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SONNETS UPON THE PUNISHMENT

OF DEATH.

IN SERIES.

[Composed 1839-40.-Published December, 1841 (Quarterly Review); vol. of 1842.]

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die

III.

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prison's crown, along this way they THE Roman Consul doomed his sons to past or lingering durance or quick death Who had betrayed their country. The with shame,

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stern word

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Is Death, when evil against good has Fiends in your aspect, yet beneficent

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Their wings to guard the unconscion Innocent

Slow be the Statutes of the land to share A laxity that could not but impair Your power to punish crime, and prevent.

And ye, Beliefs! coiled serpentabout

The adage on all tongues, "Murder will out,"

How shall your ancient warnings work for good

Seemingly given, debase the general mind;
Tempt the vague will tried standards to In the full might they hitherto have

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HOUGH to give timely warning and deter one great aim of penalty, extend hy mental vision further and ascend ar higher, else full surely shalt thou err. hat is a State? The wise behold in her 5 creature born of time, that keeps one eye xed on the statutes of Eternity,

which her judgments reverently defer. eaking through Law's dispassionate voice the State

dues her conscience with external life ad being, to preclude or quell the strife individual will, to elevate

e grovelling mind, the erring to recall, d fortify the moral sense of all.

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Leaving the final issue in His hands Whose goodness knows no change, whose love is sure,

Who sees, foresees; who cannot judge amiss,

And wafts at will the contrite soul to bliss.

XII.

SEE the Condemned alone within his cell And prostrate at some moment when

remorse

Stings to the quick, and, with resistless force,

Assaults the pride she strove in vain to quell.

Then mark him, him who could so long rebel,

5

The crime confessed, a kneeling Penitent Before the Altar, where the Sacrament Softens his heart, till from his eyes

outwell

Then, moved by needless fear of poet abuse,

Strike not from Law's firm hand that awful rod,

Tears of salvation. Welcome death! while But leave it thence to drop for lack

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His utterance finds; and, conscious of the gain,

Imagination works with bolder hope

YES, though He well may tremble at the The cause of grateful reason to sustain:

sound

Of his own voice, who from the judgment

seat

Sends the pale Convict to his last retreat In death; though Listeners shudder all around,

They know the dread requital's source profound;

5 Nor is, they feel, its wisdom obsolete(Would that it were!) the sacrifice unmeet

For Christian Faith. But hopeful signs abound;

The social rights of man breathe purer air;

Religion deepens her preventive care; 10

And, serving Truth, the heart

strongly beats

Against all barriers which his labe

meets

In lofty place, or humble Life's dom Enough;-before us lay a painful road. And guidance have I sought in dute love

From Wisdom's heavenly Father. He hath flowed

Patience, with trust that, whatsoe'er the way

Each takes in this high matter, all

move

Cheered with the prospect of a brighte day.

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.

I.

EPISTLE

Like an unshifting weathercock which

proves

How cold the quarter that the wind best loves,

OSIR GEORGE HOWLAND BEAUMONT, Or like a Centinel that, evermore

BART.

'rom the South-west Coast of Cumberland.-1811. (Composed 1811.-Published: vol, of 1842.]

'AR from our home by Grasmere's quiet Lake,

'rom the Vale's peace which all her fields partake,

[ere on the bleakest point of Cumbria's shore

20

Darkening the window, ill defends the

door

Of this unfinished house-a Fortress bare, Where strength has been the Builder's only care;

Whose rugged walls may still for years demand

The final polish of the Plasterer's hand. 25 -This Dwelling's Inmate more than three weeks' space

And oft a Prisoner in the cheerless place, Te sojourn stunned by Ocean's ceaseless I-of whose touch the fiddle would com

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rowns deepening visibly his native In music all unversed, nor blessed with gloom,

nless, perchance rejecting in despite That on the Plain we have of warmth and light,

his own storms he hides himself from sight.

ugh is the time; and thoughts, that would be free

10

skill

30

A bridge to copy, or to paint a mill,
Tired of my books, a scanty company!
And tired of listening to the boisterous

sea

Pace between door and window muttering rhyme,

their shame?)

An old resource to cheat a froward time! om heaviness, oft fly, dear Friend, to Though these dull hours (mine is it, or thee; 36 rn from a spot where neither sheltered Would tempt me to renounce that humble road

aim.

r hedge-row screen invites my steps -But if there be a Muse who, free to abroad;

take

ere one poor Plane-tree, having as it Her seat upon Olympus, doth forsake might

ained a stature twice a tall man's height,

40

Those heights (like Phoebus when his golden locks

15

He veiled, attendant on Thessalian flocks) And, in disguise, a Milkmaid with her pail

peless of further growth, and brown and sere

ough half the summer, stands with Trips down the pathways of some winding

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