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TO

ROBERT SOUTHEY, ESQ. LL.D.

POET LAUREATE, &c. &c.

IN TESTIMONY OF

ESTEEM FOR HIS GENIUS,

AND GRATITUDE FOR HIS FRIENDSHIP,

THIS POEM

IS VERY RESPECTFULLY

INSCRIBED.

son,

[While the Dedication on the preceding page was passing through the press, my

third ROBERT SOUTHEY HERAUD, received translation to a purer state of Being. (13th March, 1835.) · An Ode, in which I seek to canonize his memory, may here, I would fain think, be not inappropriately inserted.]

O DE.

The Heart may be too proud,
Even a Parent's Heart!
My Boy! thou wert—thou art
My Boast, even in thy shroud!
Death hath come up amongst my little Flock,
And taken One from out my darling Seven,
The loveliest-worthiest—as a special mock,
Or rather marked him as preferred for Heaven.
My Boy! my own broad-browed, precocious Boy!
Thy Body was a Casket, fair but frail-
No helm hadst thou-no. warrior's coat of mail-
The golden Chain, that linked it to thy Soul,
Was weak, that it might snap, ere came annoy ;
Early the garment dropt, soon won the goal.
Hence as I watched thee, resting midst the strife,
Beauty on thy calm features set her seal;
The Beauty of the Dying ;-nay, the Life
Of Hope, to Victory making sure appeal,
Bringing the Distant near,
And of the Future saying—' It is here.'

A Poet, in his Youth, Deluded, irked with pain, Would importune in vain The gates of Power, the shrines of Truth. Answered not they to his austere demand : They knew not Freedom's Angel. Hence he sought To Winds and Waves, . . if they could understand, And might for him interpret his great Thought. They told him, they were homeless and unchartered ; The Forests and the Clouds had conscious voice, And Liberty, she was their playmate ever ; And the proud Sun did vaunt of Light unbartered. So, from an Ocean-cliff, with wild endeavour, (Glad to find reason wherefore to rejoice,) He deemed, by virtue of strong Love, to send The Spirit of his Being into all The permeant Elements,—and therewith blend, As if Creation were redeemed from thrall ; And, Nature! thus, through thee, Sport with the phantast alien, Liberty.

Yes ; thou to her art alien, Liberty !
Maternal Nature knows not thee!
Clouds, Woods and Waves and Winds,
Necessity still binds ;
Only the Soul is free !
Only the Soul, self-knowing,
That, by pure Intuition,
Contemplates, rapt and glowing,
The Image and the Vision
Of beatifick Truth,
And feels the wings regrowing
Of her eternal Youth !

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