Volume I Part 8 (1/2)
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.