd its final day: Men are we, and must grieve when even the Shade Of that which once was great is pa.s.s'd away.

7. _THE KING OF SWEDEN_.

The Voice of Song from distant lands shall call To that great King; shall hail the crowned Youth Who, taking counsel of unbending Truth, By one example hath set forth to all How they with dignity may stand; or fall, If fall they must. Now, whither doth it tend?

And what to him and his shall be the end?

That thought is one which neither can appal Nor chear him; for the ill.u.s.trious Swede hath done The thing which ought to be: He stands _above_ All consequences: work he hath begun Of fort.i.tude, and piety, and love, Which all his glorious Ancestors approve: The Heroes bless him, him their rightful Son.

8. _TO TOUSSAINT L'OUVERTURE_.

Toussaint, the most unhappy Man of Men!

Whether the rural Milk-maid by her Cow Sing in thy hearing, or thou liest now Alone in some deep dungeon's earless den, O miserable chieftain! where and when Wilt thou find patience? Yet die not; do thou Wear rather in thy bonds a chearful brow: Though fallen Thyself, never to rise again, Live, and take comfort. Thou hast left behind Powers that will work for thee; air, earth, and skies; There's not a breathing of the common wind That will forget thee; thou hast great allies; Thy friends are exultations, agonies, And love, and Man's unconquerable mind.

9.

September 1st, 1802.

We had a fellow-Pa.s.senger who came From Calais with us, gaudy in array, A Negro Woman like a Lady gay, Yet silent as a woman fearing blame; Dejected, meek, yea pitiably tame, She sate, from notice turning not away, But on our proffer'd kindness still did lay A weight of languid speech, or at the same Was silent, motionless in eyes and face.

She was a Negro Woman driv'n from France, Rejected like all others of that race, Not one of whom may now find footing there; This the poor Out-cast did to us declare, Nor murmur'd at the unfeeling Ordinance.

10. COMPOSED IN THE _VALLEY, near DOVER_, On the Day of landing.

Dear fellow Traveller! here we are once more.

The c.o.c.k that crows, the Smoke that curls, that sound Of Bells, those Boys that in yon meadow-ground In white sleev'd s.h.i.+rts are playing by the score, And even this little River's gentle roar, All, all are English. Oft have I look'd round With joy in Kent's green vales; but never found Myself so satisfied in heart before.

Europe is yet in Bonds; but let that pa.s.s, Thought for another moment. Thou art free My Country! and 'tis joy enough and pride For one hour's perfect bliss, to tread the gra.s.s Of England once again, and hear and see, With such a dear Companion at my side.

11.

September, 1802.

Inland, within a hollow Vale, I stood, And saw, while sea was calm and air was clear, The Coast of France, the Coast of France how near!

Drawn almost into frightful neighbourhood.

I shrunk, for verily the barrier flood Was like a Lake, or River bright and fair, A span of waters; yet what power is there!

What mightiness for evil and for good!

Even so doth G.o.d protect us if we be Virtuous and wise: Winds blow, and Waters roll, Strength to the brave, and Power, and Deity, Yet in themselves are nothing! One decree Spake laws to _them_, and said that by the Soul Only the Nations shall be great and free.