I have felt myself obliged to give this hasty analysis, thinking that self-defence almost required it, lest a _careless_ reader might charge me with _carelessness of arrangement_.
I must again beg it to be remembered, that History and Poetry are two things; and that the poet has a right to build his system, not on what is exact truth, but on what is, at least, plausible; what will form, in the clearest manner, a WHOLE; and what is most susceptible of poetical ornament.
THE SPIRIT OF DISCOVERY BY SEA.
BOOK THE FIRST.
Awake a louder and a loftier strain! Beloved harp, whose tones have oft beguiled My solitary sorrows, when I left The scene of happier hours, and wandered far, A pale and drooping stranger; I have sat (While evening listened to the convent bell) On the wild margin of the Rhine, and wooed Thy sympathies, "a-weary of the world," And I have found with thee sad fellowship, Yet always sweet, whene'er my languid hand 10 Passed carelessly o'er the responsive wires, While unambitious of the laurelled meed That crowns the gifted bard, I only asked Some stealing melodies, the heart might love, And a brief sonnet to beguile my tears! But I had hope that one day I might wake Thy strings to loftier utterance; and now, Bidding adieu to glens, and woods, and streams, And turning where, magnificent and vast, Main Ocean bursts upon my sight, I strike,-- 20 Rapt in the theme on which I long have mused,-- Strike the loud lyre, and as the blue waves rock, Swell to their solemn roar the deepening chords.
Lift thy indignant billows high, proclaim Thy terrors, Spirit of the hoary seas! I sing thy dread dominion, amid wrecks, And storms, and howling solitudes, to Man Submitted: awful shade of Camoens Bend from the clouds of heaven.
By the bold tones 30 Of minstrelsy, that o'er the unknown surge (Where never daring sail before was spread) Echoed, and startled from his long repose The indignant Phantom[153] of the stormy Cape; Oh, let me think that in the winds I hear Thy animating tones, whilst I pursue With ardent hopes, like thee, my venturous way, And bid the seas resound my song! And thou, Father of Albion's streams, majestic Thames, Amid the glittering scene, whose long-drawn wave 40 Goes noiseless, yet with conscious pride, beneath The thronging vessels' shadows; nor through scenes More fair, the yellow Tagus, or the Nile, That ancient river, winds.

THOU to the strain Shalt haply listen, that records the MIGHT Of OCEAN, like a giant at thy feet Vanquished, and yielding to thy gentle state The ancient sceptre of his dread domain! All was one waste of waves, that buried deep Earth and its multitudes: the Ark alone, 50 High on the cloudy van of Ararat, Rested; for now the death-commissioned storm Sinks silent, and the eye of day looks out Dim through the haze; while short successive gleams Flit o'er the weltering Deluge as it shrinks, Or the transparent rain-drops, falling few, Distinct and larger glisten.

So the Ark Rests upon Ararat; but nought around Its inmates can behold, save o'er th' expanse Of boundless waters, the sun's orient orb 60 Stretching the hull's long shadow, or the moon In silence, through the silver-cinctured clouds, Sailing as she herself were lost, and left In Nature's loneliness! But oh, sweet Hope, Thou bid'st a tear of holy ecstasy Start to their eye-lids, when at night the Dove, Weary, returns, and lo! an olive leaf Wet in her bill: again she is put forth, When the seventh morn shines on the hoar abyss:-- 70 Due evening comes: her wings are heard no more! The dawn awakes, not cold and dripping sad, But cheered with lovelier sunshine; far away The dark-red mountains slow their naked peaks Upheave above the waste; Imaus[154] gleams; Fume the huge torrents on his desert sides; Till at the awful voice of Him who rules The storm, the ancient Father and his train On the dry land descend.
Here let us pause.

80 No noise in the vast circuit of the globe Is heard; no sound of human stirring: none Of pasturing herds, or wandering flocks; nor song Of birds that solace the forsaken woods From morn till eve; save in that spot that holds The sacred Ark: there the glad sounds ascend, And Nature listens to the breath of Life.
The fleet horse bounds, high-neighing to the wind That lifts his streaming mane; the heifer lows; Loud sings the lark amid the rainbow's hues; 90 The lion lifts him muttering; MAN comes forth-- He kneels upon the earth--he kisses it; And to the GOD who stretched that radiant bow, He lifts his trembling transports.
From one spot Alone of earth such sounds ascend.

How changed The human prospect! when from realm to realm, From shore to shore, from isle to furthest isle, Flung to the stormy main, man's murmuring race, Various and countless as the shells that strew 100 The ocean's winding marge, are spread; from shores Sinensian, where the passing proas gleam Innumerous 'mid the floating villages: To Acapulco west, where laden deep With gold and gems rolls the superb galleon, Shadowing the hoar Pacific: from the North, Where on some snowy promontory's height The Lapland wizard beats his drum, and calls The spirits of the winds, to th' utmost South, Where savage Fuego shoots its cold white peaks, 110 Dreariest of lands, and the poor Pecherais[155] Shiver and moan along its waste of snows.
So stirs the earth; and for the Ark that passed Alone and darkling o'er the dread abyss, Ten thousand and ten thousand barks are seen Fervent and glancing on the friths and sounds; From the Bermudian that, with masts inclined, Shoots like a dart along; to the tall ship That, like a stately swan, in conscious pride Breasts beautiful the rising surge, and throws 120 The gathered waters back, and seems to move A living thing, along her lucid way Streaming in white-winged glory to the sun! Some waft the treasures of the east; some bear Their country's dark artillery o'er the surge Frowning; some in the southern solitudes, Bound on discovery of new regions, spread, 'Mid rocks of driving ice, that crash around, Their weather-beaten mainsail; or explore Their perilous way from isle to isle, and wind 130 The tender social tie; connecting man, Wherever scattered, with his fellow-man.
How many ages rolled away ere thus, From NATURE'S GENERAL WRECK, the world's great scene Was tenanted! See from their sad abode, At Heaven's dread voice, heard from the solitude, As in the dayspring of created things, The sad survivors of a buried world Come forth; on them, though desolate their seat, The sky looks down with smiles; for the broad sun, 140 That to the west slopes his untired career, Hangs o'er the water's brim.