Nor doth the general voice abstain from prayer, As if a very Deity he were ! IV. Mourn, hills and groves of Attica! and mourn Ilissus, bending o'er thy classic urn! Mourn, and lament for him whose spirit dreads Your once sweet memory, studious walks and shades! For him who to divinity aspired, Not on the breath of popular applause, But through dependence on the sacred laws Framed in the schools where Wisdom dwelt retired, Intent to trace the ideal path of right (More fair than heaven's broad causeway paved with stars) Which Dion learned to measure with delight; But he hath overleaped the eternal bars; And, following guides whose craft holds no consent With aught that breathes the ethereal element, Hath stained the robes of civil power with blood, Unjustly shed, though for the public good. Whence doubts that came too late, and wishes vain, And oft his cogitations sink as low As, through the abysses of a joyless heart, The heaviest plummet of despair can go. But whence that sudden check? that fearful start! Anon his lifted eyes Saw at a long-drawn gallery's dusky bound, And hideous aspect, stalking round and round! And fiercely swept the marble floor, N Like Auster whirling to and fro, V. So, but from toil less sign of profit reaping, The torch that flames with many a lurid flake, Which they behold, whom vengeful Furies haunt; And, in their anguish, bear what other minds have borne!" VI. But Shapes that come not at an earthly call, Once raised, remains aghast, and will not fall! Your Minister would brush away The spots that to my soul adhere ; But should she labour night and day, They will not, cannot disappear; Whence angry perturbations,—and that look Which no philosophy can brook! VII. Ill-fated Chief! there are whose hopes are built Upon the ruins of thy glorious name; Who, through the portal of one moment's guilt, Pursue thee with their deadly aim! O matchless perfidy! portentous lust Of monstrous crime !—that horror-striking blade, Of spirit too capacious to require That Destiny her course should change; too just To his own native greatness to desire That wretched boon, days lengthened by mistrust. So were the hopeless troubles, that involved The soul of Dion, instantly dissolved. Released from life and cares of princely state, He left this moral grafted on his Fate: "Him only pleasure leads, and peace attends, Him, only him, the shield of Jove defends, Whose means are fair and spotless as his ends." CHARACTER OF THE HAPPY WARRIOR. WHO is the happy Warrior? Who is he -It is the generous Spirit, who, when brought So often that demand such sacrifice; More skilful in self-knowledge, even more pure, As tempted more; more able to endure, 'Tis he whose law is reason; who depends Upon that law as on the best of friends; Whence, in a state where men are tempted still A constant influence, a peculiar grace; But who, if he be called upon to face Some awful moment to which Heaven has joined Is happy as a lover; and attired With sudden brightness, like a man inspired; Come when it will, is equal to the need: Is yet a Soul whose master-bias leans To homefelt pleasures and to gentle scenes; |