JAMES C. WOODS. CCLVII. THE SOUL STITHY. My soul, asleep between its body-throes, Mid leagues of darkness watched a furnace glare, And breastless arms that wrought laborious there,Power without plan, wherefrom no purpose grows,Welding white metal on a forge with blows, Whence streamed the singing sparks like flaming hair, Which whirling gusts ever abroad would bear: And still the stithy hammers fell and rose. And then I knew those sparks were souls of men, An hour like will-o'-the-wisps some lit the fen; And still the stithy hammers rose and fell. CCLVIII. "FAIR STAR OF EVENING." FAIR Star of Evening, Splendour of the West, Star of my country!-on the horizon's brink Thou hangest, stooping, as might seem, to sink On England's bosom : yet well pleased to rest, Meanwhile, and be to her a glorious crest Conspicuous to the Nations. Thou, I think, Should'st be my Country's emblem; and should'st wink Bright Star! with laughter on her banners, drest WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. CCLIX. ON THE EXTINCTION OF THE VENETIAN REPUBLIC. ONCE did She hold the gorgeous East in fee; And what if she had seen those glories fade, When her long life hath reached its final day: Men are we, and must grieve when even the Shade Of that which once was great, is passed away. CCLX. TO TOUSSAINT L'OUVERTURE. TOUSSAINT, thou most unhappy man of men! Powers that will work for thee; air, earth, and skies; There's not a breathing of the common wind That will forget thee; thou hast great allies; Thy friends are exultations, agonies, And love, and Man's unconquerable mind. WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. CCLXI. ON THE SUBJUGATION OF SWITZERLAND. Two Voices are there; one is of the Sea, Thou fought'st against him; but hast vainly striven: Of one deep bliss thine ear hath been bereft : |