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The clouds that gather round the setting By objects, which might force the soul

to abate Do take a sober coloring from an eye Her feeling, rendered more compassionThat hath kept watch o'er man's mortal ate; ity;

Is placable--because occasions rise Another race hath been, and other palms So often that demand such sacrifice;

More skilful in self-knowledge, even more Thanks to the human heart by which we pure, live,

As tempted more; more able to endure, Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and As more exposed to suffering and disfears,

tress; To me the meanest flower that blows can Thence, also, more alive to tenderness. give

'Tis he whose law is reason; who deThoughts that do often lie too deep for pends tears.

Upon that law as on the best of friends;

Whence, in a state where men are tempted CHARACTER OF THE HAPPY

still WARRIOR

To evil for a guard against worse ill, (1806)

And what in quality or act is best

Doth seldom on a right foundation rest, Who is the happy warrior? Who is he He labors good on good to fix, and owes That every man in arms should wish to To virtue every triumph that he knows: be?

Who, if he rise to station of com— It is the generous spirit, who, when mand, brought

Rises by open means; and there will stand Among the tasks of real life, hath wrought On honorable terms, or else retire, Upon the plan that pleased his boyish And in himself possess his own desire; thought:

5 Who comprehends his trust, and to the Whose high endeavors

an inward light

Keeps faithful with a singleness of aim; 40 That makes the path before him always And therefore does not stoop, nor lie in bright:

wait Who, with a natural instinct to discern For wealth, or honors, or for worldly What knowledge can perform, is diligent state; to learn;

Whom they must follow; on whose head Abides by this resolve, and stops not must fall, there,

Like showers of manna, if they come at all: But makes his moral being his prime Whose powers shed round him in the care;

common strife, Who, doomed to go in company with Pain, Or mild concerns of ordinary life, And Fear, and Bloodshed, miserable train! A constant influence, a peculiar grace; Turns his necessity to glorious gain; But who, if he be called upon to face In face of these doth exercise a power

Some awful moment to which Heaven Which is our human nature's highest

has joined dower;

Great issues, good or bad for human Controls them and subdues, transmutes, kind, bereaves

Is happy as a lover; and attired Of their bad influence, and their good With sudden brightness, like a receives:

spired;

are

same

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man in

NUNS FRET NOT AT THEIR CONVENT'S NARROW ROOM

(1806)

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And faculty for storm and turbulence,
Is yet a soul whose master-bias leans
To homefelt pleasures and to gentle

scenes;
Sweet images! which, whereso'er he be,
Are at his heart; and such fidelity
It is his darling passion to approve;
More brave for this, that he hath much

to love: 'Tis, finally, the man, who, lifted high, 65 Conspicuous object in a nation's eye, Or left unthought-of in obscurity, Who, with a toward or untoward lot, Prosperous or adverse, to his wish or

Nuns fret not at their convent's narrow

room; And hermits are contented with their cells; And students with their pensive citadels: Maids at the wheel, the weaver at his

loom, Sit blithe and happy; bees that soar for bloom,

5 High as the highest peak of Furness Fells, Will murmur by the hour in foxglove

bells: In truth, the prison unto which we doom Ourselves no prison is: and hence for me, In sundry moods, 'twas pastime to be

bound Within the sonnet's scanty plot of ground; Pleased if some souls (for such there

needs must be) Who have felt the weight of too much

liberty, Should find brief solace there, as I have

found.

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not

one

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Plays, in the many games of life, that

70 Where what he most doth value must

be won: Whom neither shape of danger can dis

may, Nor thought of tender happiness betray; Who, not content that former worth stand

fast, Looks forward, persevering to the last, 75 From well to better, daily self-surpast: Who, whether praise of him must walk

the earth For ever, and to noble deeds give birth, Or he must fall, to sleep without his

fame, And leave a dead unprofitable name Finds comfort in himself and in his cause; And, while the mortal mist is gathering,

draws His breath in confidence of Heaven's ap

plause: This is the happy warrior; this is he That every man in arms should wish to

be.

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Of friendswho live within

easy walk, Or neighbors, daily, weekly, in my sight: And, for my chance-acquaintance, ladies

bright, Sons, mothers, maidens withering on the

stalk, These all wear out of me, like forms with

chalk Painted on rich men's foors for one feast

night. Better than such discourse doth silence

long, Long, barren silence, square with my de

sire;

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and see,

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And with a living pleasure we describe ;
And fits of sprightly malice do but bribe
The languid mind into activity.
Sound sense, and love itself, and mirth and

glee Are fostered by the comment and the

gibe.” Even be it so, yet still among your tribe, Our daily world's true worldlings, rank

not me! Children are blest, and powerful; their

world lies More justly balanced; partly at their

feet, And part far from them: sweetest mel

odies Are those that are by distance made more

sweet; Whose mind is but the mind of his own

eyes, He is a slave; the meanest we can meet!

