XVI.

Oh, Greece! thy flourishing cities were a spoil Unto each other; thy hard hand oppressed And crushed the helpless; thou didst make thy soil Drunk with the blood of those that loved thee best; And thou didst drive, from thy unnatural breast, Thy just and brave to die in distant climes; Earth shuddered at thy deeds, and sighed for rest From thine abominations; after-times, That yet shall read thy tale, will tremble at thy crimes!

XVII.

Yet there was that within thee which has saved Thy glory, and redeemed thy blotted name; The story of thy better deeds, engraved On fame's unmouldering pillar, puts to shame Our chiller virtue; the high art to tame The whirlwind of the pa.s.sions was thy own; And the pure ray, that from thy bosom came, Far over many a land and age has shone, And mingles with the light that beams from G.o.d's own throne.

XVIII.

And Rome--thy sterner, younger sister, she Who awed the world with her imperial frown-- Rome drew the spirit of her race from thee, The rival of thy shame and thy renown.

Yet her degenerate children sold the crown Of earth's wide kingdoms to a line of slaves; Guilt reigned, and woe with guilt, and plagues came down, Till the North broke its floodgates, and the waves Whelmed the degraded race, and weltered o'er their graves.

XIX.

Vainly that ray of brightness from above, That shone around the Galilean lake, The light of hope, the leading star of love, Struggled, the darkness of that day to break; Even its own faithless guardians strove to slake, In fogs of earth, the pure ethereal flame; And priestly hands, for Jesus' blessed sake, Were red with blood, and charity became, In that stern war of forms, a mockery and a name.

XX.

They triumphed, and less b.l.o.o.d.y rites were kept Within the quiet of the convent-cell; The well-fed inmates pattered prayer, and slept, And sinned, and liked their easy penance well.

Where pleasant was the spot for men to dwell, Amid its fair broad lands the abbey lay, Sheltering dark orgies that were shame to tell, And cowled and barefoot beggars swarmed the way, All in their convent weeds, of black, and white, and gray.

XXI.

Oh, sweetly the returning muses' strain Swelled over that famed stream, whose gentle tide In their bright lap the Etrurian vales detain, Sweet, as when winter storms have ceased to chide, And all the new-leaved woods, resounding wide, Send out wild hymns upon the scented air.

Lo! to the smiling Arno's cla.s.sic side The emulous nations of the West repair, And kindle their quenched urns, and drink fresh spirit there.

XXII.

Still, Heaven deferred the hour ordained to rend From saintly rottenness the sacred stole; And cowl and worshipped shrine could still defend The wretch with felon stains upon his soul; And crimes were set to sale, and hard his dole Who could not bribe a pa.s.sage to the skies; And vice, beneath the mitre's kind control, Sinned gayly on, and grew to giant size, Shielded by priestly power, and watched by priestly eyes.

XXIII.

At last the earthquake came--the shock, that hurled To dust, in many fragments dashed and strown, The throne, whose roots were in another world, And whose far-stretching shadow awed our own.

From many a proud monastic pile, o'erthrown, Fear-struck, the hooded inmates rushed and fled; The web, that for a thousand years had grown O'er prostrate Europe, in that day of dread Crumbled and fell, as fire dissolves the flaxen thread.

XXIV.

The spirit of that day is still awake, And spreads himself, and shall not sleep again; But through the idle mesh of power shall break Like billows o'er the Asian monarch's chain; Till men are filled with him, and feel how vain, Instead of the pure heart and innocent hands, Are all the proud and pompous modes to gain The smile of Heaven;--till a new age expands Its white and holy wings above the peaceful lands.

XXV.

For look again on the past years;--behold, How like the nightmare's dreams have flown away Horrible forms of worship, that, of old, Held, o'er the shuddering realms, unquestioned sway: See crimes, that feared not once the eye of day, Rooted from men, without a name or place: See nations blotted out from earth, to pay The forfeit of deep guilt;--with glad embrace The fair disburdened lands welcome a n.o.bler race.

XXVI.

Thus error's monstrous shapes from earth are driven; They fade, they fly--but Truth survives their flight; Earth has no shades to quench that beam of heaven; Each ray that shone, in early time, to light The faltering footstep in the path of right, Each gleam of clearer brightness shed to aid In man's maturer day his bolder sight, All blended, like the rainbow's radiant braid, Pour yet, and still shall pour, the blaze that cannot fade.

XXVII.

Late, from this Western sh.o.r.e, that morning chased The deep and ancient night, which threw its shroud O'er the green land of groves, the beautiful waste, Nurse of full streams, and lifter-up of proud Sky-mingling mountains that o'erlook the cloud.

Erewhile, where yon gay spires their brightness rear, Trees waved, and the brown hunter's shouts were loud Amid the forest; and the bounding deer Fled at the glancing plume, and the gaunt wolf yelled near.

XXVIII.

And where his willing waves yon bright blue bay Sends up, to kiss his decorated brim, And cradles, in his soft embrace, the gay Young group of gra.s.sy islands born of him, And crowding nigh, or in the distance dim, Lifts the white throng of sails, that bear or bring The commerce of the world;--with tawny limb, And belt and beads in sunlight glistening, The savage urged his skiff like wild bird on the wing.

XXIX.

Then all this youthful paradise around, And all the broad and boundless mainland, lay Cooled by the interminable wood, that frowned O'er mount and vale, where never summer ray Glanced, till the strong tornado broke his way Through the gray giants of the sylvan wild; Yet many a sheltered glade, with blossoms gay Beneath the showery sky and sunshine mild, Within the s.h.a.ggy arms of that dark forest smiled.

x.x.x.

There stood the Indian hamlet, there the lake Spread its blue sheet that flashed with many an oar, Where the brown otter plunged him from the brake, And the deer drank: as the light gale flew o'er, The twinkling maize-field rustled on the sh.o.r.e; And while that spot, so wild, and lone, and fair, A look of glad and guiltless beauty wore, And peace was on the earth and in the air, The warrior lit the pile, and bound his captive there.

x.x.xI.

Not unavenged--the foeman, from the wood, Beheld the deed, and, when the midnight shade Was stillest, gorged his battle-axe with blood; All died--the wailing babe--the shrinking maid And in the flood of fire that scathed the glade, The roofs went down; but deep the silence grew, When on the dewy woods the day-beam played; No more the cabin-smokes rose wreathed and blue, And ever, by their lake, lay moored the bark canoe.

x.x.xII.

Look now abroad--another race has filled These populous borders--wide the wood recedes, And towns shoot up, and fertile realms are tilled; The land is full of harvests and green meads; Streams numberless, that many a fountain feeds, Shine, disembowered, and give to sun and breeze Their virgin waters; the full region leads New colonies forth, that toward the western seas Spread, like a rapid flame among the autumnal trees.

x.x.xIII.

Here the free spirit of mankind, at length, Throws its last fetters off; and who shall place A limit to the giant's unchained strength, Or curb his swiftness in the forward race?

On, like the comet's way through infinite s.p.a.ce.

Stretches the long untravelled path of light, Into the depths of ages; we may trace, Afar, the brightening glory of its flight, Till the receding rays are lost to human sight.

x.x.xIV.