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The sun, the moon, the stars, the seas, the hills and the plains —
Are not these, O Soul, the Vision of Him who reigns?

Is not the Vision He? tho' He be not that which He seems?
Dreams are true while they last, and do we not live in dreams?

Earth, these solid stars, this weight of body and limb,
Are they not sign and symbol of thy division from Him?

Dark is the world to thee: thyself art the reason why;
For is He not all but that which has power to feel ‘I am I'?
Glory about thee, without thee; and thou fulfillest thy doom
Making Him broken gleams, and a stified splendour and gloom.

Speak to Him thou for He hears, and Spirit with Spirit can meet-
Closer is He than breathing, and nearer than hands and feet.

God is law, say the wise; 0 Soul, and let us rejoice,
For if He thunder by law the thunder is yet His voice.

Law is God, say some: no God at all, says the fool;
For all we have power to see is a straight staff bent in a pool;
And the ear of man cannot hear, and the eye of man cannot see;
But if we could see and hear, this Vision - were it not He?

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The Peak is high and fush'd

At his highest with sunrise fire;
The Peak is high, and the stars are high,

And the thought of a man is higher.



A deep below the deep,

And a height beyond the height! Our hearing is not hearing,

And our seeing is not sight.


Dearer and nearer, as the rapid of life
Shoots to the fall — take this and pray

that he
Who wrote it, honouring your sweet faith

in him, May trust himself; and after praise and

As one who feels the immeasurable

Attain the wise indifference of the wise;
And after Autumn past - if left to pass
His autumn into seeming-leafiess days —
Draw toward the long frost and longest

Wearing his wisdom lightly, like the

fruit Which in our winter woodland looks a

flower. 1 1 The fruit of the Spindle-tree (Euonymus Europæus).

The voice and the Peak

Far into heaven withdrawn,
The lone glow and long roar
Green-rushing from the rosy thrones

of dawn!

FLOWER in the crannied wall, pluck you out of the crannies, michi in little.


While about the shore of Mona those Neronian legionaries
Burnt and broke the grove and altar of the Druid and Druidess,
Far in the East Boädicéa, standing loftily charioted,
Mad and maddening all that heard her in her fierce volubility,
Girt by half the tribes of Britain, near the colony Cámulodune,
Yell'd and shriek'd between her daughters o'er a wild confederacy.

*They that scorn the tribes and call us Britain's barbarous populaces,
Did they hear me, would they listen, did they pity me supplicating?
Shall I heed them in their anguish? shall I brook to be supplicated?
Hear Icenian, Catieuchlanian, hear Coritanian, Trinobant !
Must their ever-ravening eagle's beak and talon annihilate us?
Tear the noble heart of Britain, leave it gorily quivering?
Bark an answer, Britain's raven! bark and blacken innumerable,

Blacken round the Roman carrion, make the carcase a skeleton,
Kite and kestrel, wolf and wolfkin, from the wilderness, wallow in it,
Till the face of Bel be brighten’d, Taranis be propitiated.
Lo their colony half-defended! lo their colony, Cámulodáne!
There the horde of Roman robbers mock at a barbarous adversary.
There the hive of Roman liars worship an emperor-idiot.
Such is Rome, and this her deity: hear it, Spirit of Cássivëlaún !

* Hear it, Gods! the Gods have heard it, O Icenian, O Coritanian! Doubt not ye the Gods have answer’d, Catieuchlanian, Trinobant. These have told us all their anger in miraculous utterances, Thunder, a flying fire in heaven, a murmur heard aërially, Phantom sound of blows descending, muan of an enemy massacred, Phantom wail of women and children, multitudinous agonies. Bloodily flow'd the Tamesa rolling phantom bodies of horses and men; Then a phantom colony smoulder'd on the refluent estuary ; Lastly yonder yester-even, suddenly giddily tottering There was one who watch'd and told me – down their statue of Victory fell. Lo their precious Roman bantling, lo the colony Cámulodune, Shall we teach it a Roman lesson? shall we care to be pitiful? Shall we deal with it as an infant? shall we dandle it amorously?

* Hear Icenian, Catieuchlanian, hear Coritanian, Trinobant! While I roved about the forest, long and bitterly meditating, There I heard them in the darkness, at the mystical ceremony, Loosely robed in flying raiment, sang the terrible prophetesses, “ Fear not, isle of blowing woodland, isle of silvery parapets ! Tho' the Roman eagle shadow thee, tho' the gathering enemy narrow thee, Thou shalt wax and he shall dwindle, thou shalt be the mighty one yet! Thine the liberty, thine the glory, thine the deeds to be celebrated, Thine the myriad-rolling ocean, light and shadow illimitable, Thine the lands of lasting summer, many-blossoming Paradises, Thine the North and thine the South and thine the battle-thunder of God," So they chanted: how shall Britain light upon auguries happier ? So they chanted in the darkness, and there cometh a victory now.