Nor can I not believe but that hereby Great gains are mine; for thus I live re

mote From evil-speaking; rancor,

sought, Comes to me not; malignant truth, or lie. Hence have I genial seasons, hence have I Smooth passions, smooth discourse, and

joyous thought: And thus from day to day my little boat Rocks in its harbor, lodging peaceably. 50 Blessings be with them, and eternal praise, Who gave us nobler loves and nobler

cares

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For this, for everything, we are out of In both from age to age thou didst retune;

joice, It moves us not. Great God! I'd rather | They were thy chosen music, Liberty!

There came

a Tyrant, and with holy A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn; 10

glee So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Thou fought'st against him; but hast Have glimpses that would make me less vainly striven: forlarn;

Thou from thy Alpine holds at length Have sight of Proteus rising from the art driven,

Where not a torrent murmurs heard by Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed thee. horn

Of one deep bliss thine ear hath been

bereft: TO SLEEP

Then cleave, O cleave to that which still (1806)

is left;

For, high-souled Maid, what A flock of sheep that leisurely pass by, would it be One after one; the sound of rain, and That mountain floods should thunder as bees

before, Murmuring; the fall of rivers, winds and And Ocean bellow from his rocky shore, seas,

And neither awful Voice be heard by Smooth fields, white sheets of water, and thee?

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sorrow

pure sky;

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I have thought of all by turns, and yet

HERE PAUSE: THE POET CLAIMS do lie

AT LEAST THIS PRAISE Sleepless! and soon the small birds' mel

(1811) odies Must hear, first uttered from my orchard

Here pause: the poet claims at least this trees;

praise, And the first cuckoo's melancholy cry. That virtuous Liberty hath been the scope Even thus last night, and two nights Of his pure song, which did not shrink more, I lay,

from hope And could not win thee, Sleep! by any

In the worst moment of these evil days; stealth:

From hope, the paramount duty that So do not let me wear tonight away:

Heaven lays, Without thee what is all the morning's For its own honor, on man's suffering wealth?

heart. Come, blessed barrier between day and Never may from our souls one truth deday,

part Dear mother of fresh thoughts and joyous That an accursèd thing it is to gaze health!

On prosperous tyrants with a dazzled

eye;

Nor touched with due abhorrence of THOUGHT OF A BRITON ON THE

their guilt SUBJUGATION OF SWITZERLAND

For whose dire ends tears flow, and blood (1807)

is spilt, Two Voices are there; one is of the sea, And justice labors in extremity One of the mountains; each a mighty Forget thy weakness, upon which is built, voice:

() wretched man, the throne of tyranny!

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NOVEMBER 1

(1815)

That neither present time, nor years un

born Could to my sight that heavenly face

restore.

How clear, how keen, how, marvellously

bright a

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The effluence from yon distant mountain's

LAODAMIA head,

(1814) Which, strewn with snow smooth as the sky can shed,

“With sacrifice before the rising morn Shines like another sun — on mortal sight a Vows have I made by fruitless hope inUprisen, as if to check approaching spired; Night, a

5 And from the infernal Gods, 'mid shades And all her twinkling stars.

Who now

forlorn would tread,

Of night, my slaughtered lord have I If so he might, yon mountain's glittering required: head b

Celestial pity I again implore; Terrestrial, but a surface, by the fight a Restore him to my sight - great Jove, Of sad mortality's earth-sullying wing,

restore!” Unswept, unstained ? Nor shall the aërial Powers

So speaking, and by fervent love en-
Dissolve that beauty, destined to endure, dowed
White, radiant, spotless, exquisitely pure, With faith, the suppliant heavenward lifts
Through all vicissitudes, till genial Spring her hands;
Has filled the laughing vales with wel While, like the sun emerging from a
come flowers.

cloud,
Her countenance brightens

and her eye expands;

Her bosom heaves and spreads, her statSURPRISED BY JOY

ure grows; (c. 1815)

And she expects the issue in repose.

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O terror! what hath she perceived? – 0

joy!
What doth she look on? whom doth she

behold?
Her hero slain upon the beach of Troy? 15
His vital presence? his corporeal mould!
It is — if sense deceive her not 'tis he?
And a God leads him, winged Mercury!

Surprised by joy-impatient as the wind
I turned to share the transport - Oh!

with whom
But thee, deep buried in the silent tomb,
That spot which no vicissitude can find ?
Love, faithful love, recalled thee to my
mind -

5 But how could I forget thee? Through

what power, Even for the least division of an hour, Have I been so beguiled as to be blind

most grievous loss? — That thought's return Was the worst pang

that bore, Save one, one only, when I stood forlorn, Knowing my heart's best treasure

no more;

To my

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sorrow

ever

Mild Hermes spake — and touched her

with his wand
That calms all fear: "Such grace hath

crowned thy prayer,
Laodamia! that at Jove's command
Thy husband walks the paths of upper air:
He comes to tarry with thee three hours'

space;
Accept the gift, behold him face to face!”

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was

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