der be of the description just mentioned, and shall settle himself with his book in a comfortable arm-chair condition,-in winter perhaps, with the lights at his shoulder, and his feet on a good fender,-in summer, with a window open to a smoothing air, and the consciousness of some green trees about him,-and in both instances, (if he can muster up so much poetical accompaniment) with a lady beside him,-the author does not despair of converting him into a very sufficient and satisfied kind of theatre. ODE FOR THE SPRING OF 1814*, THE vision then is past, That held the eyes of nations, Swept in his own careering blast, That far and wide, metallic twilight, shone; Leap in their fiery passion forth; We look'd, and saw the Wonder on his throne; We rais'd our eyes again, and lo, his place was gone. Nor did the Shape give way To mightier spirits like him, Nor did upon that final day Elder Corruption strike him. From the Examiner of April the 17th, 1814. The long-taught world no more Those idle. charms explore, Nor call on evil to restore from ill; But heav'n-ward things, that have their birth Experience, Truth, and Conquest of the will, These took the Troubler's place, and bade the Plague be still. Never did sweeter sound From discord drop resolving, Than struck the balanc'd world around Once more set smooth revolving; And princely visions rare, Went stepping through the air, With frank eyes listening to the glassy spheres ; The Eagles of the north were seen Sailing the sunny doves between ; The Lily whiten'd from it's dust with tears; And Hopes with lifted smiles, and holy-minded Fears. And lo, how earth and sky, As if the charm completing, From winter's other tyranny Revive and give us greeting. But's up upon the wing; The leaves put out their hands into the ray; Comes for his kiss from flow'r to flow'r; The soldier sheathes his sword, To see the babe that feeds At her dear breast with sudden-stopping moan; But while his earnest task he plies, Gath'ring his little hand into her own, And feels that in the world she shall not be alone. O Liberty! O breath Of all that's true existence ! Thou at whose touch the soul, at death, But leaps to joy and distance; Before thy present call, The very captive's wall, If wrongly round him, like a curtain flies; The skim of birds, and the blue-doming skies, And sits with smile at heart, and patience-levell'd eyes. |