Obrazy na stronie

Man is of soul and body, formed for deeds
Of high resolve ; on fancy's boldest wing
To soar unwearied, fearlessly to turn
The keenest pangs to peacefulness, and taste
The joys which mingled sense and spirit yield.
Or he is formed for abjectness and woe,
To grovel on the dunghill of his fears,
To shrink at every sound, to quench the flame
Of natural love in sensualism, to know
That hour as blessed when on his worthless days
The frozen hand of Death shall set its seal,
Yet fear the cure, though hating the disease.

he one is man that shall hereafter be ;
The other, man as vice has made him now.


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War is the statesman's game, the priest's delight,
The lawyer's jest, the hired assassin's trade ;
And, to those royal murderers whose mean thrones.
Are bought by crimes of treachery and gore,
he bread they eat, the staff on which they lean.

ards, garbed in blood-red livery, surround
heir palaces, participate the crimes
That force defends, and from a nation's rage
secure the crown which all the curses reach

lat famine, frenzy, woe, and penury, breathe.
hese are the hired bravos who defend
he tyrant's throne—the bullies of his fear :
These are the sinks and channels of worst vice,
The refuse of society, the dregs

all that is most vile : their cold hearts blend
eceit with sternness, ignorance with pride,
I that is mean and villanous with rage

Ich hopelessness of good and self-contempt
One might kindle. They are decked in wealth,
nour, and power ; then are sent abroad

do their work. The pestilence that stalks
gloomy triumph through some eastern land
ess destroying. They cajole with gold,
"Promises of fame, the thoughtless youth
eady crushed with servitude : he knows

wretchedness too late, and cherishes
pentance for his ruin, when his doom

Of a


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And promises 0 Already crush His wretche


Is sealed in gold and blood !
Those too the tyrant serve, who, skilled to snare
The feet of Justice in the toils of law,
Stand ready to oppress the weaker still;
And right or wrong will vindicate for gold,
Sneering at Public Virtue, which beneath
Their pitiless tread lies torn and trampled, where
Honour sits smiling at the sale of truth.

Then grave and hoary-headed hypocrites,
Without a hope, a passion, or a love,
Who, through a life of luxury and lies,
Have crept by flattery to the seats of power,
Support the system whence their honours flow.
They have three words (well tyrants know their use,
Well pay them for the loan, with usury
Torn from a bleeding world )- God, Hell, and Heaven.
A vengeful, pitiless, and almighty fiend,
Whose mercy is a nickname for the rage
Of tameless tigers hungering for blood :
Hell, a red gulf of everlasting fire,
Where poisonous and undying worms prolong
Eternal misery to those hapless slaves
Whose life has been a penance for its crimes :
And Heaven, a meed for those who dare belie
Their human nature, quake, believe, and cringe
Before the mockeries of earthly power.

These tools the tyrant tempers to his work,
Wields in his wrath, and, as he wills, destroys,
Omnipotent in wickedness : the while
Youth springs, age moulders, manhood tamely does
His bidding, bribed by short-lived joys to lend
Force to the weakness of his trembling arm.
They rise, they fall ; one generation comes,
Yielding its harvest to destruction's scythe.
It fades, another blossoms : yet behold!
Red glows the tyrant's stamp-mark on its bloom,
Withering and cankering deep its passive prime.
He has invented lying words and modes,
Empty and vain as his own coreless heart; i
Evasive meanings, nothings of much sound,

To lure the heedless victim to the toils
Spread round the valley of its paradise.

Look to thyself, priest, conqueror, or prince !
Whether thy trade is falsehood, and thy lusts
Deep wallow in the earnings of the poor,
With whom thy Master was ; or thou delight'st
In numbering o'er the myriads of thy slain,
All misery weighing nothing in the scale
Against thy short-lived fame ; or thou dost load
With cowardice and crime the groaning land,
A pomp-fed king. Look to thy wretched self!
Ay, art thou not the veriest slave that e'er
Crawled on the loathing earth? Are not thy days
Days of unsatisfying listlessness ?

thou not cry, ere night's long rack is o'er, “Wh

When will the morning come?” Is not thy youth I vain and feverish dream of sensualism ? hy manhood blighted with unripe disease? re not thy views of unregretted death rear, comfortless, and horrible? Thy mind,

it not morbid as thy nerveless frame, incapable of judgment, hope, or love? a dost thou wish the errors to survive

t bar thee from all sympathies of good, After the miserable interest

u hold'st in their protraction? When the grave
wallowed up thy memory and thyself,
thou desire the bane that poisons earth
Wine its roots around thy coffined clay,
ning from thy bones, and blossom on thy tomb,

of its fruit thy babes may eat and die ?




