University of Virginia Library


128

STANZAS

SUPPOSED TO HAVE BEEN WRITTEN NEAR A VILLA IN NAPLES, ONCE THE RESIDENCE OF EMMA, LADY HAMILTON.

Yes, thy enlightened mind can scorn
The fables of the nursery page,
And hold of fraud or error born
The legends of a monkish age:
Of witch or fay, in evil hour,
Foul demons, garbed in form most fair,
With heroes spell-bound by their power,
Or nature vassalled in their care.
Yet persons, places, there may be
Our doubts could to conviction turn;
Make us, what we have heard, to see,
And force us on the faith we spurn.

129

And this is one! and stranger, sure,
If holily thy heart incline
'T will pray, should e'en the syren lure,
The deafened adder's part be thine.
For here dwelt one, whose gifts of art
And grace of nature could combine
To harbor a demoniac heart,
Hid in the goodliest human shrine—
And as the rebel seraphim
That heaven records with dire renown,
Drew other spirits like to him,
E'en from their high allegiance down—
Son of the morning! so could she,
Nelson! thy noble mind o'erthrow,
To forfeit what was due from thee,
To God above or man below.
To blight that hero's laurel-crown,
Her deadly nightshade on she threw,
And round the stars of his renown,
A dark and misty halo drew.

130

His “milk of human kindness” all
Was changed and cursed by sorcerer's art;
And milder feelings turned to gall,
That wont to circle round his heart.
False then, to trust luxurious joys
With barb'rous deeds have nought in kind,
That swords cannot be joined with toys
To supple and to steel the mind.
Its reckless lord, 'mid flaming Rome
Wakening the viol's warbling, stood;
And Stuart left his goblet's foam,
To banquet upon Russell's blood.
The vices, allied in their aim,
Still in each other's tread pursue;
And she who loses woman's shame,
Soon loses woman's pity too.
When ruined patriots' cries arose,
'T was hers the monarch's ear to engage;
To turn them fenceless to their foes,
And quench in blood their “noble rage.”

131

'T was hers the accursed doom to spy,
Where aged Honor met his end,
Whilst to his death-distorted eye
Glared horrible the female fiend!
Sorc'ress! when next you meet again,
In other hands the penal power;
Not thine to wield the vengeance then,
When next that murdered form shall lower!
As when, slow rising o'er the wave,
It struck the guilty Bourbon dumb:
A spectral herald from the grave,
A monitor of wrath to come!
Yet, if the guilt that stains the soul,
Immortal as that soul may be—
And crimes their dark, dark shadows roll,
O'er scenes of far futurity!—
Then, the blot of Albion's isle,
Though Italy's ensanguined scourge,
Oh Hamilton! th' avenger's smile,
Nor further need thy sentence urge.

132

The bosom serpents cherished here,
Hereafter shall that bosom tear;
Medusa's loose and ruthless peer
Medusa's loathsome doom must bear.
Then, traveller! turn thee hence, and curse her not,
Who waits, imprisoned 'neath the clod,
Stern retribution's righteous lot,
The final fiat of her God.
 

Nero.

Carocciobi.