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The streets and quays are thronged, but why disown Must perish; – how can they this blight endore!
Their natural utterance: whence this strange release And must he too the ruthless change bemoan
From social noise — silence elsewhere unknown! Who scorns a false utilitarian lure
A spirit whispered, “ Let all wonder cease;

Mid his paternal fields at random thrown?
Ocean's o'erpowering murmurs have set free

Baffle the threat, bright scene from Orrest-head Thy sense from pressure of life's common din; Given to the pausing traveller's rapturous glance: As the dread voice that speaks from out the sea Plead for thy peace, thou beautiful romance Of God's eternal Word, the voice of time

Of nature; and, if human hearts be dead, Doth deaden, shocks of tumult, shrieks of crime, Speak, passing winds; ye torrents, with your strong The shouts of folly, and the groans of sin.”

And constant voice, protest against the wrong.

over-rated. Near the house of one of them stands a more nificent tree, which a neighbour of the owner advised bio to fell for profit's sake. "Fell it!"exclaimed the yeoman, “I had rather fall on my knees and worship it." It has

pens, I believe, that the intended railway would pas

October 12th, 1844.
WANSFELL!* this household has a favoured lot,
Living with liberty on thee to gaze,

To watch while morn first crowns thee with her rays,
Or when along thy breast serenely float

Proud were ye, mountains, when, in times of old,

Your patriot sons, to stem invasive war,
Evening's angelic clouds. Yet ne'er a note
Hath sounded (shame upon the bard !) thy praise

Intrenched your brows; ye gloried in each scar: For all that thou, as if from heaven, hast brought

Now, for your shame, a power, the thirst of gold,

That rules o'er Britain like a baneful star,
Of glory lavished on our quiet days.
Bountiful son of earth! when we are gone

Wills that your peace, your beauty, shall be sold.

VE From every object dear to mortal sight,

And clear way made for her triumphal car

Through the beloved retreats your arms enfold ! As soon we shall be, may these words attest How oft, to elevate our spirits, shone

Heard ye that whistle? As her long-linked train Thy visionary majesties of light,

Swept onwards, did the vision cross your vierv! How in thy pensive glooms our hearts found rest.

Yes, ye were startled; - and, in balance true,

Weighing the mischief with the promised gain, Dec, 24, 1812.

Mountains, and vales, and floods, I call on you

To share the passion of a just disdain.
Wule beams of orient light shoot wide and high,
Deep in the vale a little rural town +
Breathes forth a cloud-like creature of its own,

That mounts not toward the radiant morning sky,

But, with a less ambitious sympathy,
Ilangs o'er its parent waking to the cares

Here, where, of havoc tired and rash undoing,
Troubles and toils that every day prepares.

Man left this structure to become time's prey So fancy, to the musing poet's eye,

A soothing spirit follows in the way Endears that lingerer. And how blest her sway

That Nature takes, her counter-work pursuing. (Like influence never may my soul reject)

See how her ivy clasps the sacred ruin If the calm Heaven, now to its zenith decked

Fall to prevent or beautify decay; With glorious forms in numberless array,

And, on the mouldered walls, how bright, how gay, To the lone shepherd on the hills disclose

The flowers in pearly dews their bloom renewing! Gleams from a world in which the saints repose.

Thanks to the place, blessings upon the nour;
Even as I speak the rising sun's first smile
Gleams on the grass-crowned top of yon tall tower

Whose cawing occupants with joy proclaim

Prescriptive title to the shattered pile

Where, Cavendish, thine seems nothing but a name! RAILWAY Is then no nook of English ground secure

yeomanry feel to their small inheritances can scarcely be
From rash assault? | Schemes of retirement sown
In youth, and raid the busy world kept pure
As when their earliest flowers of hope were blown,

† Ambleside.
* The degree and kind of attachment which many of the enters into the strength of the feeling,

the answer will not be thought necersary by one W.34

Jan. 1, 1843.

Apd haring rights in all that we behold.

