English

VISION FIRST .

A WIDOWED father from the holy fount
Of Christian sprinkling bore his first-born babe
Home through the Sabbath noon. And aye his hand
Arranged the garment in a lighter fold
To overshade that breathing face upturned,
Yet let it freely drink the vital air.
And oft scarce walked he in his gaze intent,
That fed on his boy's face,
Come out of his own loins,
Formed in the painful side
Of a dear mother — gone to barren dust.

Morning.

Yon ridge of trees against the frosty east
Of Morn, how thin, how fine, how spiritualised
Their fringe of naked branches, and of twigs,
Distinct, though multitudinous and small!
Still rarified, they seem about to be
Consumed to nothing in the candent glow
Breathed up before the Sun. Lo! in their stems
His ruddy disc; and now the rayless orb,
Round and entire, is up, on the fixed eye
Dilating, swimming with uncertain poise
From side to side — a great red globe of fire.

CANTO V .

THE FIRE .

Behold Zenone, as she sits by night,
All pale and pensive in her cloud of white!
Her faithful eunuch came; absorbed in thought,
Her eyes she raised not, and she saw him not.
But Melki bowed and kissed her silken feet,
Raised back his withered brow her eye to meet,
Then seized her hand. She started: " Slave! " she said,
" I know thee faithful, but I'm past thy aid.
Why com'st thou, then? Away! I love thee not,

A ID me, — some honest sister of the Nine,
Who ne'er paid court at Flattery's fulsome shrine,
A youth enlighten with thy keenest fires,
Who dares proclaim whate'er the Muse inspires,
By squint-ey'd Prejudice, or love inclin'd,
No partial ties shall here enslave the mind:
Though fancy sport in fiction's pleasing guise,
Truth, still conspicuous, through the veil shall rise;
No bribe or stratagem shall here take place,
Though (strange to tell!) — the subject is a Race.

ADDRESS TO THE CRITICS .

Y E puny things, who self-important sit
The sovereign arbiters of monthly wit;
Who, gnatling-like, your stings around dispense,
And feed on excrements of sickly sense;
Ye gentle Critics, whom, by Fancy led,
My Pegasus has kick'd upon the head,
Who, zealous to decry the' injurious strain,
While Common-sense has bled at every vein;
Bewilder'd wander on, with idiot-pride,
Without or wit or grammar for your guide;
Behold! again I blot the' envenom'd page,

PART THIRD

Forth Cathla went, Roscrana by her side
But now they heard — the air was all so still —
Trumpet and horn beyond the mountains wide
The shouts of battle, as they climb the hill,
With hope and fear their panting bosoms fill.
Yon valley now! Their eyes how eager bent!
O day of safety, or of endless ill!

PART SECOND

In Morven's woody land, Roscrana kissed
Her Torthil's mother at her tale amazed;
Then lowly bowed the virgin to be blest: —
" My far-come daughter! " Cathla said, and raised,
And still with wonder on the lady gazed,
" If thou indeed art Torthil's chosen bride;
Yea, well that forehead's beauty undebased

PART FIRST .

Y OUNG Torthil sits below the woody steeps
Of Apennine, beneath a spreading oak.
His downcast eye a stern abstraction keeps;
Dawn not for him with purple stains has broke,
Nor sunshine filled the world: the captive's yoke
Is on his heart — bright things are not for him.
The cloudy day, the high-winged tempest's shock

GLORY .

But oh, adventrous Muse, restrain thy flight,
Dare not the blaze of uncreated light!
Before whose glorious throne with dread surprise
The' adoring seraph veils his dazzled eyes;
Whose pure effulgence, radiant to excess,
No colours can describe, or words express!
All the fair beauties, all the lucid stores,
Which o'er thy works thy hand resplendent pours,
Feeble, thy brighter glories to display,
Pale as the moon before the solar ray!

RECTITUDE .

Hence distant far, ye sons of Earth profane,
The loose, ambitious, covetous, or vain:
Ye worms of pow'r! ye minion'd slaves of state,
The wanton vulgar, and the sordid great!
But come, ye purer souls, from dross refin'd,
The blameless heart and uncorrupted mind!
Let your chaste hands the holy altars raise,
Fresh incense bring, and light the glowing blaze,
Your grateful voices aid the Muse to sing
The spotless justice of the' Almighty King!