XXXIX

I look around on all who labour on

For man's true elevation-but I see

None whom we owe a greater debt than thee, Fox! of the fervid mind and manly tone! Above thy compeers dost thou stand alone, Urging, with bold originality,

Stern truths, whose practical results may be Applied to daily life as soon as known.

Guiding the reason, stirring up the mind, Exploding superstitions, claiming rights, Leading our thoughts to dwell on th' refined, The beautiful, the noble-which excites,

And softens also, and at once unites

The sympathies and hopes of human kind.

XL.

O lay me not among the festering heap,
They crowd within a city sepulchre !

That loathsome desecration.-I'd prefer
Rather to lie untomb'd than there to sleep.
Bury me in some lone churchyard, where sweep
All the four winds alternate o'er my cell,
And where the daisy and the pimpernel
May close their eyes at eve and seem to weep.
I loved such spots ere muse of Blair or Gray
To hallow them unto my mind was given,
And oft since then the eye of pesnive Even
Has seen me in their precincts thoughtful stray;
Here let my form commingle with the clay,

And here await th' awakening breath of Heaven,

XLI.

Not to old lands—though I might hear and see Lone Greece reclining o'er her broken urn, And humbled Rome in roofless temples mourn

Her fallen greatness-do my longings flee:

The future holds the wonder-land for me,

Upon whose shores I hopefully discern

Lights of man's higher, nobler destiny,
However dim at present they may burn.
My footsteps may not reach it, but my mind

Has journey'd thither far beyond my time;
I hear its citizens, in love combined,

Chaunting to Peace an anthem all sublime:

See towns uncursed by ignorance and crime, And earth as fruitful as the Heavens design'd.

XLII.

Though Time had chang'd his form, his heart was fresh
With flowers of love, with which she planted it,
For memory's dews the blossoms had bewet-

No storm of life had ever power to dash

One leaflet from the stem-no bright eye's flash
Wither'd one beauty-every tendril yet

Clings to its pulse, which pants with half regret
And half delight, to lie in such a mesh.

As the unmelted snow on mountain steeps
For ever shields the substance hid below,

So his pure early passion ever keeps

The heart it rests on from all seeming glow; And few among the idle crowd could know What warmth or truth beneath its coldness sleeps.

XLIII.

TO DEATH.

Dread conquering foe-thou fell insatiate King,
Who reign'st in this extended mighty space-
Tyrant supreme o'er all of mortal race,
Thousands of arrows dost thou daily fling,
As sure in aim as fatal in their sting.

Thou for no bribe that shaft wilt e'er replace,
Once drawn-all equal are before thy face,
Thou kings and slaves dost to one level bring.
Gaunt sceptred leader of the ghastly band!

Around whose throne thy million victims lay, Ere long, perchance, thou may'st unnerve this hand, And call my spirit from this earth away;

But not eternally shalt thou command―

Time's end shall smite thee, and release thy prey.