The inextinguishable spirit strives.
O, may that Power who hushed the stormy seas, And cleared a way for the first votaries, Prosper the new-born College of St. Bees!
Alas! the genius of our age from schools Less humble draws her lessons, aims, and rules. To prowess guided by her insight keen Matter and spirit are as one machine; Boastful idolatress of formal skill,
She in her own would merge the Eternal Will: Better, if reason's triumphs match with these, Her flight before the bold credulities
That furthered the first teaching of St. Bees.
WANDER o'er each well-known field My boyhood's home in view,
And thoughts that were as fountains sealed Are welling forth anew.
The ancient house, the aged trees,
They bring again to light
The years that like a summer's breeze Were trackless in their flight.
How much is changed of what I see, How much more changed am I, And yet how much is left, to me How is the distant nigh!
The walks are overgrown and wild, The terrace flags are green, But I am once again a child, I am what I have been.
The sounds that round about me rise Are what none other hears; I see what meets no other eyes, Though mine are dim with tears,
The breaking of the summer's morn, The tinge on house and tree, The billowy clouds, the beauty born Of that celestial sea,
The freshness of the faëry land Lit by the golden gleam, It is my youth that where I stand Surrounds me like a dream.
Alas! the real never lent
Those tints, too bright to last; They fade, and bid me rest content And let the past be past.
The wave that dances to the breast Of earth can ne'er be stayed;
The star that glitters in the crest Of morning needs must fade.
But there shall flow another tide, So let me hope, and far Over the outstretched waters wide Shall shine another star.
In every change of man's estate Are lights and guides allowed; The fiery pillar will not wait, But, parting, sends the cloud.
Nor mourn I the less manly part Of life to leave behind; My loss is but the lighter heart, My gain the graver mind.
St. John's Valley.
THE VALLEY OF ST. JOHN.
rode till over down and dell
Heide more HE
The shade more broad and deeper fell;
And though around the mountain's head
Flowed streams of purple and gold and red,
Dark at the base, unblest by beam,
Frowned the black rocks and roared the stream.
With toil the king his way pursued
By lonely Threlkeld's waste and wood, Till on his course obliquely shone The narrow valley of St. John, Down sloping to the western sky, Where lingering sunbeams love to lie. Right glad to feel those beams again, The king drew up his charger's rein; With gauntlet raised he screened his sight, As dazzled with the level light,
And, from beneath his glove of mail, Scanned at his ease the lovely vale, While 'gainst the sun his armor bright Gleamed ruddy like the beacon's light.
Paled in by many a lofty hill,
The narrow dale lay smooth and still, And, down its verdant bosom led, A winding brooklet found its bed. But, midmost of the vale, a mound Arose, with airy turrets crowned, Buttress and rampire's circling bound, And mighty keep and tower; Seemed some primeval giant's hand The castle's massive walls had planned, A ponderous bulwark, to withstand Ambitious Nimrod's power. Above the moated entrance slung, The balanced drawbridge trembling hung, As jealous of a foe;
Wicket of oak, as iron hard,
With iron studded, clenched, and barred,
And pronged portcullis, joined to guard The gloomy pass below.
But the gray walls no banners crowned, Upon the watch-tower's airy round
No warder stood his horn to sound, No guard beside the bridge was found, And, where the Gothic gateway frowned, Glanced neither bill nor bow.
WELL there is in the west country,
And a clearer one never was seen; There is not a wife in the west country But has heard of the Well of St. Keyne.
An oak and an elm tree stand beside, And behind doth an ash-tree grow, And a willow from the bank above Droops to the water below.
A traveller came to the Well of St. Keyne; Joyfully he drew nigh;
For from cock-crow he had been travelling, And there was not a cloud in the sky.
He drank of the water so cool and clear, For thirsty and hot was he;
« PreviousContinue » |