III.

MINE be the strength of spirit, full and free,
Like some broad river rushing down alone,
With the selfsame impulse wherewith he was thrown
From his loud fount upon the echoing lea:-
Which with increasing might doth forward flee
By town, and tower, and hill, and cape, and isle,
And in the middle of the green salt sea
Keeps his blue waters fresh for many a mile.
Mine be the power which ever to its sway
Will win the wise at once, and by degrees
May into uncongenial spirits flow;
Ev'n as the warm gulf-stream of Florida
Floats far away into the Northern seas
The lavish growths of southern Mexico.

IV.

ALEXANDER.

WARRIOR of God, whose strong right arm debased
The throne of Persia, when her Satrap bled
At Issus by the Syrian gates, or fled
Beyond the Memmian naphtha-pits, disgraced
For ever the (thy pathway sand-erased)
Gliding with equal crowns two serpents led

Joyful to that palm-planted fountain-fed
Ammonian Oasis in the waste.

There in a silent shade of laurel brown

Apart the Chamian Oracle divine
Shelter'd his unapproached mysteries:

High things were spoken there, unhanded down;
Only they saw thee from the secret shrine
Returning with hot cheek and kindled eyes.

BUONAPARTE.

He thought to quell the stubborn hearts of oak, Madman!-to chain with chains, and bind with bands That island queen who sways the floods and lands From Ind to Ind, but in fair daylight woke,

When from her wooden walls,-lit by sure hands,—
With thunders, and with lightnings, and with smoke,—
Peal after peal, the British battle broke,

Lulling the brine against the Coptic sands.
We taught him lowlier moods, when Elsinore
Heard the war moan along the distant sea,
Rocking with shatter'd spars, with sudden fires
Flamed over: at Trafalgar yet once more

We taught him: late he learned humility

Perforce, like those whom Gideon school'd with

briers.

VI.

POLAND.

How long, O God, shall men be ridden down,
And trampled under by the last and least
Of men? The heart of Poland hath not ceased
To quiver, tho' her sacred blood doth drown
The fields, and out of every smouldering town
Cries to Thee, lest brute Power be increased,
Till that o'ergrown Barbarian in the East

Transgress his ample bound to some new crown:—
Cries to Thee, 'Lord, how long shall these things be?
How long this icy-hearted Muscovite

Oppress the region?' Us, O Just and Good,

Forgive, who smiled when she was torn in three; Us, who stand now, when we should aid the right— A matter to be wept with tears of blood!

VII.

CARESS'D or chidden by the slender hand,
And singing airy trifles this or that,

Light Hope at Beauty's call would perch and stand,
And run thro' every change of sharp and flat;

And Fancy came and at her pillow sat,
When Sleep had bound her in his rosy band,
And chased away the still-recurring gnat,
And woke her with a lay from fairy land.
But now they live with Beauty less and less,
For Hope is other Hope and wanders far,
Nor cares to lisp in love's delicious creeds;
And Fancy watches in the wilderness,
Poor Fancy sadder than a single star,

That sets at twilight in a land of reeds.