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By the dark creeds which cover with I curse thee by a parent's outraged love,
eclipse By hopes long cherished and too Their pathway from the cradle to the lately lost,
tombBy gentle feelings thou couldst never
prove, By griefs which thy stern nature never By thy most impious Hell, and all its crost;
terror; By all the grief, the madness, and the
guilt By those infantine smiles of happy light, of thine impostures, which must be Which were a fire within a stranger's
That sand on which thy crumbling Quenched even when kindled, in un
power is builttimely night, Hiding the promise of a lovely birth;
By thy complicity with lust and hate
Thy thirst for tears—thy hunger after By those unpractised accents of young The ready frauds which ever on thee
goldspeech, Which he who is a father thought to
The servile arts in which thou hast To gentlest lore, such as the wisest
grown oldteachThou strike the lyre of mind ! O grief and shame!
By thy most killing sneer, and by thy
By all the arts and snares of thy
black den, By all the happy see in children's and for thou canst outweep the crocogrowth-
dileThat undeveloped flower of budding
By thy false tears — those millstones years
braining menSweetness and sadness interwoven both, Source of the sweetest hopes and saddest fears—
By all the hate which checks a father's
By all the scorn which kills a father's By all the days under an hireling's care, Of dull constraint and bitter heavi.
By those most impious hands which ness,
dared remove O wretched ye if ever any were,
Nature's high bounds—by thee-and Sadder than orphans, yet not father
by despair less !
XV By the false cant which on their inno. Yes, the despair which bids a father cent lips
groan, Must hang like poison on an opening And cry, “My children are no longer bloom,
The blood within those veins may be Near thy sweet mother's anxious heart,
Which thou with joy shalt fill, But - Tyrant - their polluted souls With fairest smiles of wonder thrown are thine ;—"
On that which is indeed our own,
And which in distant lands will be
The dearest playmate unto thee.
Fear not the tyrants will rule for ever,
Or the priests of the evil faith ;
They stand on the brink of that raging grave This curse should be a blessing.
river, Fare thee well !
Whose waves they have tainted with
Around them it foams and rages and
And their swords and their sceptres I The billows on the beach are leaping
Like wrecks on the surge of eternity.
that bound it Darkly strew the gale.
Rest, rest, and shriek not, thou gentle
child ! Come with me, thou delightful child, Come with me, though the wave is wild,
The rocking of the boat thou fearest, And the winds are loose, we must not And the cold spray and the clamour
There sit between Or the slaves of the law may rend thee
us two, thou
Me and thy mother-well we know They have taken thy brother and sister with all its dark and hungry graves,
The storm at which thou tremblest so, dear, They have made them unfit for thee; Who hunt us o'er these sheltering waves.
Less cruel than the savage slaves They have withered the smile and dried
the tear Which should have been sacred to
This hour will in thy memory To a blighting faith and a cause of
Be a dream of days forgotten long, crime
We soon shall dwell by the azure sea They have bound them slaves in youthly Of serene and golden Italy, prime,
Or Greece, the Mother of the free; And they will curse my name and thee
And I will teach thine infant tongue Because we are fearless and free. To call upon those heroes old
In their own language, and will mould
Thy growing spirit in the fame Come thou, beloved as thou art ; Of Grecian lore, that by such name Another sleepeth still
A patriot's birthright thou mayst claim !
The stream we gazed on-then, rolled by; Its waves are unreturning;
But we yet stand
Thou wert not, Cassius, and thou
couldst not be, Last of the Romans, though thy
memory claim From Brutus his own glory—and on
Rests the full splendour of his sacred Those may not know who cannot faine;
weep for them. Nor he who dared make the foul tyrant
quail Amid his cowering senate with thy
name, Though thou and he were great-it will
Once more descend avail
The shadows of my soul upon manTo thine own fame that Otho's should
kind, not fail.
For to those hearts with which they II
Thoughts are but shadows which the 'Twill wrong thee not—thou wouldst,
flashing mind if thou couldst feel,
From the swift clouds which track its Abjure such envious fame — great
flight of fire, Otho died
Casts on the gloomy world it leaves Like thee-he sanctified his country's
behind. steel, At once the tyrant and tyrannicide, In his own blood- 1-a deed it was to
FRAGMENT: A CLOUD. bring Tears from all men—though full of
CHARIOT gentle pride,
O THAT a chariot of cloud were mine! Such pride as from impetuous love may Of cloud which the wild tempest spring,
weaves in air, That will not be refused its offering.
When the moon over the ocean's line
Is spreading the locks of her bright
O that a chariot of cloud were mine!
billowy wind Those whom nor power, nor lying faith, so the mountain peak and the rocky nor toil,
lake, Nor custom, queen of many slaves, And the ..
makes blind, Have ever grieved that man should be
FRAGMENT: TO ONE FREED the spoil Of his own weakness, and with ear.
FROM PRISON nest mind
For me, my friend, if not that tears did Fed hopes of its redemption, these
tremble Chastened by deathsul victory now,
In my faint eyes, and that my heart
beat fast and find
With feelings which make rapture pain Foundations in this foulest age, and stir
resemble, Me whom they cheer to be their
Yet, from thy voice that salsehood minister.
I thank thee-let the tyrant keep Dark is the realm of grief: but human His chains and tears, yea let him weep things
With rage to see thee freshly risen,
Like strength from slumber, from the When once from our possession they prison,
must pass; In which he vainly hoped the soul to But love, though misdirected, is bind
among Which on the chains must prey that | The things which are immortal, and fetter humankind.
All that frail stuff which will be - or FRAGMENT: SATAN AT LARGE
which was. A GOLDEN-WINGÈD Angel stood
Before the Eternal Judgment-seat: FRAGMENT: THOUGHTS IN His looks were wild, and Devils' blood
My thoughts arise and fade in solitude, Knew that strise was now begun.
The verse that would invest them They knew that Satan had broken his
melts away chain,
Like moonlight in the heaven of And with millions of demons in his spreading day : train,
How beautiful they were, how firm they Was ranging over the world again.
stood, Before the Angel had told his tale, Flecking the starry sky like wover A sweet and a creeping sound
pearl ! Like the rushing of wings was heard
around; And suddenly the lamps grew pale---
FRAGMENT: THE FIGHT The lamps, before the Archangels seven,
WAS O’ER That burn continually in heaven.
The fight was o’er: the flashing through
the gloom FRAGMENT: UNSATISFIED
Which robes the cannon as he wings a DESIRE
Had ceased. To thirst and find no fill - to wail and
wander With short uneasy steps- to pause and
A HATE-SONG ponderTo feel the blood run through the veins A Hater he came and sat by a ditch, and tingle
And he took an old cracked lute; Where busy thought and blind sensation And he sang a song which was more of mingle;
a screech To nurse the image of unselt caresses
'Gainst a woman that was a brute. Till dim imagination just possesses The half created shadow.
LINES TO A CRITIC
FRAGMENT: LOVE IMMORTAL
Or silk from the yellow bee? Of the great sea of human right and The grass may grow in winter weather wrong,
As soon as hate in me.