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The streets and quays are thronged, but why disown Must perish; – how can they this blight endore!
Mid his paternal fields at random thrown?
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.
Proud were ye, mountains, when, in times of old,
Your patriot sons, to stem invasive war,
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,
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.
AT FCRNESS ABBEY.
Here, where, of havoc tired and rash undoing,
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;
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
the answer will not be thought necersary by one W.34
Jan. 1, 1843.
Apd haring rights in all that we behold.
AT FURNESS ABBEY.
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
Ithers look up, and with fixed eyes admire
ill seem to feel the spirit of the place,
Ind by the general reverence God is praised :
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!
MEMORIALS OF A TOUR IN SCOTLAND, 1803.
- 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.
FROM THE VALE OF GRASMERE.
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,
I shrink with pain;
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.)
With chastened feelings would I pay
The tribute due
From mortal view.
For so it seems,
With matchless beams.
The prompt, the brave,
And silent grave.
And showed my youth
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
SUGGESTED THE DAY FOLLOWING, ON THE BANKS OF NITE,
THE POET'S RESIDENCE.
Alas! where'er the current tends,
By Skiddaw seen, —
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,
More closely still.
Might we together
Or on wild heather.
Too frail to keep the lofty vow
With holly spray,
And passed away.
In social grief Indulged as if it were a wrong
To seek relief.
What treasures would have then been placed
But why go on?
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,
Home and delight.
But, leaving each unquiet theme
Of good and fair,
Breathe hopeful air.
His course was true,
And virtue grew.
We wont to stray,
Of each sweet lay.
AFTER VISITING THE GRAVE OF THEIR FATHER.
TO THE SONS OF BURNS,
“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."
Extract from the Journal of my Fellow-trareller.t
'Mid crowded obelisks and urns
I sought the untimely grave of Burns;
Sons of the Bard, my heart still mourns
With sorrow true;
And more would grieve, but that it turns
Trembling to you!
Through twilight shades of good and ill
Ye now are panting up life's hill,
And more than common strength and skill
Must ye display;
If ye would give the better will
Its lawful sway.
Hath Nature strung your nerves to bear
Intemperance with less harm, beware!
But if the poet's wit ye share,
Like him can speed
The social hour of tenfold care
There will be need;
For honest men delight will take
To spare your failings for his sake,
Will flatter yoni, — and fool and rake
Your steps pursue ;
And of your father's name will make
A snare for you.
Far from their noisy haunts retire,
And add your voices to the quire
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;
Nor deem that “ light which leads astray, ! l instantly added, the other day,
Is light from Heaven.”
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.
- H. R.)
From many Knights and many Squires
But what is Gordon's beauteous face,
(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
And, falling into Bruce's arms,
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;
But many days, and many months,
* The Kirtle is a River in the Southern part of Scotland, on hose banks the events here related took place.
* See Nuie.