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af rust. Tell have yon railway labourers to this ground yang het Vitludrawn for noontide rest. They sit, they walk

mong the ruins, but no idle talk
in a beard; to grave demeanour all are bound;
31 may read from one voice a hymn with tuneful sound
* * fallows once more the long-deserted quire
has and thrills the old sepulchral earth, around.

Ithers look up, and with fixed eyes admire
that wide-spread arch, wondering how it was raised,
o keep, so high in air, its strength and grace:

ill seem to feel the spirit of the place,

Ind by the general reverence God is praised :
Profane despoilers, stand ye not reproved,
While thus these simple-hearted men are moved ? *

VALEDICTORY SONNET. Closing the Volume of Sonnets published in 1838.1 Serving no haughty muse, my hands have here Disposed some cultured flowerets (drawn from spots Where they bloomed singly, or in scattered knots), Each kind in several beds of one parterre; Both to allure the casual loiterer, And that, so placed, my nurslings may requite Studious regard with opportune delight, Nor be unthanked, unless I fondly err. But metaphor dismissed, and thanks apart, Reader, farewell! My last words let them be – If in this book fancy and truth agree; If simple nature trained by careful art Through it have found a passage to thy heart; Grant me thy love, I crave no other fee!

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- Then why these lingering steps ? — A bright adieu, For a brief absence, proves that love is true; Ne'er can the way be irksome or forlorn That winds into itself for sweet return.



AUGUST, 1803.

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The gentlest shade that walked Elysian plains Wight sometimes covet dissoluble chains; Eren for the tenants of the zone that lies Beyond the stars, celestial Paradise, Methinks 't would heighten joy, to overleap At will the crystal battlements, and peep lou some other region, though less fair, To see how things are made and managed there. Change for the worse might please, incursion bold Inw the tracts of darkness and of cold; Der Limbo lake with aëry flight to steer, Aud on the verge of Chaos hang in fear. Such animation often do I find, Power in my breast, wings growing in my mind, Then, when some rock or hill is overpast, Perchance without one look behind me cast, Sme burrier with which nature, from the birth of things, has fenced this fairest spot on earth. 0, plensant transit, Grasmere! to resign Auch happy fields, abodes so calm as thine; No like an outcast with himself at strife; The slave of business, time, or care for life Bit moved by choice; or, if constrained in part, put still with nature's freedom at the heart; – Tu cull contentment upon wildest shores, And luxuries extract froin bleakest moors; With prompt embrace all beauty to enfold,

And have I then thy bones so near,
And thou forbidden to appear?
As if it were thyself that's here

I shrink with pain;
And both my wishes and my fear

Alike are vain.

Off weight nor press on weight! – away Dark thoughts !- they came, but not to stay;

It In a brief advertisement to the Volume of Sonnets, the author said:

• My admiration of some of the sonnets of Milton, first tempted me to write in that form. The fact is not mentioned from a notion that it will be deemed of any import. ance by the reader, but merely as a public acknowledgment of one of the innumerable obligations, which, as a poet and a man,

I am under to our great fellow-countryman Rydal Mount, May 21st, 1838." - H. R.)

See Note.

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With chastened feelings would I pay

The tribute due
To him, and aught that hides his clay

From mortal view.
Fresh as the flower, whose modest worth
He sang, his genius .glinted' forth,
Rose like a star that touching earth,

For so it seems,
Doth glorify its humble birth

With matchless beams.
The piercing eye, the thoughtful brow,
The struggling heart, where be they now?-
Full soon the aspirant of the plough,

The prompt, the brave,
Slept, with the obscurest, in the low

And silent grave.
I mourned with thousands, but as one
More deeply grieved, for he was gone
Whose light I hailed when first it shone,

And showed my youth
How verse may build a princely throne

On humble truth.

Harboured where none can be misled,

Wronged or distrest; And surely here it may be said

That such are blest. And oh for thee, by pitying grace Checked oft-times in a devious race, May He who halloweth the place

Where man is laid Receive thy spirit in the embrace

For which it prayed ! Sighing I turned away; but ere Night fell I heard, or seemed to hear, Music that sorrow comes not near,

A ritual hymn, Chaunted in love that casts out fear

By Seraphim.

