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October 1818.

And the winds whose wings rain balm
On the uplifted soul, and leaves
Under which the bright sea heaves;
While each breathless interval
In their whisperings musical
The inspired soul supplies
With its own deep melodies,
And the love which heals all strife,
Circling, like the breath of life,

All things in that sweet abode
With its own mild brotherhood.

They, not it, would change; and soon
Every sprite beneath the moon
Would repent its envy vain,

And the earth grow young again.

STANZAS

WRITTEN IN DEJECTION NEAR NAPLES.

I. THE Sun is warm, the sky is clear,
The waves are dancing fast and bright;
Blue isles and snowy mountains wear
The purple noon's transparent might;
The breath of the moist earth is light
Around its unexpanded buds ;

Like many a voice of one delight,
The winds', the birds', the ocean floods',
The city's voice itself, is soft like Solitude's.

2. I see the deep's untrampled floor

With green and purple sea-weeds strown;

I see the waves upon the shore,

Like light dissolved, in star-showers thrown.
I sit upon the sands alone.

The lightning of the noontide ocean

Is flashing round me, and a tone

Arises from its measured motion,

How sweet, did any heart now share in my emotion!

3. Alas! I have nor hope nor health,

Nor peace within nor calm around;
Nor that content, surpassing wealth,
The sage in meditation found,

And walked with inward glory crowned;
Nor fame nor power nor love nor leisure.
Others I see whom these surround-

Smiling they live, and call life pleasure;—

To me that cup has been dealt in another measure.

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4. Yet now despair itself is mild,
Even as the winds and waters are;
I could lie down like a tired child,
And weep away the life of care
Which I have borne and yet must bear,—
Till death like sleep might steal on me,
And I might feel in the warm air
My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea
Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony.

5. Some might lament that I were cold,
As I when this sweet day is gone,
Which my lost heart, too soon grown old,
Insults with this untimely moan.
They might lament-for I am one
Whom men love not, and yet regret ;

Unlike this day, which, when the sun

Shall on its stainless glory set,

Will linger, though enjoyed, like joy in memory yet.

December 1818.

MISERY.

I. COME, be happy,-sit near me,
Shadow-vested Misery:
Coy, unwilling, silent bride,
Mourning in thy robe of pride,
Desolation deified!

2. Come, be happy,-sit near me :
Sad as I may seem to thee,
I am happier far than thou,
Lady whose imperial brow
Is endiademed with woe.

3. Misery! we have known each other,
Like a sister and a brother
Living in the same lone home,
Many years we must live some
Hours or ages yet to come.

4. 'Tis an evil lot, and yet
Let us make the best of it;

If love can live when pleasure dies,
We two will love, till in our eyes
This heart's hell seem paradise.
5. Come, be happy,-lie thee down
On the fresh grass newly mown,
Where the grasshopper doth sing
Merrily-one joyous thing
In a world of sorrowing.

6. There our tent shall be the willow,
And mine arm shall be thy pillow:
Sounds and odours, sorrowful

Because they once were sweet, shall lull
Us to slumber deep and dull.

7. Ha! thy frozen pulses flutter
With a love thou dar'st not utter.

Thou art murmuring-thou art weeping-
Is thine icy bosom leaping,

While my burning heart lies sleeping?

8. Kiss me-oh! thy lips are cold!
Round my neck thine arms enfold-
They are soft, but chill and dead ;
And thy tears upon my head
Burn like points of frozen lead.

9. Hasten to the bridal bed-
Underneath the grave 'tis spread:
In darkness may our love be hid,
Oblivion be our coverlid-
We may rest, and none forbid.

10. Clasp me, till our hearts be grown
Like two lovers into one;

Till this dreadful transport may
Like a vapour fade away

In the sleep that lasts alway.

11. We may dream in that long sleep
That we are not those who weep;
Even as Pleasure dreams of thee,
Life-deserting Misery,

Thou mayst dream of her with me.

12. Let us laugh and make our mirth
At the shadows of the earth;
As dogs bay the moonlight clouds
Which, like spectres wrapped in shrouds,
Pass o'er night in multitudes.

13. All the wide world, beside us,
Show like multitudinous

Puppets passing from a scene;
What but mockery can they mean

Where I am-where thou hast been?

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THE MASQUE OF ANARCHY.

1. As I lay asleep in Italy,

There came a voice from over the sea.
And with great power it forth led me
To walk in the visions of Poesy.

2. I met Murder on the way

He had a mask like Castlereagh.
Very smooth he looked, yet grim ;
Seven bloodhounds followed him.

3. All were fat; and well they might
Be in admirable plight,

For one by one, and two by two,
He tossed them human hearts to chew,
Which from his wide cloak he drew.

4. Next came Fraud, and he had on,
Like Lord Eldon, an ermine gown.
His big tears, for he wept well,
Turned to millstones as they fell;

5. And the little children who
Round his feet played to and fro,
Thinking every tear a gem,

Had their brains knocked out by them.

6. Clothed with the bible, as with light
And the shadows of the night,
Like Sidmouth next, Hypocrisy
On a crocodile came by.

7. And many more Destructions played In this ghastly masquerade,

All disguised, even to the eyes,
Like bishops, lawyers, peers, or spies.
8. Last came Anarchy; he rode

On a white horse splashed with blood
He was pale even to the lips,
Like Death in the Apocalypse.

9. And he wore a kingly crown;
In his hand a sceptre shone;
On his brow this mark I saw-
"I am God, and King, and Law!"

10. With a pace stately and fast
Over English land he passed,
Trampling to a mire of blood
The adoring multitude.

II. And a mighty troop around

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With their trampling shook the ground,
Waving each a bloody sword

For the service of their lord.

12. And with glorious triumph they

Rode through England, proud and gay.
Drunk as with intoxication

Of the wine of desolation.

13. O'er fields and towns, from sea to sea,
Passed the pageant swift and free,
Tearing up and trampling down,
Till they came to London town.

14. And each dweller, panic-stricken,
Felt his heart with terror sicken,
Hearing the tempestuous cry
Of the triumph of Anarchy.

15. For with pomp to meet him came,
Clothed in arms like blood and flame,
The hired murderers who did sing,
"Thou art God, and Law, and King!

16. "We have waited, weak and lone,
For thy coming, Mighty One!

Our purses are empty, our swords are cold;
Give us glory, and blood, and gold."

17. Lawyers and priests, a motley crowd,
To the earth their pale brows bowed,-
Like a bad prayer not over loud,
Whispering "Thou art Law and God!”
18. Then all cried with one accord,

"Thou art King, and Law, and Lord;

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