Has seen above the illimitable plain, Morning on night, and night on morning rise,

Whilst still no land to greet the wanderer
spread

Where matter dared not vegetate or live,
But ceaseless frost round the vast solitude Its shadowy mountains on
Bound its broad zone of stillness, are

The bellowing monster, and the rushing Like passion's fruit, the nightshade's storm, tempting bane Now to the sweet and many-mingling Poisons no more the pleasure it bestows: All bitterness is past; the cup of joy Unmingled mantles to the goblet's brim, And courts the thirsty lips it fled before.

sounds

Of kindliest human impulses respond. Those lonely realms bright garden-isles begem,

With lightsome clouds and shining seas

between,

And fertile valleys, resonant with bliss,
Whilst green woods overcanopy the

wave,

Which like a toil-worn labourer leaps

to shore,

But chief, ambiguous man, he that can know

More misery, and dream more joy than all;

Whose keen sensations thrill within his breast

To mingle with a loftier instinct there, To meet the kisses of the flowrets there. Lending their power to pleasure and to

All things are recreated, and the flame
Of consentaneous love inspires all life :
The fertile bosom of the earth gives suck
To myriads, who still grow beneath her

care,

Rewarding her with their pure perfect

ness:

The balmy breathings of the wind inhale
Her virtues, and diffuse them all abroad:
Health floats amid the gentle atmosphere,
Glows in the fruits, and mantles on the

stream:

No storms deform the beaming brow of
heaven,

Nor scatter in the freshness of its pride
The foliage of the ever-verdant trees;
But fruits are ever ripe, flowers ever fair,
And autumn proudly bears her matron
grace,

Kindling a flush on the fair cheek of
spring,

Whose virgin bloom beneath the ruddy fruit

Reflects its tint and blushes into love.

The lion now forgets to thirst for blood:
There might you see him sporting in the

sun

Beside the dreadless kid; his claws are sheathed,

His teeth are harmless, custom's force

has made

His nature as the nature of a lamb.

pain,

Yet raising, sharpening, and refining

each;

Who stands amid the ever-varying
world,

The burthen or the glory of the earth;
He chief perceives the change, his being

notes

The gradual renovation, and defines Each movement of its progress on his mind.

Man, where the gloom of the long polar night

Lowers o'er the snow-clad rocks and frozen soil,

Where scarce the hardiest herb that braves the frost

Basks in the moonlight's ineffectual glow,

Shrank with the plants, and darkened with the night;

His chilled and narrow energies, his
heart,

Insensible to courage, truth, or love,
His stunted stature and imbecile frame,
Marked him for some abortion of the
earth,

Fit compeer of the bears that roamed
around,

Whose habits and enjoyments were his

Own:

His life a feverish dream of stagnant

woe,

Scattered the seeds of pestilence, and Here now the human being stands

fed

Unnatural vegetation, where the land
Teemed with all earthquake, tempest
and disease,

Was man a nobler being; slavery
Had crushed him to his country's blood-
stained dust;

Or he was bartered for the fame of

power,

Which all internal impulses destroying,
Makes human will an article of trade;
Or he was changed with Christians for
their gold,

This

adorning

loveliest earth with taintless body and mind;

Blest from his birth with all bland im-
pulses,

Which gently in his noble bosom wake
All kindly passions and all pure desires.
Him, still from hope to hope the bliss
pursuing

Which from the exhaustless lore of
human weal

Draws on the virtuous mind, the thoughts that rise

And dragged to distant isles, where to In time-destroying infiniteness, gift

the sound

With self-enshrined eternity, that mocks

Of the flesh-mangling scourge, he does The unprevailing hoariness of age,

the work

Of all-polluting luxury and wealth,
Which doubly visits on the tyrants'

heads

And man, once fleeting o'er the transient

scene

Swift as an unremembered vision, stands
Immortal upon earth: no longer now

The long-protracted fulness of their He slays the lamb that looks him in the

Kindled all putrid humours in his frame,
All evil passions, and all vain belief,
Hatred, despair, and loathing in his
mind,

Whose rays, diffused throughout all space and time,

Verge to one point and blend for ever there :

The germs of misery, death, disease, and Of purest spirits thou pure dwelling

crime.

No longer now the wingèd habitants,
That in the woods their sweet lives sing

away,

Flee from the form of man; but gather round,

And prune their sunny feathers on the

hands

Which little children stretch in friendly sport

place!

Where care and sorrow, impotence and

crime,

Languor, disease, and ignorance dare

not come :

O happy Earth, reality of Heaven!

Genius has seen thee in her passionate dreams,

And dim forebodings of thy loveliness Towards these dreadless partners of their Haunting the human heart, have there

play.

All things are void of terror: man has lost
His terrible prerogative, and stands
An equal amidst equals: happiness
And science dawn though late upon the
earth;

entwined

Those rooted hopes of some sweet place

of bliss

Where friends and lovers meet to part

no more.

Thou art the end of all desire and will, Peace cheers the mind, health renovates The product of all action; and the souls That by the paths of an aspiring change Disease and pleasure cease to mingle Have reached thy haven of perpetual here, peace,

the frame;

Reason and passion cease to combat There rest from the eternity of toil
That framed the fabric of thy perfect-

Throng through the human universe, Yon monarch, in his solitary pomp, Was but the mushroom of a summer day,

aspire;

Thou consummation of all mortal hope!

Thou glorious prize of blindly-working That his light-wingèd footstep pressed

will!

S

to dust:

D

Time was the king of earth: (all things Died in the human frame, and purity Blest with all gifts her earthly wor

gave way

Before him, but the fixed and virtuous

will, y

The sacred sympathies of soul and sense, That mocked his fury and prepared his fall.

Yet slow and gradual dawned the morn of love;

scene,

Long lay the clouds of darkness o'er the On all the mingling lineaments of time. How lovely the intrepid front of youth! Till from its native heaven they rolled Which meek-eyed courage decked with freshest grace;

away: First, crime triumphant o'er all hope Courage of soul, that dreaded not a

careered

name,

Unblushing, undisguising, bold and And elevated will, that journeyed on Through life's phantasmal scene in fear

strong;

Whilst falsehood, tricked in virtue's

attributes,

Long sanctified all deeds of vice and woe, Till done by her own venomous sting to death,

She left the moral world without a law, No longer fettering passion's fearless wing,

God.

lessness,

With virtue, love, and pleasure, hand in hand.

Then, that sweet bondage which is free-
dom's self,

And rivets with sensation's softest tie
The kindred sympathies of human souls,

Nor searing reason with the brand of Needed no fetters of tyrannic law:
Those delicate and timid impulses
In nature's primal modesty arose,
And with undoubted confidence dis-
closed

Then steadily the happy ferment worked;
Reason was free; and wild though pas-

sion went

Through tangled glens and wood-em- The growing longings of its dawning

Gathering a garland of the strangest Unchecked by dull and selfish chastity,

flowers,

Yet like the bee returning to her queen,
She bound the sweetest on her sister's

brow,

That virtue of the cheaply virtuous, Who pride themselves in senselessness and frost.

No longer prostitution's venomed bane Who meek and sober kissed the sportive Poisoned the springs of happiness and

No longer trembling at the broken rod. Woman and man, in confidence and love,