(HUMANITY-FREE THOUGHT POLITICAL, SOCIAL, AND ARTISTIC, REFORM) Ebenezer Elliott ELEGY ON WILLIAM COBBETT O BEAR him where the rain can fall, And in some little lone churchyard, Yes! let the wild-flower wed his grave, For Britons honor Cobbett's name, And none can scorn, and few will blame, See, o'er his prostrate branches, see! Dead oak ! thou livest. Thy smitten hands, Beneath the shadow of thy name, Shall future patriots rise to fame, A POET'S EPITAPH STOP, mortal! Here thy brother lies His books were rivers, woods, and skies, His teachers were the torn heart's wail, The street, the factory, the jail, The palace and the grave. Sin met thy brother everywhere! And is thy brother blam'd? The meanest thing, earth's feeblest worm, The equal of the great, He bless'd the steward, whose wealth makes THE BUILDERS SPRING, summer, autumn, winter, Winds blow, suns set, and morning saith, "Ye hills, put on your gold." The song of Homer liveth, Dead Solon is not dead; But Babylon and Memphis Are letters traced in dust: They rose, while all the depths of guilt Truth, mercy, knowledge, justice, THE DREAM OF EUGENE ARAM TWAS in the prime of summer time, And four-and-twenty happy boys There were some that ran and some that leap'd, Like troutlets in a pool. Away they sped with gamesome minds, Like sportive deer they cours❜d about, But the Usher sat remote from all, His hat was off, his vest apart, To catch heaven's blessed breeze; For a burning thought was in his brow, And his bosom ill at ease: So he lean'd his head on his hands, and read The book between his knees. The Usher took six hasty strides, And talk'd with him of Cain ; And, long since then, of bloody men, And how the sprites of injur'd men Are seen in dreams from God! He told how murderers walk the earth Beneath the curse of Cain, With crimson clouds before their eyes, And flames about their brain : For blood has left upon their souls Its everlasting stain. "And, lo! the universal air Seem'd lit with ghastly flame; "Oh, God! it made me quake to see "My head was like an ardent coal, My wretched, wretched soul, I knew, A dozen times I groan'd: the dead "And now, from forth the frowning sky, From the Heaven's topmost height, I heard a voice the awful voice "And well," quoth he, "I know, for truth, "I took the dreary body up, And cast it in a stream, The depth was so extreme :- "Down went the corse with hollow plunge And vanish'd in the pool; Anon I cleans'd my bloody hands, And wash'd my forehead cool, And sat among the urchins young, That evening in the school. "Oh, Heaven! to think of their white souls, And mine so black and grim! I could not share in childish prayer "And peace went with them, one and all, And drew my midnight curtains round, All night I lay in agony, In anguish dark and deep, My fever'd eyes I dar'd not close, But star'd aghast at Sleep: For Sin had render'd unto her The keys of hell to keep. "All night I lay in agony, From weary chime to chime, With one besetting horrid hint, That rack'd me all the time; A mighty yearning like the first Fierce impulse unto crime; "One stern tyrannic thought, that made "Heavily I rose up, as soon As light was in the sky, And sought the black accursed pool With a wild misgiving eye : And I saw the Dead in the river bed, For the faithless stream was dry. "Merrily rose the lark, and shook The dew-drop from its wing; But I never mark'd its morning flight, For I was stooping once again "With breathless speed, like a soul in chase, I took him up and ran; There was no time to dig a grave In a lonesome wood, with heaps of leaves, "And all that day I read in school, But my thought was other where ; As soon as the mid-day task was done, In secret I was there; And a mighty wind had swept the leaves, And still the corse was bare! "Then down I cast me on my face, And first began to weep, For I knew my secret then was one That earth refus'd to keep: Or land or sea, though he should be Ten thousand fathoms deep. I WILL not have the mad Clytie, But I will woo the dainty rose, The pea is but a wanton witch, The lily is all in white, like a saint, And the daisy's cheek is tipp'd with a blush, She is of such low degree; |