II. 3 Woods, that wave o'er Delphi's steep,° Or where Mæander's amber waves How do your tuneful echoes languish,° Left their Parnassus for the Latian plains. And coward Vice, that revels in her chains. When Latium had her lofty spirit lost, They sought, oh Albion! next thy sea-encircled coast. III. 1 Far from the sun and summer-gale, In thy green lap was Nature's Darling laid, To him the mighty mother did unveil 85 "This pencil take, (she said,) whose colors clear Richly paint the vernal year: 90 Thine too these golden keys, immortal Boy! Of horror that, and thrilling fears, Or ope the sacred source of sympathetic tears." III. 2 Nor second He,° that rode sublime Upon the seraph-wings of Ecstasy, The secrets of the abyss to spy. He passed the flaming bounds of place and time: He saw; but, blasted with excess of light, Behold, where Dryden's less presumptuous car, Two coursers of ethereal race, O 100 105 With necks in thunder clothed, and long-resounding pace.° III. 3 Hark, his hands the lyre explore! Bright-eyed Fancy, hovering o'er, Scatters from her pictured urn Thoughts that breathe, and words that burn.° 110 But ah! 'tis heard no more° Oh! lyre divine, what daring spirit Wakes thee now? Though he inherit Nor the pride, nor ample pinion, Through the azure deep of air: Yet oft before his infant eyes would run Yet shall he mount, and keep his distant way° Beyond the limits of a vulgar° fate, 115 120 Beneath the Good how far- but far above the Great. THE BARD° I. 1 "RUIN seize thee, ruthless King! Confusion on thy banners wait; They mock the air with idle state.° Helm, nor hauberk's twisted mail,° Nor e'en thy virtues, Tyrant, shall avail To save thy secret soul from nightly fears, From Cambria's curse,° from Cambria's tears! Such were the sounds that o'er the crested pride° Of the first Edward scattered wild dismay, As down the steep of Snowdon's shaggy side° 5 10 He wound with toilsome march his long array. Stout Glo'ster stood aghast in speechless trance: "To arms!" cried Mortimer, and couched his quivering lance I. 2 On a rock, whose haughty brow Frowns o'er cold Conway's foaming flood, Robed in the sable garb of woe, With haggard eyes the poet stood; (Loose his beard, and hoary hair° 15 Streamed, like a meteor, to the troubled air,)° 20 And with a master's hand, and prophet's fire, Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre. "Hark, how each giant-oak, and desert cave, Sighs to the torrent's awful voice beneath! O'er thee, oh King! their hundred arms they wave. Revenge on thee in hoarser murmurs breathe; Vocal no more, since Cambria's fatal day, 24 To high-born Hoel's harp, or soft Llewellyn's lay.° I. 3 "Cold is Cadwallo's tongue, That hushed the stormy main: Brave Urien sleeps upon his craggy bed: Mountains, ye mourn in vain Modred, whose magic song Made huge Plinlimmon° bow his cloud-topt head. O Dear as the light that visits these sad eyes, 309 35 40 Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my heart,° On yonder cliffs, a griesly band, I see them sit, they linger yet, 45 And weave with bloody hands the tissue of thy line. II. 1 "Weave the warp, and weave the woof,° The winding-sheet of Edward's race. Give ample room, and verge enough The characters of hell to trace. 50 The shrieks of death, through Berkley's roof that ring, Shrieks of an agonizing king! She-wolf of France,° with unrelenting fangs, That tearest the bowels of thy mangled mate, 55 From thee be born, who o'er thy country hangs The scourge of heaven. What terrors round him wait! Amazement in his van, with flight combined, 66 II. 2 Mighty victor, mighty lord! Low on his funeral couch he lies?' 60 |