Trampling in scorn, like him and Socrates. The first is anarchy; when power and pleasure, Glory and science and security,

On freedom hang like fruit on the green tree,

Then pour it forth, and men shall gather ashes.

The second, tyranny—

CHRIST.

Obdurate spirit!

Thou seest but the past in the to-come.
Pride is thy error and thy punishment.

Boast not thine empire, dream not that thy worlds

Are more than furnace-sparks or rainbow-drops Before the Power that wields and kindles

them.

True greatness asks not space; true excellence Lives in the Spirit of all things that live, Which lends it to the worlds thou callest thine.

Haste thou, and fill the waning crescent

With beams as keen as those which pierced

the shadow

Of Christian night rolled back upon the West When the orient moon of Islam rode in triumph From Tmolus to the Acroceraunian snow.

Wake, thou word

Of God, and from the throne of Destiny.
Even to the utmost limit of thy way
May triumph

Be thou a curse on them whose creed Divides and multiplies the most high God!

1821.

XXIX.

I WOULD not be a king-Enough
Of woe it is to love:

The path to power is steep and rough,
And tempests reign above.

I would not climb the imperial throne; 'Tis built on ice which fortune's sun Thaws in the height of noon.

Then farewell, king! Yet, were I one,

Care would not come so soon.
Would he and I were far away

Keeping flocks on Himalay!

O THOU immortal deity

Whose thone is in the depth of human thought, I do adjure thy power and thee

By all that man may be, by all that he is not, By all that he has been and yet must be!

XXXI.

HE wanders, like a day-appearing dream, Through the dim wildernesses of the mind; Through desert woods and tracts, which

seem

Like ocean, homeless, boundless, unconfined.

XXXII.

SONNET TO BYRON.

[I AM afraid these verses will not please you, but]

If I esteemed you less, Envy would kill

Pleasure, and leave to Wonder and Despair The ministration of the thoughts that fill

The mind which, like a worm whose life may share

A portion of the unapproachable,

Marks your creations rise as fast and fair As perfect worlds at the Creator's will. But such is my regard that nor your power To soar above the heights where others [climb],

Nor fame, that shadow of the unborn hour Cast from the envious future on the time, Move one regret for his unhonoured name Who dares these words :-the worm beneath the sod

May lift itself in homage of the God.

1821.

XXXIII.

I FAINT, I perish with my love! I grow
Frail as a cloud whose [splendours] pale
Under the evening's ever-changing glow:
I die like mist upon the gale,

And like a wave under the calm I fail.

XXXIV.

GREAT Spirit whom the sea of boundless thought

Nurtures within its unimagined caves,

In which thou sittest sole, as in my mind, Giving a voice to its mysterious waves.

XXXV.

FAINT with love, the Lady of the
South

Lay in the paradise of Lebanon

Under a heaven of cedar boughs; the drought Of love was on her lips; the light was gone Out of her eyes.

XXXVI.

THE ZUCCA.

I.

SUMMER was dead, and Autumn was expiring,

And infant Winter laughed upon the land All cloudlessly and cold;-when I, desiring More in this world than any understand,