It moves us not.-Great God! I'd rather be
A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn ;

So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn ;
Have sight of Proteus coming from the sea,

Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn.

THOUGHT OF A BRITON ON THE SUBJUGATION OF SWITZERLAND.

Two Voices are there,-one is of the sea,

One of the mountains,—each a mighty Voice:
In both from age to age, thou didst rejoice,
They were thy chosen music, Liberty!
There came a Tyrant, and with holy glee

Thou fought'st against him; but hast vainly striven:
Thou from thy Alpine holds at length art driven,
Where not a torrent murmurs heard by thee.
Of one deep bliss thine ear hath been bereft :
Then cleave, O cleave to that which still is left;
For, high-souled Maid, what sorrow would it be
That Mountain floods should thunder as before,
And Ocean bellow from his rocky shore,
And neither awful Voice be heard by thee!

An old place, full of many a lovely brood,

Tall trees, green arbours, and ground-flowers in flocks; And wild rose tip-toe upon hawthorn stocks,

Like to a bonny lass, who plays her pranks

At Wakes and Fairs with wandering Mountebanks,When she stands cresting the Clown's head, and mocks The crowd beneath her. Verily I think,

Such place to me is sometimes like a dream

Or map of the whole world: thoughts, link by link, Enter through ears and eyesight, with such gleam

Of all things, that at last in fear I shrink,

And leap at once from the delicious stream.

LONDON, 1802.

MILTON! thou should'st be living at this hour:
England hath need of thee: she is a fen
Of stagnant waters: altar, sword, and pen,
Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower,
Have forfeited their ancient English dower
Of inward happiness. We are selfish men:
Oh! raise us up, return to us again;
And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power.
Thy soul was like a Star, and dwelt apart :
Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea;

Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free ;

So didst thou travel on life's common way,

In cheerful godliness; and yet thy heart
The lowliest duties on itself did lay.

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.
And what if she had seen those glories fade,
Those titles vanish, and that strength decay;
Yet shall some tribute of regret be paid

When her long life hath reached its final day :

Men are we, and must grieve when even the Shade
Of that which once was great, is passed away.

GREAT men have been among us; hands that penned

And tongues that uttered wisdom-better none :
The later Sydney, Marvel, Harrington,

Young Vane and others who called Milton friend.
These moralists could act and comprehend:
They knew how genuine glory was put on ;

Taught us how rightfully a nation shone

In splendour: what strength was, that would not bend
But in magnanimous meekness. France, 'tis strange,
Hath brought forth no such souls as we had then.
Perpetual emptiness! unceasing change!

No single volume paramount, no code,
No master spirit, no determined road;
But equally a want of books and men !

BRITISH FREEDOM.

Ir is not to be thought of that the flood
Of British freedom, which, to the open sea
Of the world's praise, from dark antiquity
Hath flowed," with pomp of waters, unwithstood : "
Road by which all might come and go that would,
And bear out freights of worth to foreign lands,
That this most famous stream in bogs and sands
Should perish, and to evil and to good
Be lost for ever. In our halls is hung

Armoury of the invincible Knights of old:
We must be free or die, who speak the tongue
That Shakspeare spake; the faith and morals hold
Which Milton held.-In everything we are sprung
Of Earth's first blood, have titles manifold.