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Creature none can she decoy
Yet, whate'er enjoyments dwell
TO THE CUCKOO.
0 Slitiib New-comer! I have heard,
1 hear thee and rejoice:
0 Cuckoo! shall I call thee Bird,
While I am lying on the grass,
1 hear thee babbling to the Vale
And unto me thou bringst a tale
Thrice welcome. Darling of the Spring!
Even yet thou art to me
>o Bird; but an invisible Thing,
A voice, a mystery.
The same whom in my school boy-days
To seek thee did I often rove
And I can listen to thee yet;
O blessed Bird! the earth we pace
TimiK is a Yew-tree, pride of Lorton-Vale, Which to this day stands single, in the midst Of its own darkness, as it stood of yore, Nor loth to furnish weapons for the Bands Of Umfraville and Percy ere they marched To Scotland's Heaths; or those that crossed
the Sea And drew their sounding bows at Azincour, Perhaps at earlier Crecy, or Poictiera. Of vast circumference nnd gloom profound This solitary Tree!—a living thing Produced too slowly ever to decay; Of form and aspect too magnificent To be destroyed. But worthier still of note Are those fraternal FoHr of Borrowdale, Joined in one solemn and capacious grove; Huge trunks!—and each particular trunk a
growth Of intertwisted fibres serpentine, Up-coiling, and invctcratcly convolved.— Nor uniformed with Phantasy, and looks That threaten the profane; — n pillared
shade. Upon whose grnsslcss floor of red-brown hue, By sheddings from the pining umbrage
tinged Perennially—beneath whose sable roof Of boughs, as if for festal purpose, decked With unrejoicing berries, ghostly Shapes May meet at noontide—Fear and trembling
Hope, Silence and Foresight—Death the Skeleton, And^Time the Shadow,—there to celebrate, As in a natural temple scattered o'er With altars undisturbed of mossy stone. United worship; or in mute repose To lie, and listen to the mountain-flood Murmuring from Glaramara's inmost caves.
VIEW FROM THE TOP OF BLACK COMB.
This Height a ministering; Angel might
select: For from the summit of Black Comb (dread
name Derived from clouds and storms!) the amplest range Of unobstructed prospect may be seen That British ground commands:—low dusky
tract*, Where Trent is nursed, far southward!
Cambrian Hills To the south-west, a multitudinous show; And, in a line of eye-sight linked with these, The hoary Peaks of Scotland that give birth To Tiviot's Stream, to Annan, Tweed, and
Clyde;— Crowding the quarter whence the sun comes
forth Gigantic Mountains rough with crags;
beneath, Right at the imperial Station's western base. Main Ocean, breaking audibly, and stretched Far into silent regions blue and pale;— And visibly engirding Mnna's Isle That, ns we left the Plain, before our sight Stood like a lofty Mount, uplifting slowly, (Above the convex of the watery globe) Into clear view the cultured fields that streak Its habitable shores; but now appears A dwindled object, and submits to lie At the Spectator's feet.—Yon azure Ridge, Is it a perishable cloud? Or there Do wc behold the frame of Erin's Coast? Land sometimes by the roving shepherdswain, Like the bright confines of another world, Not doubtfully perceived.—Look homeward
now! In depth, in height, in circuit, how serene The spectacle, how pure!—Of Nature's
Works, In earth, and air, and earth-embracing sea, A Revelation infinite it seems; Display august of man's inheritance, Of Britain's calm felicity and power.
-it seems a day,
(I speak of one from many singled out)
At thorns, and brakes, and brambles,—and,
in truth, More ragged than need was. Among the
woods; And o'er the pathless rocks, I forced my way Until, at length, I came to one dear nook Unvisited, where not a broken bough Drooped with its withered leaves, ungracious sign Of devastation, but the hazels rose Tall and erect,with milk-white clusters hung, A virgin-scene!—A little while I stood. Breathing with such suppression of the heart As joy delights in; and, with wise restraint Voluptuous, fearless of a rival, eyed The banquet,—or beneath the trees I sate. Among the flowers, and with the flowers I
played; A temper known to those, who, after long And weary expectation, have been blessed With sudden happiness beyond all hope.— Perhaps it was a bower beneath whose
leaves The violets of five seasons re-appear And fade, unseen by any human eye; Where fairy water-breaks do murmur on For ever,—and I saw the sparkling foam. And with my cheek on one of those green
stones Thill, fleeced with moss, beneath the shady
trees. Lay round me, scattered like a flock of sheep. I heard the murmur and the murmuring
sound. In that sweet mood when pleasure loves to
pay Tribute to ease; and, of its joy secure. The heart luxuriates with indifferent things. Wasting its kindliness on stocks and stones. And on the vacant air. Then up I rose. And dragged to earth both branch and bough.
with crash And merciless ravage; and the shady nook Of hazels, and the green and mossy bower. Deformed and sullied, patiently gave up Their quiet being: and, unless I now Confound my present teelings with the past. Even then, when from the bower I turned
awny Exulting, rich beyond the wealth of kings, I felt a sense of pain when I beheld The silent trees and the intruding sky.— Then, dearest Maiden! move along these
shades In gentleness of heart; with gentle hand Touch—for there Is a spirit in the wood*.
