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FRIEND! I know not which way I must look
For comfort, being, as I am, opprest
In the open sunshine, or we are unblest;
The wealthiest man among us is the best:
This is idolatry; and these we adore:
The homely beauty of the good old cause
'HE world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers:
The winds that will be howling at all hours
And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers,
A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
i Dated London, 1802.
THE LOST LEADER
UST for a handful of silver he left us,
Found the one gift of which fortune bereft us,
Lost all the others she lets us devote;
So much was theirs who so little allowed:
Rags—were they purple, his heart had been proud!
Lived in his mild and magnificent eye,
Made him our pattern to live and to die!
Burns, Shelley, were with us,they watch from their graves! He alone breaks from the van and the freemen,
He alone sinks to the rear and the slaves!
We shall march prospering,—not thro' his presence;
Songs may inspirit us,-not from his lyre;
Still bidding crouch whom the rest bade aspire:
One task more declined, one more footpath untrod, One more devils'-triumph and sorrow for angels,
One wrong more to man, one more insult to God! Life's night begins: let him never come back to us!
There would be doubt, hesitation, and pain, Forced praise on our part—the glimmer of twilight,
Never glad confident morning again!
Best fight on well, for we taught him,-strike gallantly,
Menace our heart ere we master his own;
HOME-THOUGHTS, FROM THE SEA
TOBLY, nobly Cape Saint Vincent to the Northwest died
away; Sunset ran, one glorious blood-red, reeking into Cadiz Bay; Bluish mid the burning water, full in face Trafalgar lay; In the dimmest Northeast distance, dawned Gibraltar grand
"Here and here did England help me: 1 how can I help Eng
land?”-say, Whoso turns as I, this evening, turn to God to praise and pray, While Jove's planet rises yonder, silent over Africa.
SONG OF A GREEK POET
(GREECE BEING STILL UNDER TURKISH DOMINATION)
HE isles of Greece, the isles of Greece!
Where burning Sappho loved and sung,-
Where Delos rose, and Phæbus sprung!
i The Battle of Trafalgar, won by the British feet under Lord Nelson, secured England against invasion by Napoleon. The rock of Gibraltar, since it became an English possession, has defied several sieges, notably that of 1779-1783.
The Scian and the Teian muse,
The hero's harp, the lover's lute,
Their place of birth alone is mute
The mountains look on Marathon,
And Marathon looks on the sea; And musing there an hour alone,
I dreamed that Greece might still be free; For, standing on the Persians' grave, I could not deem myself a slave.
A king sat on the rocky brow
Which looks o'er sea-born Salamis; And ships by thousands lay below,
And men in nations,—all were his! He counted them at break of day,— And when the sun set, where were they?
And where are they? and where art thou,
My country? On thy voiceless shore The heroic lay is tuneless now,
The heroic bosom beats no more! And must thy lyre, so long divine, Degenerate into hands like mine!
'Tis something, in the dearth of fame,
Though linked among a fettered race,
Even as I sing, suffuse my face;
Must we but weep o'er days more blest?
Lour fathers bled. Earth! render back from out thy breast
A remnant of our Spartan dead! Of the three hundred, grant but three To make a new Thermopylæ!
What, silent still? and silent all?
Ah no! the voices of the dead Sound like a distant torrent's fall,
And answer, “Let one living head, But one, arise, —we come, we come!” 'Tis but the living who are dumb.
In vain,-in vain; strike other chords;
Fill high the cup with Samian wine!
And shed the blood of Scio's vine!
You have the Pyrrhic dance as yet,
Where is the Pyrrhic phalanx gone? Of two such lessons, why forget
The nobler and the manlier one? You have the letters Cadmus gave,Think ye he meant them for a slave?
Fill high the bowl with Samian wine!
We will not think of themes like these! It made Anacreon's song divine;
He served, but served Polycrates,A tyrant; but our masters then Were still, at least, our countrymen.