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To fancy seem, in that strange solitude, Like the wild brethren of some lawless hand. Onc.snuteliing from the heap a blazing bough, Would, like lone mnniac, from the rent retire, And, as he waved it, mutter deep a vow, His head encircled with a wreath of fire. Others, with rushing haste, and eager voice, Would drag new victims to the insatiate
power, That like a savage idol did rejoice Whate'er his suppliants ofler'd to devour. And aye strange murmurs o'er the mountains roll'd, As if from sprite immured in cavern Innc, While higher rose pale Luna to behold Our mystic orgies, where no light had shone, For many and many a year of silence—but her own
O! gracious Goddess! not in vain did shine Thy spirit o'er the heavens; with reverent eye Wc hail'd thee floating through the happy
sky; No smiles to us are half so dear as thine! Silent we stood beside our dying flame, In pensive sadness, born of wild delight, And gazing heavenward many a gentle name BestowM on her who beautifies the night. Then, with one heart, like men who inly
mourn'd, Slowly we paced towards our fairy-cell, And ere we enter'd for one moment turn'd And bade the silent majesty farewell! Our rushy beds invite us to repose; And while our spirits breathe a grateful
prayer, In balmy slumbers soon our eyelids close, While, in our dreams, the Moon, serenely
fair, Still bathes in light divine the visionary air!
Mcthinks, next night, I see her mount
her throne, Intent with loving smile once more to hail The deep, deep peace of this her loneliest
vale; —But where hath now the magic dwelling
flown? Oh! it hath melted like a dream away, A dream by far too beautiful for earth; Or like a cloud that hath no certain stay, But ever changing, like n different birth. The aged holly-trees more silently, N ow we are gone, stand on the silent ground; I seem to hear the streamlet floating by With a complaining, melancholy sound. Hush'd are the echoes in each mountain1*
breast, No traces there of former mirth remain; They all in friendly grandeur lie at rest And silent, save where Nature's endless
strain, From cataract and cave, delights her lonely
Yet, though the strangers and their tent nave past Away, like snow that leaves no mark behind. Their image lives in many a guiltless mind, And long within the shepherd's cot shall last. Oft when, on winter-night, the crowded seat Is closely wheel'd before the blazing fire, Then will he love with grave voice to repeat (He, the gray-headed venerable sire) The conversation he with us did hold On moral subjects, he had studied long; And some, will gibe the maid who was so
hold As sing to strangers readily a song. Then they unto each other will rccal Each little incident of that strange night, And give their kind opinion of us all: God bless their faces smiling in the light Of their own cottage-hearth! O, fair subduing sight!
Friends of my heart! who shared that purest joy. And oft will read these lines with soften'd
soul, Go where wc will, let yenrs of absence roll. Nought shall our sacred amity destroy. We walk'd together through the mountaincalm, In open confidence, and perfect trust; And pleasure, falling through our breasts
like balm, Told that the yearnings that we felt were justNo Blighting tone, no chilling look e'er marr'd The happiness in which our thoughts reposed. No words save those of gentleness were
heard, The eye spoke kindly when the lip was
closed. But chief, on that blest day that wakes my
■ong, Our hearts eternal truth in silence swore: The holy oath is planted deep and strong Within our spirits,—in their inmost core.— And it shall blossom fair till life shall be no more!
Most hallow'd day! scarce can my heart
sustain Your tender light by memory made mere
mild; Tears could I shed even like unto a rhiM. And sighs within my spirit hush the strainToo many clouds have dimm'd my youthfal
life, These wnkeful eyes top many vigils Lrpt; Mine hath it been to toss in mental strife. When in the moonlight breathing Naiare
slept. But I forget my cares, in bliss forget. When, peaceful Valley! I remember thrr; I seem to breathe the air of joy, and yrl Thy bright'ning hues with moisten'd eyes
So Mill it lie, till life itself doth close, llnaiu though I may o'er many a distant
clime; Happy, or pining in unnoticed woes, Oft shall my soul recal that blessed time, Aid in her depths adore the beauteous and
Time that my rural reed at last should
0 gentlest Lady! Sister of my friend,
1 ith cold regard, thou wife and mother blest!
In gladness go, and free from every fear,
* DBBtM-LIKB REMEMBRA1SCB OP A DREAM.
