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Is busiest to confer and to bereave;

Then, pensive Votary! let thy feet repair
To Gordale chasm, terrific as the lair

Where the young lions couch; for so, by leave
Of the propitious hour, thou mayst perceive
The local Deity, with oozy hair

And mineral crown, beside his jagged urn
Recumbent: Him thou mayst behold, who hides
His lineaments by day, yet there presides,
Teaching the docile waters how to turn,
Or (if need be) impediment to spurn,
And force their passage to the salt-sea tides !



EARTH has not anything to show more fair:
Dull would he be of soul who could pass by
A sight so touching in its majesty :
This City now doth, like a garment, wear
The beauty of the morning; silent, bare,
Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie
Open unto the fields, and to the sky,
All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
Never did sun more beautifully steep,
In his first splendor, valley, rock, or hill;
Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!
The river glideth at his own sweet will:
Dear God! the very houses seem asleep;
And all that mighty heart is lying still!




IF these brief Records, by the Muses' art
Produced, as lonely Nature or the strife
That animates the scenes of public life *
Inspired, may in thy leisure claim a part;
And if these Transcripts of the private heart
Have gained a sanction from thy falling tears:
Then I repent not. But my soul hath fears
Breathed from eternity; for as a dart
Cleaves the blank air, Life flies: now every day
Is but a glimmering spoke in the swift wheel
Of the revolving week. Away, away,

All fitful cares, all transitory zeal!

So timely Grace the immortal wing may heal,
And honor rest upon the senseless clay.



THOUGH the bold wings of Poesy affect
The clouds, and wheel around the mountain-tops

This line alludes to Sonnets which will be found in another Class.

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Rejoicing, from her loftiest height she drops.
Well pleased to skim the plain with wild-flowers


Or muse in solemn grove whose shades protect
The lingering dew,-there steals along, or stops
Watching the least small bird that round her hops,
Or creeping worm, with sensitive respect.
Her functions are they therefore less divine,
Her thoughts less deep, or void of grave intent
Her simplest fancies? Should that fear be thine,
Aspiring Votary, ere thy hand present

One offering, kneel before her modest shrine,
With brow in penitential sorrow bent !


OXFORD, MAY 30, 1820.

YE sacred Nurseries of blooming Youth!
In whose collegiate shelter. England's Flowers
Expand, enjoying through their vernal hours
The air of liberty, the light of truth;

Much have ye suffered from Time's gnawing tooth:
Yet, O ye spires of Oxford! domes and towers!
Gardens and groves! your presence overpowers
The soberness of reason; till, in sooth,
Transformed, and rushing on a bold exchange,
I slight my own beloved Cam, to range
Where silver Isis leads my stripling feet;
Pace the long avenue, or glide adown
The stream-like windings of that glorious street,-
An eager Novice robed in fluttering gown!

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OXFORD, MAY 30, 1820.

SHAME on this faithless heart! that could allow Such transport, though but for a moment's space; Not while to aid the spirit of the place

The crescent moon clove with its glittering prow The clouds, or night-bird sang from shady bough• But in plain daylight: She, too, at my side,


Who, with her heart's experience satisfied,
Maintains inviolate its slightest vow!

Sweet Fancy! other gifts must I receive;
Proofs of a higher sovereignty I claim;

Take from her brow the withering flowers of eve,
And to that brow life's morning wreath restore;
Let her be comprehended in the frame

Of these illusions, or they please no more.



THE imperial stature, the colossal stride,

Are yet before me; yet do I behold

The broad, full visage, chest of amplest mould,
The vestments 'broidered with barbaric pride :
And lo! a poniard, at the Monarch's side,
Hangs ready to be grasped in sympathy

With the keen threatenings of that fulgent eye,

Below the white-rimmed bonnet far descried.
Who trembles now at thy capricious mood?
'Mid those surrounding Worthies, haughty King,
We rather think, with grateful mind sedate,
How Providence educeth, from the spring
Of lawless will, unlooked-for streams of good,
Which neither force shall check nor time abate!



WARD of the Law!-dread Shadow of a King! Whose realm had dwindled to one stately room; Whose universe was gloom immersed in gloom, Darkness as thick as life o'er life could fling, Save haply for some feeble glimmering

Of Faith and Hope, if thou, by Nature's doom, Gently hast sunk into the quiet tomb,

Why should we bend in grief, to sorrow cling, When thankfulness were best? - Fresh-flowing


Or, where tears flow not, sigh succeeding sigh,
Yield to such after-thought the sole reply
Which justly it can claim. The Nation hears
In this deep knell, silent for threescore years,
An unexampled voice of awful memory!

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