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I.Those whom nor power, nor lying faith, nor toil,Nor custom, queen of many slaves, makes blind,Have ever grieved that man should be the spoilOf his own weakness, and with earnest mindFed hopes of its redemption; these recurChastened by deathful victory…
Scene.–Before the Cavern of the Indian Enchantress.The Enchantress comes forth.Enchantress.He came like a dream in the dawn of life, He fled like a shadow before its noon;He is gone, and my peace is turned to strife, And I wander and…
Yes! all is past—swift time has fled away,Yet its swell pauses on my sickening mind;How long will horror nerve this frame of clay?I’m dead, and lingers yet my soul behind.Oh! powerful Fate, revoke thy deadly spell,And yet that may not…
Ye gentle visitations of calm thought—Moods like the memories of happier earth,Which come arrayed in thoughts of little worth,Like stars in clouds by the weak winds enwrought,—But that the clouds depart and stars remain,While they remain, and ye, alas, depart!
What men gain fairly—that they should possess,And children may inherit idleness,From him who earns it—This is understood;Private injustice may be general good.But he who gains by base and armed wrong,Or guilty fraud, or base compliances,May be despoiled; even as a…
I am as a spirit who has dweltWithin his heart of hearts, and I have feltHis feelings, and have thought his thoughts, and knownThe inmost converse of his soul, the toneUnheard but in the silence of his blood,When all the…
People of England, ye who toil and groan,Who reap the harvests which are not your own,Who weave the clothes which your oppressors wear,And for your own take the inclement air;Who build warm houses . . .And are like gods who…
Bright wanderer, fair coquette of Heaven,To whom alone it has been givenTo change and be adored for ever,Envy not this dim world, for neverBut once within its shadow grewOne fair as—
My spirit like a charmed bark doth swimUpon the liquid waves of thy sweet singing,Far far away into the regions dim Of rapture—as a boat, with swift sails wingingIts way adown some many-winding river,Speeds through dark forests o’er the waters…
O mighty mind, in whose deep stream this ageShakes like a reed in the unheeding storm,Why dost thou curb not thine own sacred rage?