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Keep their most solemn vigils when the Clouds
Watch also, shifting peaceably their place
Like bands of ministering Spirits, or when they lie,
As if some Protean art the change had wrought,
In listless quiet o'er the ethereal deep
Scattered, a Cyclades of various shapes
And all degrees of beauty. Oye Lightnings!
Ye are their perilous offspring; and the Sun -
Source inexhaustible of life and joy,
And type of man's far-darting reason, therefore
In old time worshipped as the god of verse,
A blazing intellectual deity —
Loves his own glory in their looks, and showers
Upon that unsubstantial brotherhood
Visions with all but beatific light
Enriched, — too transient were they not renewed
From age to age, and did not, while we gaze
In silent rapture, credulous desire
Nourish the hope that memory lacks not power
To keep the treasure unimpaired. Vain thought!
Yet why repine, created as we are
For joy and rest, albeit to find them only
Lodged in the bosom of eternal things ?

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The gentlest Poet, with free thoughts endowed,
And a true master of the glowing strain,
Might scan the narrow province with disdain
That to the Painter's skill is here allowed.
This, this the Bird of Paradise ! disclaim
The daring thought, forget the name;
This the Sun's Bird, whom Glendoveers might own
As no unworthy Partner in their flight
Through seas of ether, where the ruffling sway
Of nether air's rude billows is unknown;
Whom Sylphs, if e'er for casual pastime they
Through India's spicy regions wing their way,
Might bow to as their Lord. What character,
O sovereign Nature! I appeal to thee,
Of all thy feathered progeny
Is so unearthly, and what shape so fair ?
So richly decked in variegated down,
Green, sable, shining yellow, shadowy brown,
Tints softly with each other blended,
Hues doubtfully begun and ended;
Or intershooting, and to sight
Lost and recovered, as the rays of light
Glance on the conscious plumes touched here and

Full surely, when with such proud gifts of life

Began the pencil's strife,
O’erweening Art was caught as in a snare.

A sense of seemingly presumptuous wrong Gave the first impulse to the Poet's song; But, of his scorn repenting soon, he drew A juster judgment from a calmer view; And, with a spirit freed from discontent, Thankfully took an effort that was meant Not with God's bounty, Nature's love, to vie, Or made with hope to please that inward eye Which ever strives in vain itself to satisfy, But to recall the truth by some faint trace Of power ethereal and celestial grace, That in the living Creature find on earth a place,



GENIUS of Raphael ! if thy wings

Might bear thee to this glen,
With faithful memory left of things

To pencil dear and pen,
Thou wouldst forego the neighboring Rhine,

And all his majesty,
A studious forehead to incline

O’er this poor family.

The Mother, — her thou must have seen,

In spirit, ere she came
To dwell these rifted rocks between,

Or found on earth a name;
An image, too, of that sweet Boy,

Thy inspirations give, —
Of playfulness, and love, and joy,

Predestined here to live.

Downcast, or shooting glances far,

How beautiful his eyes,
That blend the nature of the star

With that of summer skies !
I speak as if of sense beguiled;

Uncounted months are gone, Yet am I with the Jewish Child,

That exquisite Saint John.

I see the dark brown curls, the brow,

The smooth, transparent skin,
Refined, as with intent to show

The holiness within ;
The grace of parting Infancy

By blushes yet untamed ;
Age faithful to the mother's knee,

Nor of her arms ashamed.

Two lovely Sisters, still and sweet

As flowers, stand side by side;
Their soul-subduing looks might cheat

The Christian of his pride :

Such beauty hath the Eternal poured

Upon them not forlorn,
Though of a lineage once abhorred,

Nor yet redeemed from scorn.

Mysterious safeguard, that, in spite

Of poverty and wrong,
Doth here preserve a living light,

From Hebrew fountains sprung;
That gives this ragged group to cast

Around the dell a gleam
Of Palestine, of glory past,

And proud Jerusalem !

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The Ear addressed, as occupied by a spiritual functionary, in

communion with sounds, individual, or combined in studied harmony. - Sources and effects of those sounds (to the close of 6th Stanza). — The power of music, whence proceeding, exemplified in the idiot. — Origin of music, and its effect in early ages, - how produced (to the middle of 10th Stanza). — The mind recalled to sounds acting casually and severally. - Wish uttered (11th Stanza) that these could be united into a scheme or system for moral interests and intellectual contemplation. — (Stanza 12th.) The Pythagorean

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