Samuel Taylor Coleridge — Napoleon

53 The Sun with gentle beams his rage disguises, And, like aspiring Tyrants, temporises— Never to be endured but when he falls or rises. 54 Thicker than rain-drops on November thorn. Undated. Now first published from an MS. 55 His native accents to her stranger's ear, Skill'd in the tongues of France and Italy— Or while she warbles with bright eyes upraised, Her fingers shoot like streams of silver light Amid the golden haze of thrilling strings. 56 Each crime that once estranges from the virtues Doth make the memory of their features daily More dim and vague, till each coarse counterfeit Can have the passport to our confidence Sign'd by ourselves. And fitly are they punish'd Who prize and seek the honest man but as A safer lock to guard dishonest treasures. 57 Where'er I find the Good, the True, the Fair, I ask no names—God's spirit dwelleth there! The unconfounded, undivided Three, Each for itself, and all in each, to see In man and Nature, is Philosophy. 58 A wind that with Aurora hath abiding Among the Arabian and the Persian Hills. 59 What boots to tell how o'er his grave She wept, that would have died to save; Little they know the heart, who deem Her sorrow but an infant's dream        &nbspOf transient love begotten; A passing gale, that as it blows Just shakes the ripe drop from the rose—        &nbspThat dies and is forgotten. O Woman! nurse of hopes and fears, All lovely in thy spring of years,        &nbspThy soul in blameless mirth possessing, Most lovely in affliction's tears,        &nbspMore lovely still than tears suppressing.