‘Hear Icenian, Catieuchlanian, hear Coritanian, Trinobant ! Me the wife of rich Prasutagus, me the lover of liberty, Me they seized and me they tortured, me they lash'd and humiliated, Me the sport of ribald Veterans, mine of ruffian violators! See they sit, they hide their faces, miserable in ignominy! Wherefore in me burns an anger, not by blood to be satiated. Lo the palaces and the temple, lo the colony Cámulodune! There they ruled, and thence they wasted all the flourishing territory, Thither at their will they haled the yellow-ringleted Britoness Bloodily, bloodily fall the battle-axe, unexhausted, inexorable. Shout Icenian, Catieuchlanian, shout Coritanian, Trinobant, Till the victim hear within and yearn to hurry precipitously Like the leaf in a roaring whirlwind, like the smoke in a hurricane whirl'd. Lo the colony, there they rioted in the city of Cúnobeline ! There they drank in cups of emerald, there at tables of ebony lay, Rolling on their purple couches in their tender effeminacy. There they dwelt and there they rioted; there -- there - they dwell no more.

Burst the gates, and burn the palaces, break the works of the statuary,
Take the hoary Roman head and shatter it, hold it abominable,
Cut the Roman boy to pieces in his lust and voluptuousness,
Lash the maiden into swooning, me they lash'd and humiliated,
Chop the breasts from off the mother, dash the brains of the little one out,
Up my Britons, on my chariot, on my chargers, trample them under us.'

So the Queen Boädicéa, standing loftily charioted,
Brandishing in her hand a dart and rolling glances lioness-like,
Yell'd and shriek'd between her daughters in her fierce volubility.
Till her people all around the royal chariot agitated,
Madly dash'd the darts together, writhing barbarous lineaments,
Made the noise of frosty woodlands, when they shiver in January,
Roar'd as when the roaring breakers boom and blanch on the precipices,
Yell'd as when the winds of winter tear an oak on a promontory.
So the silent colony hearing her tumultuous adversaries
Clash the darts and on the buckler beat with rapid unanimous hand,
Thought on all her evil tyrannies, all her pitiless avarice,
Till she felt the heart within her fall and flutter tremulously,
Then her pulses at the clamouring of her enemy fainted away.
Out of evil evil flourishes, out of tyranny tyranny buds.
Ran the land with Roman slaughter, multitudinous agonies.
Perish'd many a maid and matron, many a valorous legionary,
Fell the colony, city, and citadel, London, Verulam, Cámulodune.



Hexameters and Pentameters.

These lame hexameters the strong-wing'd music of Homer!

No-but a most burlesque barbarous experiment.
When was a harsher sound ever heard, ye Muses, in England?

When did a frog coarser croak upon our Helicon?
Hexameters no worse than daring Germany gave us,

Barbarous experiment, barbarous hexameters.


O MIGHTY-MOUTH'd inventor of har.

O skill'd to sing of Time or Eternity,
God-gifted organ-voice of England,

Milton, a name to resound for ages; Whose Titan angels, Gabriel, Abdiel, Starr'd from Jehovah's gorgeous ar


Tower, as the deep-domed empyrëan

Rings to the roar of an angel onset Me rather all that bowery loneliness, The brooks of Eden mazily mur ring And bloom profuse and cedar arches

Charm, as a wanderer out in ocean, Where some refulgent sunset of India Streams o'er a rich ambrosial ocean isle, And crimson-hued the stately palm

woods Whisper in odorous heights of even.


And each beside his chariot bound his Cattutus

own; O You chorus of indolent reviewers, And oxen from the city, and goodly Irresponsible, indolent reviewers,

sheep Look, I come to the test, a tiny poem In haste they drove, and honey-hearted All composed in a metre of Catullus,

wine All in quantity, careful of my motion, And bread from out the houses brought, Like the skater on ice that hardly bears

and heap'd him,

Their firewood, and the winds from off Lest I fall unawares before the people,

the plain Waking laughter in indolent reviewers. Rollid the rich vapour far into the Should I founder awhile without a tumble

heaven. Thro' this metrification of Catullus, And these all night upon the bridge 1 of They should speak to me not without a welcome,

Sat glorying; many a fire before them All that chorus of indolent reviewers.

blazed : Hard, hard, hard is it, only not to As when in heaven the stars about the tumble,

moon So fantastical is the dainty metre.

Look beautiful, when all the winds are Wherefore slight me not wholly, nor

laid, believe me

And every height comes out, and jutting Too presumptuous, indolent reviewers.

peak O blatant Magazines, regard me rather - And valley, and the immeasurable heavens Since I blush to belaud myself a mo. Break open to their highest, and all the ment

stars As some rare little rose, a piece of inmost Shine, and the Shepherd gladdens in his Horticultural art, or half coquette-like

heart: Maiden, not to be greeted unbenignly. So many a fire between the ships and


Of Xanthus blazed before the towers of SPECIMEN OF A TRANSLATION

Troy, OF THE ILIAD IN BLANK A thousand on the plain; and close by VERSE.


Sat fifty in the blaze of burning fire; So Hector spake; the Trojans roar'd And eating hoary grain and pulse the applause;

steeds, Then loosed their sweating horses from Fixt by their cars, waited the golden the yoke,

dawn. Iliad viii. 542-561. 1 Or, ridge.

nise can come

shows how near classic Tuck.



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