IV. Departing Year! 'twas on no earthly shore Thou storied'st thy sad hours! Silence ensued, Whose locks with wreaths, whose wreaths with glories shone. Then, his eye wild ardours glancing, The SPIRIT of the EARTH made reverence meet, V. Throughout the blissful throng, Hush'd were harp and song : Till wheeling round the throne the LAMPADS Seven, (The mystic Words of Heaven) Permissive signal make; The fervent Spirit bow'd, then spread his wings and spake ! "Thou in stormy blackness throning "Love and uncreated Light, "By the Earth's unsolaced groaning, "Seize thy terrors, Arm of might! "By Peace, with proffer'd insult scar'd, "Masked Hate and envying Scorn! "By Years of Havoc yet unborn! "And Hunger's bosom to the frost-winds bared! "But chief by Afric's wrongs, "Strange, horrible, and foul! "By what deep guilt belongs "To the deaf Synod, full of gifts and lies!' By Wealth's insensate laugh! by Torture's howl! "Avenger, rise! "For ever shall the thankless Island scowl, "Her quiver full, and with unbroken bow ? "Speak! from thy storm-black Heaven O speak aloud! "And on the darkling foe "Open thine eye of fire from some uncertain cloud! "O dart the flash! O rise and deal the blow! "The Past to thee, to thee the Future cries! "Hark! how wide Nature joins her groans below! "Rise, God of Nature! rise." VI. The voice had ceased, the vision fled; Yet still I gasp'd and reel'd with dread. And ever, when the dream of night Wild is the tempest of my heart; No stranger agony confounds The Soldier on the war-field spread, When all foredone with toil and wounds. Death-like he dozes among heaps of dead ! (The strife is o'er, the day-light fled, And the night-wind clamours hoarse! See the starting wretch's head Lies pillow'd on a brother's corse !) VII. Not yet enslav'd, not wholly vile, O Albion! O my mother Isle ! Echo to the bleat of flocks; (Those grassy hills, those glitt'ring dells Hence, for many a fearless age, Has social Quiet lov'd thy shore; Nor ever proud Invader's rage Or sack'd thy towers, or stain'd thy fields with gore. VIII. Abandon'd of Heaven! mad Avarice thy guide, Mid thy herds and thy corn-fields secure thou hast stood, If ever to her lidless dragon-eyes, O Albion! thy predestin'd ruins rise, The fiend-hag on her perilous couch doth leap, Muttering distemper'd triumph in her charmed sleep. IX. Away, my soul, away ! In vain, in vain the Birds of warning singAnd hark! I hear the famish'd brood of prey Flap their lank pennons on the groaning wind! Away, my soul, away ! I unpartaking of the evil thing, With daily prayer and daily toil Soliciting for food my scanty soil, Have wailed my country with a loud Lament. Now I recenter my immortal mind In the deep sabbath of meek self-content; Cleans'd from the vaporous passions that bedim God's Image, sister of the Seraphim. |