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II. (2.)




Alas! where'er the current tends,
Regret pursues and with it blends,-
Huge Criffel's hoary top ascends

By Skiddaw seen, —
Neighbours we were, and loving friends

We might have been; True friends though diversely inclined; But heart with heart and mind with mind, Where the main fibres are entwined,

Through nature's skill,
May even by contraries be joined

More closely still.
The tear will start, and let it flow;
Thou “poor inhabitant below,'
At this dread moment

Might we together
Have sate and talked where gowans blow,

Or on wild heather.

Too frail to keep the lofty vow
That must have followed when bis brow
Was wreathed -" The Vision" tells us how –

With holly spray,
He faultered, drifted to and fro,

And passed away.
Well might such thoughts, dear sister, tbrong
Our minds when, lingering all too long,
Over the grave of Burns we hung

In social grief Indulged as if it were a wrong

To seek relief.

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even so

What treasures would have then been placed
Within my reach; of knowledge graced
By fancy what a rich repast !

But why go on?
Oh! spare to sweep, thou mournful blast,


grave grass-grown. There, too, a son, his joy and pride, (Not three weeks past the stripling died,) Lies gathered to his father's side,

Soul-moving sight!
Yet one to which is not denied

Home and delight.
For he is safe, a quiet bed
Hath early found among the dead,

But, leaving each unquiet theme
Where gentlest judgments may misdeen,
And prompt to welcome every gleam

Of good and fair,
Let us beside this limpid stream

Breathe hopeful air.
Enough of sorrow, wreck, and blight;
Think rather of those moments bright
When to the consciousness of right

His course was true,
When wisdom prospered in his sight

And virtue grew.
Yes, freely let our hearts expand,
Freely as in youth's season bland,
When side by side, his book in hand,

We wont to stray,
Our pleasure varying at command

Of each sweet lay.
How oft inspired must he have trod
These pathways, yon far-stretching road!


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II. (3.)
There Jurks his home; in that abode,

With mirth elate,
Or in his nobly-pensive mood,
The rustic sate.

“The poet's grave is in a corner of the churchyard. We looked at

it with melancholy and painful reflections, repeating to each other Proud thoughts that image overawes,

his own verses

• Is there a man whose judgment clear,' &c."
Before it humbly let us pause,

Extract from the Journal of my Fellow-trareller.t
And ask of Nature, from what cause
And by what rules

'Mid crowded obelisks and urns
She trained her Burns to win applause

I sought the untimely grave of Burns;
That shames the schools.

Sons of the Bard, my heart still mourns

With sorrow true;
Through busiest street and loneliest glen

And more would grieve, but that it turns
Are felt the flashes of his pen;

Trembling to you!
He rules mid winter snows, and when
Bees fill their hives;

Through twilight shades of good and ill
Deep in the general heart of men

Ye now are panting up life's hill,
His power survives.

And more than common strength and skill

Must ye display;
What need of fields in some far clime
Where Heroes, Sages, Bards sublime,

If ye would give the better will

Its lawful sway.
And all that fetched the flowing rhyme
From genuine springs,

Hath Nature strung your nerves to bear
Shall dwell together till old Time

Intemperance with less harm, beware!
Folds up his wings?

But if the poet's wit ye share,

Like him can speed
Sweet Mercy! to the gates of Heaven

The social hour of tenfold care
This minstrel lead, his sins forgiven;

There will be need;
The rueful conflict, the heart riven
With vain endeavour,

For honest men delight will take
And memory of earth's bitter leaven,

To spare your failings for his sake,
Effaced for ever.