It chanced three merry Fairies met "_»the bridge of a mountain-rivulet, "hose hanging arch through the misty
spray, j*M a little lunar-rainbow lay, J 'lh turf and flowers a pathway meet, '<" the twinkling of unearthly feet, '"■bright were the flowers as their golden
tresses, ***' green the tnrf as their Elfin-dresses. Ave the water o'er the Linn "*« mocking, with a gleesome din, j" mall shrill laughter, as it broke '' P«ls from these night-wandering Folk;' "hile the stream danced on with a tinkling
in L tune'
•« sappy to meet by a blink o' the moon.
£•* l»nghing louder than before,
j "jy strove to deaden that ceaseless roar;
Aw. when vanquished was the waterfall,
[*•*> liiey shouted, one and all,
kle the chorus of a Madrigal,
Jill the glen awoke from its midnight trance,
And o'er the hills in flight-like dance,
"*• all the troop of echoes driven,
ihu moment on earth, and that in heaven.
From the silent heart of a hollow Yew, n>« Owl sailed forth with a loud halloo;
And his large yellow eyes looked bright
downward; They pulled at his horns, and with many
a tweak, Around and around they screwed his beak; On his back they beat with a birch-spray
flail, And they tore the long feathers from his
tail; Then, like warriors mounted in their pride. Behind his wings behold them ride! And shonting, charge unto the war, Each waving his soft plume-scymitar; A war of laughter, not of tears, The wild-wood's harmless Cuirassiers.
Through the depth of Ivy on the wall (The sole remains of old Greystock Hall) The Screamer is driven, half scared to death; And the gamesome Fairies, all out of
breath, Their tiny robes in the air arranging, And kisses in their flight exchanging, Now slowly with the soft wind stealing Right onwards, round about now wheeling, Like leaves blown off in gusty weather, To the rainbow-bridge all flock together; And lo! on the green moss all alight, Like a cluster of Goldfinches mingling bright.
What feats the Fairy-Creatnrcs played! Now seeming of the height afraid, And, folding the moss in fast embraces, They peeped o'er the bridge with their lovely faces. Now hanging like the fearless flowers By their tiny arms in the cataract - showers, Swung back and forward with delight, Like pearls in the spray - shower burning
bright! Then they dropt at once into the pool— A moment gone! then beautiful Ascending on slow-hovering wing, As if with darkness dallying, They rose again, through the smiling air, To their couch of moss and flow'rets fair, And rooted lay in silence there.
Down into the gulf profound Slid the stream without a sound! A charm had hushed the thundering shocks, And stillness s.teeped the blackened rocks.
'Twas fit, where these fair things were lying,
Throngh Fairy-bosoms breathed in vain;
Soon as the lingering Sun was gone,
0 beauteous sight! the Shepherd cried,
1 had flown o'er Grassniere's moonlight-flood, And the rustling swing of old Rydal-Wood, And sunk down 'mid the heather-bells
On the shady side of sweet Furness-Fells.
But what had I with the Lake to do?
In the soft moonlight-glnw I knew
sight, And with mellower lustre bade them spring In the yellow round of the Fairy's ring. Till, methought, the hillside smiled afar, With the face of many a verdant Star. 1 marked the Fox at the mouth of his den. And raised the shadows of Hunter-men, And I bade aerial beagles rave, And the horn twang through the Felon's cave. Then buried him with Famine in his grave.
The Raven sat upon Langdale-Peak
sleep. Away I sailed by the Eagle's nest And the Eaglets couched warm beneath her
breast, But the Shepherd shall miss her cry at
morn, For her eyes are dim and her plumage torn. And I left in their Eyrie the Imps accurst To die in their hunger, and cold, and thirst. All, all is well with my lovely Flocks! And so I dropt suddenly down the rocks, From Loughrig-top, like a falling Star, Seen doubtless through the mists afar By a hundred Shepherds on the Hill Wandering among the Moonlight still. And with folded wings and feet earth bound I felt myself standing o'er the sound Of this Waterfall, and with joy espied A Sister-Elf at either side! My Tale is told—nor strange nor new— Now, sweet Lady Bright-Eyes! what say
As some wild Night-Flowcr through tke
dew Looks to the Moon with freshened hue. When a wandering breath of air Hath lifted up its yellow hair. And its own little glade grows bright At the soft rcvealment of its light: Unsprung, so sudden and so sweet, The Cottagk-fairy to her feet; And, looking round her with a smile, Silent the Creature paused awhile. Uncertain what glad thoughts should bwrst In music from her spirit first, Till, like a breath breathed clear frsjssi
Heaven, To her at once a voice was given, And through the tune the words amir As through the fragrant dew the leaflets) •'
Sisters! I have seen this night
A hundred Cottage-Fires burn bright,
And a thousand happy faces shining
In the bursting blaze and the gleam declining.
I care not I for the stars above,
The lights on earth are the lights I love:
Let Venus bless the Evening-air,
I prise at morn Prince Lucifer,
Bat those little tiny stars be mine
That through the softened copse-wood shine,
With beauty crown the pastoral hill,
And glimmer o'er the sylvan rill,
Where stands the peasant's ivied nest,
And the huge mill-wheel is at rest.
From out the honeysuckle's bloom
I peeped into that laughing room,
Then, like a hail-drop, on the pane
Pattering, I stilled the din again,
While every startled eye looked up;
And, half-raised to her lips the cup,
The rosy Maiden's look met mine!
Bat I veiled mine eyes with the silken twine
Of the small wild roses clustering thickly;
Then to her seat returning quickly;
She Van to talk with bashful glee
Of Fairies 'neatli the greenwood-tree
Dancing by moonlight, and she blest
Gently our silent Land of rest.
The Infants playing on the floor,
At these wild words their sports gave o'er,
And asked where lived the Cottage-Fairy;
The maid replied: She loves to tarry
Ofttunes beside our very* hearth,
And joins in little Children's mirth
When they are gladly innocent;
And sometimes beneath the leafy tent,
That murmurs round our cottage-door,
Onr overshadowing Sycamore,
We see her dancing in a ring,
And hear the blessed Creature sing—
A Creature full of gentleness,
Rejoicing in oar happiness.—
Then plucked I a wreath with many a gem
Baming—a flowery Diadem;
And through the wicket with a glide
I 'lipped, and sat me down beside
The youngest of those Infants fair,
And wreathed the blossoms round her hair.
Who placed these flowers on William's head?
'•>• little wondering Sister said,
A wreath not half so bright and gay
Crowned me. upon the morn of May,
Queen of that sunny Holiday,
The tiny Monarch laughed aloud
With pride among the loving crowd,
And, with my shrillest voice, I lent
A chorus to their merriment;
Then with such murmur as a bee
Makes, from a flower-cup suddenly
Borne off into the silent sky,
I •kimmcd away, and with delight
Nailed down the calm stream of the night,
Till gently, as a flake of Snow,
Once more I dropt on earth below,'
And girdled, as with a rainbow-zone. The Cot beloved I call mine own.
Sweet Cot! that on the raountain-side Looks to the stars of Heaven with pride, And then flings far its smiling cheer O'er the radiant Isles of Windermere,— Blest! ever blest! thy sheltered roof! Pain, grief, and trouble, stand aloof From the shadow of thy green palm-tree! Let nought from Heaven e'er visit thee. But dews, and rays, and sounds of mirth; And ever may this happy Earth Look happiest round thy small domain! Thee were I ne'er to see again, Mcthinks that agony and strife Would fall even on a Fairy's life, And nought should ever bless mine eyes Save the dream of that vanished Paradise. The hush'd bee-hives were still as death— And the sleeping doves held fast their
breath, Nestling together on the thatch; With my wing-tip I raised the latch, And there that lovely Lady shone, In silence sitting all alone. Beside the cradle of her Child! And ever as she gazed, she smiled On his calm forehead white as snow; I rock'd the cradle to and fro, As on the broom a Linnet's nest Swings to the mild wind from the west; And oft his little hands and breast, With warm and dewy lips I hist. Sweet Fairy! the glad Mother said, And down she knelt as if she prayed— While glad was I to hear our name Bestowed on such a beauteous frame, And with my wings I hid mine eyes, Till I saw the weeping kneelcr rise From her prayer in holy extacies!
