LXXXVII.

A Poet, mounted on the Court-Clown's back,
Rode to the Princess swift with spurring heels,
And close into her face, with rhyming clack,
Began a Prothalamion ;-she reels,

She falls, she faints!-while laughter peals
Over her woman's weakness. "Where!" cried I,
"Where is his Majesty ?" No person feels
Inclined to answer; wherefore instantly
I plunged into the crowd to find him or to die.

LXXXVIII.

Jostling my way I gain'd the stairs, and ran
To the first landing, where, incredible!
I met, far gone in liquor, that old man,
That vile impostor Hum,-

So far so well,

For we have proved the Mago never fell
Down stairs on Crafticanto's evidence;
And therefore duly shall proceed to tell,
Plain in our own original mood and tense,

The sequel of this day, though labor 'tis immense!

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.

ODE TO APOLLO.

I.

IN thy western halls of gold

When thou sittest in thy state,
Bards that erst sublimely told

Heroic deeds, and sang of fate,

With fervor seize their adamantine lyres, Whose chords are solid rays, and twinkle radiant fires.

II.

Here Homer with his nervous arms
Strikes the twanging harp of war,
And even the western splendor warms,
While the trumpets sound afar:

But, what creates the most intense surprise,
His soul looks out through renovated eyes.

III.

Then, through thy Temple wide, melodious swells
The sweet majestic tone of Maro's lyre:
The soul delighted on each accent dwells,—
Enraptured dwells,-not daring to respire,
The while he tells of grief around a funeral pyre.

IV.

"Tis awful silence then again;

Expectant stand the spheres;
Breathless the laurel'd peers,

Nor move, till ends the lofty strain,

Nor move till Milton's tuneful thunders cease, And leave once more the ravish'd heavens in peace.

V.

Thou biddest Shakspeare wave his hand,

And quickly forward spring

The Passions-a terrific band—

And each vibrates the string

That with its tyrant temper best accords,

While from their Master's lips pour forth the inspiring words.

VI.

A silver trumpet Spenser blows,

And, as its martial notes to silence flee,

From a virgin chorus flows

A hymn in praise of spotless Chastity.

"Tis still! Wild warblings from the Eolian lyre Enchantment softly breathe, and tremblingly expire.

VII.

Next thy Tasso's ardent numbers
Float along the pleased air,
Calling youth from idle slumbers,

Rousing them from pleasure's lair :—
Then o'er the strings his fingers gently move,
And melt the soul to pity and to love.

VIII.

But when Thou joinest with the Nine,
And all the powers of song combine,

We listen here on earth:

The dying tones that fill the air,

And charm the ear of evening fair,

From thee, great God of Bards, receive their heavenly birth.

Feb. 1815.

HYMN TO APOLLO.

GOD of the golden bow,

And of the golden lyre,
And of the golden hair,
And of the golden fire,
Charioteer

Of the patient year,

Where where slept thine ire,

When like a blank idiot I put on thy wreath,

Thy laurel, thy glory,

The light of thy story,

Or was I a worm-too low crawling, for death?
O Delphic Apollo !

The Thunderer grasp'd and grasp'd,
The Thunderer frown'd and frown'd;

The eagle's feathery mane

For wrath became stiffen'd-the sound
Of breeding thunder

Went drowsily under,
Muttering to be unbound.

O why didst thou pity, and for a worm
Why touch thy soft lute

Till the thunder was mute,

Why was not I crush'd-such a pitiful germ? O Delphic Apollo!

The Pleiades were up,

Watching the silent air;

The seeds and roots in the Earth
Were swelling for summer fare;
The Ocean, its neighbor,

Was at its old labor,
When, who-who did dare

To tie, like a madman, thy plant round his brow,
And grin and look proudly,

And blaspheme so loudly,

And live for that honor, to stoop to thee now?
O Delphic Apollo !

ON

THINK not of it, sweet one, so ;—

Give it not a tear;

Sigh thou mayst, and bid it go

Any-any where.

Do not look so sad, sweet one,

Sad and fadingly;

Shed one drop (and only one),
Oh! 'twas born to die!

Still so pale? then dearest weep;

Weep, I'll count the tears,
For each will I invent a bliss

For thee in after years.