Like when the mighty rivers of the West
Meet the tempestuous seas; but still I lived,
And held my way undaunted. Now, I come
To this sweet place for quiet. Every tree,
And bush and fragrant flower and hilly path,
And thymy mound that flings unto the winds
Its morning incense, is my friend; for I
Did make acquaintance with inanimate things
In very boyhood, and did love to break

With shouts the mountain silence, and to hang

O'er flashing torrents, when the piny boughs

Shook their dark locks, and plained in mournful tones

Mysterious to the barren wilderness;

And still in solitary spots my soul

Resumes its youth.-Think not that this is all

An idle folly; he who can draw a joy

From rocks, or woods, or weeds, or things that seem

All mute, and does it—is wise.

STANZAS.

And now with gleams of half extinguish'd thought,

With many recognitions dim and faint,

And somewhat of a sad perplexity,

The picture of the mind revives again.

Wordsworth.

I.

I HAVE liv'd many seasons: and I stand
Nor low nor lofty on this world at last :

Yet with some hope (which I cannot withstand)
I shall not wholly bow me to the blast,
Nor, all unknown, like a base weed be cast
Away, and wither in my wintry grave,

Shaming the soil that fed me: For the past—
'Tis gone and 'twould be idle now to rave

Of wasted hours, or mourn: I am not folly's slave.

II.

Yet, like a pestilence, despondence hung
Upon the spirit of my prime. In vain
I sought for cure: like wasting fire it clung
Against my heart: it struck upon my brain.
Then, like a lion bursting from his chain,
(For I was not the fool of phantasy)
I rush'd away, and rid me of my pain;
And, with that courage that becomes the free,
Stood on the verge again: safe-for at liberty.

III.

In deep embowering woods I built my home,
For Nature nurses best the sickly mind;
And when Apollo thro' my leafy dome

Came visiting, I rose: at eve, reclined,

I caught strange secrets from the whispering wind,
That with its cooling freshness bath'd my head
As with Olympian dews: 'twas then my mind
Gather'd its powers, and sickly visions fled.

I stood like a man new born-recover'd from the dead.

IV.

It is upon the mountains-the vast sea,

That we hear Nature's language: 'tis the tide

Which rolls for ever, speaks Eternity:'

The hills declare she is to Heaven allied,
And in the thunder comes her voice of pride:

Her mirror is the lake: her garb the field
With all the colours of the Iris dyed:

Somewhat of mighty moment does she yield

From every part. To me, her soul she hath revealed.

V.

For I did woo her in my carly youth,

And sought the marvels of her lonely ways;
And often in those fountain depths, where truth
Springs from its parent source, I loved to gaze,
And watch'd its many wanderings, where it strays
The world's rude rocks, and wildering woods among;
And where the elemental lightnings blaze

I've trod―aye, stood above 'em, while along

The precipice they play'd, wild, glittering, and strong.

VI.

I've roamed amongst the eternal Alps. I've stood
And gazed upon the diminish'd world below;
Marking, at frightful distance, field and flood,
And spire and town, like things of pigmy show,
Shrink into nothing: while those peaks of snow
(Which yet the winds themselves but seldom climb)
Arose like giants from the void below,

But fashion'd all for everlasting time:

Imperishable things-unstain'd, as 'twere, by crime.

VII.

Oh, ye unbending mountains! If ye be

Aught more than human view may contemplate-
If on your crowned heads the Deity

Rests his bright foot eternal, when in state

He bends arrayed in lightnings; consecrate

Then stand for ever. Perchance your heaven-ward look

Infused such feeling, strong and elevate,

That madness in the soul's bright temple shook.

Silent ye pointed high. I read as from a book.