The Cottage-fairy ceased; and Night, That seem'd to feel a calm delight In the breath of that sweet-warbling tongue, Was sad at closing of the song. And all her starry eyne look'd dull, Of late so brightly beautiful; Till on the Fox-glove's topmost cup The Fairy Of The Lake leapt up, And with that gorgeous column swinging, By fits a low wild prelude singing, And gracefully on tip-toe standing, With outstretched arm, as if commanding, The benuty of the Night again Revived beneath her heavenly strain.— Low, sad, and wild, were the tones I heard, Like the opening song of the hidden bird, Ere music steeps th' Italian vales From the heart of a thousand nightingales; But words were none; the balmy air Grew vocal round that Elfin fair, And, like her fragrant breath, the song Dropp'd. dewily from that sweet tongue,
But 'twas a language of her own,
To grosser human sense unknown;
And while in blissful reverie
My soul lived on that melody,
In a moment all as death was still:
1'hen, like an eeho in a hill
Far ofl" one melancholy strain!
Too heavenly pure to rise again,—
And all alone the dreamer stood
Beside the disenchanted flood,
That rolled the rocky banks along
With its Own dull, slow, mortal song.
—Whatwofted off the Fairies? hush!
The storm comes down the glen—crush—
crush— And as the blackening rain-cloud broke, The pine-tree groans to the groaning oak! Thunder is in the waving wood— And from Rydal-mere's white-flashing flood There comes through the mist an angry roar, Loud as from the great sea-shore. Well, I ween, the Fairies knew The clouds that the sudden tempest brew, And had heard far-ofl* the raging rills. As they leapt down from a hundred hills,— And the ghostlike moan that wails and raves From the toppling crags and the sable caves,— Krc the night-storm in his wroth doth come, And bids each meaner sound be dumb— So they sailed away to the land of rest, Each to the spot that it loved the best, And left our noisy world!
WRITTEN ON READING THE MEMOIRS OP
Miss Elisabeth Smith.
Peace to the dead! the voice of Nature
cries. Even o'er the grave where guilt or frailty
lies; Compassion drives each sterner thought
away. And all seem good when mouldering in the
clay. For who amid the dim religious gloom, The solemn Sabbath brooding o'er the tomb, The holy stillness that suspends our breath When the soul rests within the shade of
death. What heart could then withhold the pensive
sigh Reflection pays to poor mortality, Nor sunk in pity near allied to love, E'en bless the being we could ne'er approve! The headstrong will with innocence at strife, The restless passions that deform'd his life, Desires that spurn'd at reason's weak controul, And dimm'd the native lustre of the soul. The look repulsive that like ice repress'd The friendly warmth that play'd within the
The Blighting word, through heedlessness
severe. Wounding the spirit that it ought to cheer. Lie buried in the grave! or if they live. Remembrance only wakes them to forgive; While vice and error steal a soft relief From the still twilight of a mellowing grief. And oh! how lovely do the tints return Of every virtue sleeping in the urn! Each grace that fleeted unobserved away. Starts into life when those it deck'd decay; Regret fresh beauty on the corse bestows. And self-reproach is mingled with our woes.
But nobler sorrows lift the musing mind. When soaring spirits leave their frames
behind. Who walked the world in Nature's generous
pride. And, like a sun-beam, lighten'd as they died! Hope, resignation, the sad soul beguile. And Griefs tear drops 'mid Faith's celestial
Then burns our being with a holy mirth That owns no kindred with this mortal earth: For hymning angels in blest vision waive Their wings' bright glory o'er the seraph's
Oh thou! whose soul unmoved by earthly
strife. Led by the pole-star of eternal life, Own'd no emotion* stain'd by touch of clay. No thought that nngels might not pleased
survey; Thou! whose calm course through Virtue's
fields was run From youth's fair morning to thy setting
sun. Nor vice e'er dared one little clond to roll O'er the bright beauty of thy spotless soul: Thou! wh.o secure in good works strong to
save, Resign'd and happy, eyed'st the openisx
grave. And in the blooming summer of thy years Scarce feltst regret to leave this vale sf
tears; Oh! from thy throne amid the starry skies. List to my words thus interwove with KichAnd if the high resolves, the cherish'd -ail That prompt the weak but reverential strain. If love of virtue ardent and sincere Can win to mortal verse a cherub's ear. Bend from thy radiant throne thy form
divine. And make the adoring spirit pure as this*' When my heart muses o'er the long re-new Of all thy bosom felt, thy reason knew. O'er boundless learning free from boastfsl
pride. And patience humble though severely trissL Judgment unclouded, passions thrirr rrBocd, A heaven-aspiring loftiness of mind.