English

In ancient times when like L A M ANCHA 's Knight
The adventurous Hero sallied forth to fight,
Some sage Magician famous in Romance
Supplied the Warrior with a wonderous lance,
With which through adverse troops he forced his way,
And won from giant hosts the doubtful day.
But I more fatal arms to you impart,
By Venus forged to wound the human heart:
This Weapon placed in your victorious hand
No cunning shall elude, no force withstand,
Nor shall the brave resist, or coward fly,
But all Mankind submit, adore, or die.

From a lone tower, with rev'rend ivy crown'd,
The pealing bell awaked a tender sigh;
Still, as the village caught the waving sound,
A swelling tear distream'd from every eye.

So droop'd, I ween, each Briton's breast of old,
When the dull curfew spoke their freedom fled;
For, sighing as the mournful accent roll'd,
" Our hope, " they cried, " our kind support, is dead! "

'Twas good Palemon — Near a shaded pool,
A group of ancient elms umbrageous rose;
The flocking rooks, by Instinct's native rule,

Is this the lark
Lord Shakespeare heard
Out of the dark
Of dawn? Is this the bird
That stirred
Lord Shakespeare's heart?

Is this the bird whose wing,
Whose rapturous antheming,
Rose up, soared radiant, became
Sharp flame
To Shelley listening
And made him sing,
Throbbing alone, aloof, feveredly apart,
His profuse strains of unpremeditated art?

To think that I should hear him now
Telling that single fiery rift of heaven a wild lark comes! ...

How beautiful the sight
Of brethren, who agree
In friendship to unite,
And bands of charity!
'Tis like the precious ointment shed,
In sacred rite on Aaron's head.

'Tis like the dews, that fill
The cups of Hermon's flow'rs;
Or Zion's fruitful hill,
Bright with the drops of showr's, —
Where mingling odors breathe around,
And notes of grateful joy resound.

For there the Lord commands
Blessings, in boundless store;
From his unsparing hands —
E'en life for ever more:

Great God! whose universal sway
The known and unknown worlds obey,
Now give the kingdom to thy Son,
Extend his pow'r, exalt his throne.

Thy sceptre well becomes his hands,
All heav'n submits to his commands;
His justice shall avenge the poor,
And pride and rage prevail no more.

With pow'r he vindicates the just,
And treads th' oppressor in the dust;
His worship and his fear shall last,
Till hours and years and time be past.

Let God arise in all his might,
And put the troops of hell to flight;
As smoke, that sought to cloud the skies,
Before the rising tempest flies.

He rides and thunders through the sky;
His name Jehovah sounds on high;
Sing to his name, ye sons of grace!
Ye saints! rejoice before his face.

The widow and the fatherless
Fly to his aid in sharp distress;
In him the poor and helpless find
A Judge, most just, a Father, kind.

He breaks the captive's heavy chain,
And pris'ners see the light again;

Thrice happy man! who fears the Lord,
Loves his command, and trusts his word;
Honor and peace his days attend,
And blessings on his seed descend.

Compassion dwells within his mind,
To works of mercy still inclin'd;
He lends the poor some present aid,
Or gives them not to be repaid.

His soul, well-fix'd upon the Lord,
Draws heav'nly courage from his word;
Amid the darkness light shall rise,
To cheer his heart, and bless his eyes.

He hath dispers'd his alms abroad,
His works are still before his God;

Happy is he, who fears the Lord,
And follows his commands;
Who lends the poor without reward,
Or gives with lib'ral hands.

As pity dwells within his breast
To all the sons of need;
So God shall answer his request,
With blessings on his seed.

No evil tidings shall surprise
His well-establish'd mind;
His soul to God, his refuge, flies,
And leaves his fears behind.

In times of wide and sore distress,
Some beams of light shall shine,
To show the world his righteousness,

When man grows bold in sin,
My heart within me cries,—
“He hath no faith of God within,
Nor fear before his eyes.”

He walks awhile conceal'd
In a self-flatt'ring dream,
Till his dark crimes, at once reveal'd,
Expose his hateful name.

His heart is false and foul,
His words are smooth and fair;
Wisdom is banish'd from his soul,
And leaves no goodness there.

He plots upon his bed
New mischiefs to fulfil;
He sets his heart, his hand and head,
To practise all that's ill.

When Pharaoh dar'd to vex the saints,
And thus provok'd their God,
Moses was sent at their complaints,
Arm'd with his dreadful rod.

He call'd for darkness — darkness came,
Like an o'erwhelming flood;
He made each lake, and ev'ry stream,
A lake, a stream of blood.

He gave the sign — and noisome flies
Through the whole country spread;
And frogs in croaking armies, rise
About the monarch's bed.

Through fields, and towns, and palaces,
The ten-fold vengeance flew: