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white bear drifting on a field of ice

      Howls to her sunder’d cubs with piteous rage

      And savage agony.] Mid the drear scene 140

      A craggy mass uprear’d its misty brow,

      Untouch’d by breath of Spring, unwont to know

      Red Summer’s influence, or the chearful face

      Of Autumn; yet its fragments many and huge

      Astounded ocean with the dreadful dance 145

      Of whirlpools numberless, absorbing oft

      The blameless fisher at his perilous toil.

      ‘These are the fiends that o’er thy native land 260

      Spread Guilt and Horror. Maid belov’d of Heaven!

      Dar’st thou inspir’d by the holy flame of Love

      Encounter such fell shapes, nor fear to meet

      Their wrath, their wiles? O Maiden dar’st thou die?’

      ‘Father of Heaven: I will not fear.’ she said, 265

      ‘My arm is weak, but mighty is thy sword.’

      She spake and as she spake the trump was heard

      That echoed ominous o’er the streets of Rome,

      When the first Caesar totter’d o’er the grave

      By Freedom delv’d: the Trump, whose chilling blast 270

      On Marathon and on Plataea’s plain

      Scatter’d the Persian. — From his obscure haunt, &c.

      ‘Lo she goes!

      To Orleans lo! she goes — the mission’d Maid!

      The Victor Hosts wither beneath her arm!

      And what are Crecy, Poictiers, Azincour 280

      But noisy echoes in the ear of Pride?’

      Ambition heard and startled on his throne;

      But strait a smile of savage joy illum’d

      His grisly features, like the sheety Burst

      Of Lightning o’er the awaken’d midnight clouds 285

      Wide flash’d. [For lo! a flaming pile reflects

      Its red light fierce and gloomy on the face

      Of SUPERSTITION and her goblin Son

      Loud-laughing CRUELTY, who to the stake

      A female fix’d, of bold and beauteous mien, 290

      Her snow-white Limbs by iron fetters bruis’d

      Her breast expos’d.] JOAN saw, she saw and knew

      Her perfect image. Nature thro’ her frame

      One pang shot shiv’ring; but, that frail pang soon

      Dismiss’d, ‘Even so, &c.

      But lo! no more was seen the ice-pil’d mount

      And meteor-lighted dome. — An Isle appear’d

      The Sea meantime his Billows darkest roll’d,

      And each stain’d wave dash’d on the shore a corse.

      His hideous features blended with the mist,

      The long black locks of SLAUGHTER. PEACE beheld

      And o’er the plain

      The name of JUSTICE written on thy brow

      Resplendent shone

      A Vapor rose, pierc’d by the MAIDEN’S eye.

      Guiding its course OPPRESSION sate within,

      With terror pale and rage, yet laugh’d at times

      Musing on Vengeance: trembled in his hand

      A Sceptre fiercely-grasp’d. O’er Ocean westward

      The Vapor sail’d

      These images imageless, these Small-Capitals

       constituting themselves Personifications, I despised even at

       that time; but was forced to introduce them, to preserve the

       connection with the machinery of the Poem, previously adopted

       by Southey. S. T. C.

      ENVY sate guiding — ENVY, hag-abhorr’d!

      Like JUSTICE mask’d, and doom’d to aid the fight 410

      Victorious ‘gainst oppression. Hush’d awhile

      Shriek’d AMBITION’S ghastly throng

      And with them those the locust Fiends that crawl’d

      — if Locusts how could they shriek? I must have

       caught the contagion of unthinkingness. S. T. C. 4{o}.

      VER PERPETUUM

      FRAGMENT FROM AN UNPUBLISHED POEM.

      The early Year’s fast-flying vapours stray

      In shadowing trains across the orb of day:

      And we, poor Insects of a few short hours,

       Deem it a world of Gloom.

      Were it not better hope a nobler doom, 5

      Proud to believe that with more active powers

       On rapid many-coloured wing

       We thro’ one bright perpetual Spring

      Shall hover round the fruits and flowers,

      Screen’d by those clouds and cherish’d by those showers! 10

      ON OBSERVING A BLOSSOM ON THE FIRST OF FEBRUARY 1796

      Sweet flower! that peeping from thy russet stem

      Unfoldest timidly, (for in strange sort

      This dark, frieze-coated, hoarse, teeth-chattering month

      Hath borrow’d Zephyr’s voice, and gazed upon thee

      With blue voluptuous eye) alas, poor Flower! 5

      These are but flatteries of the faithless year.

      Perchance, escaped its unknown polar cave,

      Even now the keen North-East is on its way.

      Flower that must perish! shall I liken thee

      To some sweet girl of too too rapid growth 10

      Nipp’d by consumption mid untimely charms?

      Or to Bristowa’s bard, the wondrous boy!

      An amaranth, which earth scarce seem’d to own,

      Till disappointment came, and pelting wrong

      Beat it to earth? or with indignant grief 15

      Shall I compare thee to poor Poland’s hope,

      Bright flower of hope killed in the opening bud?

      Farewell, sweet blossom! better fate be thine

      And mock my boding! Dim similitudes

      Weaving in moral strains, I’ve stolen one hour 20

      From anxious Self, Life’s cruel taskmaster!

      And the warm wooings of this sunny day

      Tremble along my frame and harmonize

      The attempered organ, that even saddest thoughts

      Mix with some sweet sensations, like harsh tunes 25

      Played deftly on a soft-toned instrument.

      TO A PRIMROSE

      THE FIRST SEEN IN THE SEASON

      Nitens et roboris

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