The host of heaven exult in strength divine:
Here stands the monarch of devouring flame;
Here heavenly Juno, armed with heavenly might;
And there the youthful beauteous God of light;
Castalia's dew-gems round his ringlets shine,
Celestial glory sparkles through his frame,
While Lycian groves re-echo to his name.
The Titans fell;-for how could brutal force
Destroy the fountain spring of all that's wise;
Dry up the sea of knowledge, love and joy,
Of boundless power to save or to destroy;
Arrest that mighty ocean in its course,
Disarm the dreaded Thunderer of the skies,
Or hope above infinitude to rise!
For so the hundred-handed Gyas fell;
Lustful Orion,-chaste Diana's foe-
Swift from the virgin's piercing arrow fled:
But th' unerring archer laid him dead :-
The light'ning's storm pursued the rest to hell;
And Earth, which chains him down to fire below,
Groans, while she sees her children's overthrow!
In vain they strive, in vain they tug their chains,
Altho' the eating fire for ever glows,
By vultures torn, the heart of Tityus lies,
All undiminished Ætna's summits rise,
A hundred triple bands to fiery pain
Confine Pirithoüs, with eternal blows,
And scorpion-lashes leave him no repose.
Nor in Pieria's grot, O heavenly muse,
Nor round the fabled throne of sov'reign Jove,
Nor near old Athens' classic groves art thou :-
But thou art all around me: I hear thy voice
Amid the howlings of the tempests' cry,
Or in the zephyrs softly whispering—
Thee in the waving trees, the glittering streams—
Thee in the billowy ocean's loudest roar—
Thee in the gentle harp's mellifluous sound—
Thee in the thunder roaring o'er the sky-
And thee I find amid the mountain tops,
Or polish'd plains, or heathery hillocks wild!
Thee I invok'd, when first I undertook
The high emprise of following angel-wing,
Or one that soar'd high as angel in
expanse of thought. And now my work is done.
Shall I be thankless, if, upon my head
Be plac'd the laurel crown of victory?
Or tho' no laurel deck my humble lay,
Shall I be thankless; if I have transfus'd
Its bright effulgence from one noble line
Of thy most favor'd child, or breath'd his soul
Into the grandeur of my native tongue?
During the same summer, (while he was between fourteen and fifteen) he began "THE WIZARD,"a most wild, imaginative production. Its plot, as far as it goes, is rather inartificial ; and I am unable to say what he intended as the catastrophe; for he proceeded only through a part of his plan. The fragment consists of somewhat more than a thousand lines; and it is written in three different stanzas. I shall not offer an analysis of the imperfect poem, but give a specimen of his versification from each part.
THERE was a glen of dreaded fame
On England's northern shore,
Whose horrid rock's extremest point
Withstood the ocean's roar.
To enter it would dare,
He might behold the roaring waves
In dread confusion there.
But no one dared the entrance dire,
With craggy rocks o'erhung;
And never there had human voice,
Or human footsteps rung:-
Except that in a dismal grot
An aged man did dwell:
Above him, groan'd the mountain flood, Beneath, the gates of hell.
And ever on a mystic staff
The ancient sinner bends,
While far below his snow-white zone
His silvery beard descends.
One vernal morning, as the sun
His flaming chariot roll'd,
And bound upon Aurora's brow
Her diadem of gold;
And day, that over all the sky
Its sparkling joy display'd,
Had fore'd a kind of gloomy light
Athwart the dreadful shade ;-
The gilded waves, rejoicing, wish'd To kiss the smiling shore;
And ev'n the mountain cataract
More softly seem'd to roar.
The Wizard only wretched lay
Beside a brook that stole
Betwixt the aged mountains grey,
Its crystals smile to meet the day, ..
And bless her as they roll.
"The gentle air that breathes on all
"So innocently free,
"And carries to the bounding heart
"A sense of liberty:
"This tortures me. If fiery streams "Across the land would flow,
"Or if the Simoom's breath of flame.
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