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Her right hand, as it lies Across the slender wrist of the left arm Upon her lap reposing, holds-but mark How slackly, for the absent mind permits

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No firmer grasp a little wild-flower, joined

As in a posy, with a few pale ears

Of yellowing corn, the same that overtopped

That both creates and fixes, in despite
Of Death and Time, the marvels it hath
wrought.

Strange contrasts have we in this world of ours!

That posture, and the look of filial love 80
Thinking of past and gone, with what is
left

Dearly united, might be swept away
From this fair Portrait's fleshlyArchetype,
Even by an innocent fancy's slightest

freak

Banished, nor ever, haply, be restored 85
To their lost place, or meet in harmony
So exquisite; but here do they abide,
Enshrined for ages. Is not then the Art
Godlike, a humble branch of the divine,
In visible quest of immortality,
Stretched forth with trembling hope?-In
every realm,

From high Gibraltar to Siberian plains, And in their common birthplace sheltered Thousands, in each variety of tongue

it

Till they were plucked together; a blue flower 60 Called by the thrifty husbandman a weed; But Ceres, in her garland, might have

worn

That ornament, unblamed. The floweret, held

90

That Europe knows, would echo this

appeal;

One above all, a Monk who waits on God
In the magnific Convent built of yore 96
To sanctify the Escurial palace. He-
Guiding, from cell to cell and room to
room,

A British Painter (eminent for truth

In scarcely conscious fingers, was, she In character, and depth of feeling, shown

knows,

(Her Father told her so) in youth's gay dawn

65 Her Mother's favourite; and the orphan Girl,

In her own dawn-a dawn less gay and bright,

Loves it, while there in solitary peace She sits, for that departed Mother's sake. -Not from a source less sacred is derived (Surely I do not err) that pensive air 71 Of calm abstraction through the face diffused

And the whole person.

Words have something told
More than the pencil can, and verily
More than is needed, but the precious
Art
Forgives their interference-Art divine,

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By labours that have touched the hearts of kings,

ΙΟΙ

And are endeared to simple cottagers)-
Came, in that service, to a glorious work,
Our Lord's Last Supper, beautiful as
when first

The

appropriate Picture, fresh from Titian's hand,

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Graced the Refectory: and there, while both

Stood with eyes fixed upon that masterpiece,

The hoary Father in the Stranger's ear Breathed out these words:-"Here daily do we sit,

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Thanks given to God for daily bread, and
here
Pondering the mischiefs of these restless
times,

And thinking of my Brethren, dead, dis- And dissolution and decay, the warm And breathing life of flesh, as if already

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persed, Or changed and changing, I not seldom Clothed with impassive majesty, and

gaze

Upon this solemn Company unmoved

By shock of circumstance, or lapse of years,

115 Until I cannot but believe that theyThey are in truth the Substance, we the Shadows."

So spake the mild Jeronymite, his griefs Melting away within him like a dream Ere he had ceased to gaze, perhaps to speak: 120 And I, grown old, but in a happier land, Domestic Portrait! have to verse consigned

In thy calm presence those heart-moving words:

Words that can soothe, more than they agitate;

Whose spirit, like the angel that went down

125 Into Bethesda's pool, with healing virtue Informs the fountain in the human breast Which by the visitation was disturbed.

-But why this stealing tear? Companion mute,

On thee I look, not sorrowing; fare thee well,

130

My Song's Inspirer, once again farewell1!

XLI.

THE FOREGOING SUBJECT
RESUMED.

[Composed 1834.-Published 1835.]

AMONG a grave fraternity of Monks,
For One, but surely not for One alone,
Triumphs, in that great work, the
Painter's skill,

Humbling the body, to exalt the soul;
Yet representing, amid wreck and wrong

1 The pile of buildings composing the palace and convent of San Lorenzo, has, in common usage, lost its proper name in that of the Escurial, a village at the foot of the hill upon which the splendid edifice, built by Philip the Second, stands. It need scarcely be added that Wilkie is the painter alluded to.

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2 In the class entitled "Musings," in Mr. Southey's Minor Poems, is one upon his own miniature Picture, taken in childhood, and another upon a landscape painted by Gaspar Poussin. It is possible that every word of the above verses, though similar in subject, might have been written had the author been unacquainted with those beautiful effusions of poetic sentiment. But, for his own satisfaction, he must be allowed thus publicly to acknowledge the pleasure those two Poems of his Friend have given him, and the grateful influence they have upon his mind as often as he reads them, or thinks of them.

XLII.

XLIII.

[Composed 1844.-Published 1845.]

So fair, so sweet, withal so sensitive, Would that the little Flowers were born

to live,

UPON SEEING A COLOURED DRAW. ING OF THE BIRD OF PARADISE IN AN ALBUM.

[Composed 1835-6.-Published 1837.]

Conscious of half the pleasure which they WHO rashly strove thy Image to portray?

give;

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fount !

Thou buoyant minion of the tropic air; How could he think of the live creaturegay

With a divinity of colours, drest

In all her brightness, from the dancing

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Are here, and likenesses of many a shell

So might he ken how by his sovereign Tossed ashore by restless waves,

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Or in the diver's grasp fetched up from

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And even a title higher still,

Uphold our Spirits urged to kindred flight

pure sight,

The Bird of God! whose blessed will 30 On wings that fear no glance of God's
She seems performing as she flies
Over the earth and through the skies
In never-wearied search of Paradise-
Region that crowns her beauty with the

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No tempest from his breath, their promised rest

Seeking with indefatigable quest

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Above a world that deems itself most wise

When most enslaved by gross realities!

SONNETS

DEDICATED TO LIBERTY AND ORDER.

I.

COMPOSED AFTER READING A NEWS-
PAPER OF THE DAY.

[Composed 1831.-Published 1835.]

As with one voice; their flinty heart grew
soft

With penitential sorrow, and aloft
Their spirit mounted, crying, "God us
aid!"

"PEOPLE! your chains are severing link Oh that with aspirations more intense,

by link;

Soon shall the Rich be levelled down-the
Poor

Chastised by self-abasement more pro

found,

ΙΟ

This People, once so happy, so renowned Meet them half way." Vain boast! for For liberty, would seek from God defence These, the more Against far heavier ill, the pestilence They thus would rise, must low and lower Of revolution, impiously unbound! sink

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