Than he to England; call him, if you will,
Too fond of power-'twas power for England still. Through this he ruled; he spoke, and this was shown;
The Laws, the Land, the Altar and the Throne,
Mere words with others, were to him the all
Left man to prize and strive for since the Fall.
In stalwart contrast, large of heart and frame,
Destined for power, in youth more bent on fame,
Sincere, yet deeming half the world a sham,
Mark the rude handsome manliness of Lamb!
None then foresaw his rise; ev'n now but few
Guess right the man so many thought they knew;
Gossip accords him attributes like these-
A sage good-humour based on love of ease,
A mind that most things undisturb'dly weigh'd,
Nor deem'd their metal worth the clink it made.
Such was the man, in part, to outward show;
Another man lay coil'd from sight below-
As mystics tell us that this fleshly form
Enfolds a subtler which escapes the worm,
And is the true one which the Maker's breath
Quicken'd from dust, and privileged from death.
His was a restless, anxious intellect;
Eager for truth and pining to detect,
Each ray of light that mind can cast on soul,
Chequering its course, or shining from its goal,
Each metaphysic doubt-each doctrine dim-
Plato or Pusey-had delight for him.
His mirth, though genial, came by fits and starts—
The man was mournful in his heart of hearts.
Oft would he sit, or wander forth alone;
Sad-why? I know not; was it ever known?
Tears came with ease to those ingenuous eyes-
A verse, if noble, bade them nobly rise.
Hear him discourse, you'd think he scarcely felt;
No heart more facile to arouse or melt;
High as a knight's in some Castilian lay,
And tender as a sailor's in a play.
Hear him in senates, second-rate at best,
Clear in a statement, happy in a jest ;
Sought he to shine, then certain to displease;
Tawdry yet coarse-grain'd, tinsel upon frieze :
His Titan strength must touch what gave it birth;
Hear him to mobs, and on his mother earth!
Once to my sight the giant thus was given,
Wall'd by wide air, and roof'd by boundless heaven;
Beneath his feet the human ocean lay,
And wave on wave flow'd into space away.
Methought no clarion could have sent its sound
Even to the centre of the hosts around;
And as I thought rose the sonorous swell,
As from some church tower swings the silvery bell. Aloft and clear, from airy tide to tide,
It glided, easy as a bird may glide;
To the last verge of that vast audience sent,
It play'd with each wild passion as it went.
Now stirr'd the uproar, now the murmur still'd, And sobs or laughter answered as it will'd.
Then did I know what spells of infinite choice,
To rouse or lull, has the sweet human voice;
Then did I seem to seize the sudden clue
To the grand troublous Life Antique-to view
Under the rock-stand of Demosthenes
Mutable Athens heave her noisy seas.
Loud as a scandal on the ears of town, And just as brief, the orator's renown! Year after year debaters blaze and fadeScarce mark'd the dial ere departs the shade; Words die so soon when fit but to be said, Words only live when worthy to be read.
Already Fox is silent to our age, Burke quits the rostrum to illume the page. He did not waste his treasure as he went, But hoarded wealth to pile his monument. Now voice and manner can offend no more, And pure from dross shines out the golden oreDown to oblivion sinks each rude defect,
And soars anneal'd, the eternal intellect.
Thus is a torrent, if we stand too near,
Rough to the sight, and jarring to the ear;
But heard afar, when dubious of the way,
In paths perplex'd where forests dim the day,
Mellow'd from every discord, o'er the ground,
As from an unseen spirit, comes the sound-
That sound the step unconsciously obeys,
And, lured to light by music, threads the maze.
THE SUCCESSFUL POLITICIAN
Few, who at ease their Members' speeches read,
Guess the hard life of Members who succeed;
Pass by the waste of youthful golden days,
And the dread failure of the first essays--
Grant that the earlier steeps and sloughs are past,
And Fame's broad highway stretches smooth at last;
Grant the success, and now behold the pains:
Eleven to three-Committee upon Drains!
From three to five-self-commune and a chop;
From five to dawn-a bill to pass or stop;
Which, stopt or pass'd, leaves England much the same.
Alas for genius staked in such a game!
When as "the guerdon" in the grasp appears,
"Comes the blind Fury with the abhorred shears."
TRANSLATION FROM PROPERTIUS
Vex not the grave with tears: its shadows deep
Repulse the mourner and exclude the day;
The bourne is passed: cease, Paulus, cease to weep;
A gate of adamant hath barred the way.
Prayer dies in echoes 'mid these gloomy bowers,
And floats in vain round sullen Pluto's ear:
Prayer moves the Gods above: th' infernal powers
Nor list the suppliant voice, nor heed the tear.
Such were the truths taught by the trumpet's blare,
When o'er my bier curl'd up the funeral flame;
What booted then our troth, or lineage fair,
Or those bright pledges which have graced our name?
Could I thus 'scape from Fate's unbending laws?
No! five small fingers now may lift my dust.
All young and spotless let me plead my cause
To Æacus and Minos-stern, yet just.
If any maid could vaunt her sires in Rome,
Ancestral fame was mine on either side;
For Spain and Carthage deck'd with spoils the home
Where Scipio's blood was match'd with Libo's pride.
A girl, dear Paulus, on our wedding-day,
I wreath'd the bridal fillet in my hair:
And soon, too soon, in death thus snatch'd away,
No second name upon my tomb I bear.
|