Has swallowed
Dost t

That o


Go to the grave, a
Surviving still the
That renovates
Which the keen
For many season
(Loading with

do the generations of the earth
the grave, and issue from the womb,
ning still the imperishable change
enovates the world. Even as the leaves

the keen frost-wind of the waning year cattered on the forest soil, and heaped many seasons there, though long they choke

ng with loathsome rottenness the land)

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All germs of promise, yet, when the tall trees
From which they fell, shorn of their lovely shapes,
Lie level with the earth to moulder there,
They fertilize the land they long deformed,
Till from the breathing lawn a forest springs
Of youth, integrity, and loveliness,
Like that which gave it life, to spring and die :-
Thus suicidal Selfishness, that blights
The fairest feelings of the opening heart,
Is destined to decay, whilst from the soil
Shall spring all virtue, all delight, all love,
And judgment cease to wage unnatural war
With passion's unsubduable array.
Twin-sister of Religion, Selfishness,
Rival in crime and falsehood, aping all
The wanton horrors of her bloody play;
Yet frozen, unimpassioned, spiritless,
Shunning the light, and owning not its name;
Compelled by its deformity to screen
With Aimsy veil of justice and of right
Its unattractive lineaments that scare
All save the brood of ignorance ; at once
The cause and the effect of tyranny ;
Unblushing, hardened, sensual, and vile;
Dead to all love but of its abjectness,
With heart impassive by more noble powers
Than unshared pleasure, sordid gain, or fame :
Despising its own miserable being,
Which still it longs, yet fears, to disenthrall.

Hence commerce springs, the venal interchange
Of all that human art or nature yield;
Which wealth should purchase not, but want demand,
And natural kindness hasten to supply
From the full fountain of its boundless love.
For ever stifled, drained, and tainted now.
Commerce, beneath whose poison-breathing shade
No solitary virtue dares to spring;
But Poverty and Wealth with equal hand
Scatter their withering curses, and unfold
The doors of premature and violent death
To pining famine and full-fed disease,


To all that shares the lot of human life;
Which-poisoned, body and soul-scarce drags the chain
That lengthens as it goes, and clanks behind.

Commerce has set the mark of selfishness,
The signet of its all-enslaving power,
Upon a shining ore, and called it gold ;
Before whose image bow the vulgar great,
The vainly rich, the miserable proud,
The mob of peasants, nobles, priests, and kings,
And with blind feelings reverence the power
That grinds them to the dust of misery.
But in the temple of their hireling hearts
Gold is a living god, and rules in scorn

All earthly things but virtue.



His 1

Th These pupp (Even as th

Since tyrants, by the sale of human life,
leap luxuries to their sensualism, and fame

their wide-wasting and insatiate pride,
ccess has sanctioned to a credulous world
le ruin, the disgrace, the woe, of war.
s hosts of blind and unresisting dupes
le despot numbers ; from his cabinet
se puppets of his schemes he moves at will
en as the slaves by force or famine driven
neath a vulgar master) to perform
task of cold and brutal drudgery ;-
lardened to hope, insensible to fear,
arce living pulleys of a dead machine,
ere wheels of work and articles of trade,
at grace the proud and noisy pomp of wealth !


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Mere Whee

The harmony a
Yield to the wea
His nature to t
Is bartered 1
The weight th
Blighting all pro
Withering all p
Of enterprise
That fancy kl

harmony and happiness of man
d to the wealth of nations; that which lifts
5 nature to the heaven of its pride
artered for the poison of his soul,

weight that drags to earth his towering hopes ;
iting all prospect but of selfish gain,
ering all passion but of slavish fear,

guishing all free and generous love
enterprise and daring. Even the pulse

lancy kindles in the beating heart

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