Will flatter yoni, — and fool and rake

Your steps pursue ;
But why to him confine the prayer,
When kindred thoughts and yearnings bear

And of your father's name will make

A snare for you.
On the frail heart the purest share
With all that live?-

Far from their noisy haunts retire,
The best of what we do and are,

And add your voices to the quire
Jast God, forgive!*

That sanctify the cottage fire

With service meet; *In a letter from Wordsworth to the Editor, dated There seek the genius of your sire, Rydal Mount, Dec. 23d, 1839, this poem is referred to as

His spirit greet; follows: ** * . There is a difference of more than the length of your life, I believe, between our ages. I am now

Or where, 'mid " lonely heights and hows," standing on the brink of that vast ocean I must sail so soon

He paid to nature tuneful vows; -I must speedily lose sight of the shore; and I could not Or wiped his honourable brows once have conceived how little I now am troubled by the

Bedewed with toil, thought of how long or short a time they who remain upon

While reapers strove, or busy ploughs that shore may have sight of me. The other day I chanced to be looking over a MS. poem belonging to the year 1803,

Upturned the soil ; ihough not actually composed till many years afterwards. His judgment with benignant ray Ii was suggested by visiting the neighbourhood of Dumfries, Shall guide, his fancy cheer, your way; in which Burns bad resided, and where he died: it concaded thus:

But ne'er to a seductive lay

Let faith be given;
Sweet Mercy! to the gates of Heaven, &c.

Nor deem that “ light which leads astray, ! l instantly added, the other day,

Is light from Heaven.”
But why to him confine the prayer, &c.
The more I reflect upon this last exclamation, the more I

Let no mean hope your souls enslave; leel, and perhaps it may in gome degree be the same with

Be independent, generous, brave; you, justified in attaching comparatively small imporiance

Your father such example gave, lo any literary monument that I may be enabled to leave

And such revere; bebind. It is well, however, I am convinced that men think otherwise in the earlier part of their lives, and why

But be admonished by his grave,

And think and fear! 1: 18 80, is a point I need not touch upon in writing to you."

+ See Note.

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- H. R.)

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From many Knights and many Squires
The Bruce had been selected;
And Gordon, fairest of them all,
By Ellen was rejected.
Sad tidings to that noble Youth !
For it may be proclaimed with truth,
If Bruce hath loved sincerely,
That Gordon loves as dearly.

But what is Gordon's beauteous face,
And what are Gordon's crosses,
To them who sit by Kirtle's Braes
Upon the verdant mosses?
Alas that ever he was born!
The Gordon, couched behind a thorn,
Sees them and their caressing;
Beholds them blest and blessing.

(AT INVERSNEYDE, UPON LOCH LOMOND.) SWEET Highland Girl, a very shower Of beauty is thy earthly dower! Twice seven consenting years have shed Their utmost bounty on thy head: And, these gray Rocks; this household Lawn; These Trees, a veil just half withdrawn; This fall of water, that doth make A murmur near the silent Lake; This little Bay, a quiet Road That holds in shelter thy Abode; In truth together do ye seem Like something fashioned in a dream; Such Forms as from their covert peep When earthly cares are laid asleep! Yet, dream and vision as thou art, I bless thee with a human heart: God shield thee to thy latest years! I neither know thee nor thy peers; And yet my eyes are filled with tears.

Proud Gordon cannot bear the thoughts
That through his brain are travelling,
And, starting up, to Bruce's heart
He lanched a deadly javelin!
Fair Ellen saw it when it came,
And, stepping forth to meet the same,
Did with her body cover
The Youth, her chosen Lover.

And, falling into Bruce's arms,
Thus died the beauteous Ellen,
Thus, from the heart of her True-love,
The mortal spear repelling.
And Bruce, as soon as he had slain
The Gordon, sailed away to Spain ;
And fought with
Against the Moorish Crescent.

With earnest feeling I shall pray For thee when I am far away: For never saw I mien, or face, In which more plainly I could trace Benignity and home-bred sense Ripening in perfect innocence. Here scattered like a random seed, Remote from men, Thou dost not need The embarrassed look of shy distress, And maidenly shamefacedness: Thou wear'st upon thy forehead clear The freedom of a Mountaineer: A face with gladness overspread ! Soft smiles, by human kindness bred ! And seemliness complete, that sways Thy courtesies, about thee plays;

rage incessant

But many days, and many months,
And many years ensuing,
This wretched Knight did vainly scek
The death that he was wooing.

* The Kirtle is a River in the Southern part of Scotland, on hose banks the events here related took place.

* See Nuie.

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