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Where winds and waters cease to strive,

For no unholy visitings,

Among the monsters of the Deep,
And all the sad and precious things
Which there in ghastly silence sleep?
Or, adverse tides and currents headed,
And breathless calms no longer dreaded,
In never-slackening voyage go
Straight as an arrow from the bow,
And, slighting sails and scorning oars,
Keep faith with Time on distant shores?
Within our fearless reach are placed
The secrets of the burning Waste;
Egyptian tombs unlock their dead,
Nile trembles at his fountain-head;
Thou speak'st, and lo! the Polar Seas
Unbosom their last mysteries.

But oh! what transports, what sublime reward, Won from the world of mind, dost thou prepare For philosophic Sage; or high-souled Bard, Who, for thy service trained in lonely woods, Hath fed on pageants floating through the air, Or calentured in depth of limpid floods; Nor grieves, tho' doomed thro' silent night to bear The domination of his glorious themes,

Or struggle in the network of thy dreams!


If there be movements in the Patriot's soul,
From source still deeper, and of higher worth,

'Tis thine the quickening impulse to control, And in due season send the mandate forth; Thy call a prostrate Nation can restore,

When but a single Mind resolves to crouch no



Dread Minister of wrath!

Who to their destined punishment dost urge

The Pharaohs of the earth, the men of hardened heart!

Not unassisted by the flattering stars,

Thou strew'st temptation o'er the path
When they in pomp depart,

With trampling horses and refulgent cars,-
Soon to be swallowed by the briny surge;

Or cast, for lingering death, on unknown strands;

Or caught amid a whirl of desert sands,

An army now, and now a living hill

That a brief while heaves with convulsive throes, -
Then all is still;

Or, to forget their madness and their woes,
Wrapt in a winding-sheet of spotless snows!


Back flows the willing current of my Song:
If to provoke such doom the Impious dare,
Why should it daunt a blameless prayer?

Bold Goddess! range our Youth among; Nor let thy genuine impulse fail to beat

In hearts no longer young

Still may a veteran Few have pride

In thoughts whose sternness makes them sweet;
In fixed resolves by Reason justified;
That to their object cleave like sleet
Whitening a pine-tree's northern side,
When fields are naked far and wide,

And withered leaves, from earth's cold breast
Up-caught in whirlwinds, nowhere can find rest.


But, if such homage thou disdain

As doth with mellowing years agree,
One rarely absent from thy train
More humble favors may obtain
For thy contented Votary.
She, who incites the frolic lambs

In presence of their heedless dams,
And to the solitary fawn

Vouchsafes her lessons, bounteous Nymph
That wakes the breeze, the sparkling lymph
Doth hurry to the lawn;

She, who inspires that strain of joyance holy

Which the sweet Bird, misnamed the melancholy, Pours forth in shady groves, shall plead for me; And vernal mornings opening bright

With views of undefined delight,

And cheerful songs, and suns that shine

On busy days, with thankful nights, be mine.


But thou, O Goddess! in thy favorite Isle
(Freedom's impregnable redoubt,

The wide earth's storehouse fenced about
With breakers roaring to the gales
That stretch a thousand thousand sails)
Quicken the slothful, and exalt the vile! -
Thy impulse is the life of Fame;
Glad Hope would almost cease to be
If torn from thy society;

And Love, when worthiest of his name,
Is proud to walk the earth with thee!




INMATE of a mountain dwelling,

Thou hast clomb aloft, and gazed
From the watch-towers of Helvellyn;

Awed, delighted, and amazed!

Potent was the spell that bound thee,

Not unwilling to obey;

For blue Ether's arms, flung round thee,
Stilled the pantings of dismay.

Lo the dwindled woods and meadows! What a vast abyss is there!

Lo the clouds, the solemn shadows,

And the glistenings,

heavenly fair!

And a record of commotion

Which a thousand ridges yield;
Ridge, and gulf, and distant ocean
Gleaming like a silver shield!


Maiden! now take flight; inherit
Alps or Andes, -they are thine !
With the morning's roseate Spirit,
Sweep their length of snowy line;

Or survey their bright dominions
In the gorgeous colors drest
Flung from off the purple pinions
Evening spreads throughout the west!

Thine are all the coral fountains
Warbling in each sparry vault

Of the untrodden lunar mountains;
Listen to their songs!or halt,

To Niphates' top invited,
Whither spiteful Satan steered;
Or descend where the ark alighted,
When the green earth reappeared;

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