THE PERFECT WOMAN.
SriF was a Phantom of delight
When first she gleamed upon my sight;
A lovely Apparition, sent
To be a moment's ornament;
Her eyes ns stars of Twilight fair;
I saw her upon nearer view,
A Spirit, yet a Woman too!
Her household-motions light and free,
And steps of virgin-liberty;
A countenance in which did meet
Sweet records, promises as sweet;
A Creature not top bright or good
For human nature's daily food;
For transient sorrows, simple wiles,
Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.
And now I see with eye serene
Thrk* years she grew in sun and shower,
Then Nature said: A lovelier flower
On earth was never sown;
This Child I to myself will take;
She shall be mine, and I will make
A Lady of my own.
Myself will to my darling be
Holli law and impulse: and with me
The Girl, in rock and plain.
In earth and heaven, in glade and bower,
Shall feel an overseeing power
To kindle or restrain.
She shall be sportive as the Fawn
The floating Clouds their state shall lend
To her; for her the willow bend;
Jjor shall she fail to see
E»cn in the motions of the storm
Grace that shall mould the Maiden's form
"y silent sympathy.
The Stars of midnight shall be dear
To her; and she shall lean her ear
In many a secret place
Where Rivulets dance their wayward round,
And beauty born of murmuring sound
Shall pass into her face.
And vital feelings of delight
Shall rear her form to stately height,
Her virgin-bosom swell;
Such thoughts to Lucy I will give
While she and I together live
Here in this happy Hell.
Thus Nature spake—the work was done—
How soon my Lucy's race was run!
She died, and left to me
This heath, this calm, and quiet scene;
The memory of what has been,
And never more will be.
GOODY BLAKE AND HARRY GILL.
A TRUE STOH.Y.
Oh! what's the matter? what's the matter?
In March, December, and in July,
Young Harry was a lusty drover,
All day she spun in her poor dwelling:
By the name fire to lioil their pottage.
But when the ice our streams did fetter,
Oh joy for her! Whene'er in winter
Now, when the frost was past enduring,
Now Harry he had long suspected
And once, behind a rick of barley.
Right glad was he when he beheld her:
And fiercely by the arm he took her.
And by'the arm he held her fast.
And fiercely by the arm he shook her.
And cried: I've caught you then at last!
Then Goody, who had nothing said,
Her bundle from her lap let fall;
And, kneeling on the sticks, she prayed
To God that is the judge of all.
She prayed, her withered hand uprearing.
He went complaining all the morrow
That he was cold, and very chill:
His face was gloom, his heart was sorrow,
Alas! that day for Harry Gill!
That day he wore a riding-coat.
But not a whit the warmer he:
Another was on Thursday brought,
And ere the Sabbath he had three.
'Twas all in vain, a useless matter—
No word to any man he utters,
I Waivdkked lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er Vales and Hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host of golden Daffodils;
Beside the Lake, beneath the trees.
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine,
The witifs beside them danced, but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:—
A Poet could not but be gay
In Midi a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the shew to me had brought
For oft when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude,
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the Daffodils.
POWER OF MUSIC.
An Orpheus! An Orpheus!—yes, Faith may grow bold,
And take to herself all the wonders of old;—
Near the stately Pantheon you'll meet with the same,
In the street that from Oxford hath borrowed its name.
Hii station is there;—and he works on the
crowd, He sways them with harmony merry and
loud; He fills with his power all their hearts to
the brim— Was aught ever heard like his fiddle and him!
What an eager assembly! what an empire
is this! The weary have life and the hungry have
bliss! The mourner is cheered, and the anxious
have rest; And the guilt-burthened soul is no longer
At the Moou brightens round her the clouds of the night,
So he where he stands is a center of light;
It gleams on the face, there, of dusky-browed Jack,
And the palc-visaged Baker's, with basket on back.
That errand-bound 'Prentice was passing
in haste— "hat matter! he's caught—and his time
runs to waste— The News-man is stopped, though he stops
on the fret, And the half-breathless Lamp-lighter he's
in the net!
The Porter sits down on the weight which
he bore; The Lass with her barrow wheels hither
her store;— |
If a Thief could be here he might pilfer at
ease; She sees the Musician, 'tis all that she sees!
He stands, back'd by the Wall;—he abates not his din;
His hat gives him vigour, with boons dropping in,
From the Old and the Young, from the Poorest; und there!
The one-pennied Boy has his penny to spare.
0 blest are the Hearers and proud be the
Hand Of the pleasure it spreads through so thankful a Band;
1 am glad for him, blind as he is!—all the
while If they speak 'tis to praise, and they praise with a smile.
That tall Man, a Giant in bulk and in height, Not an inch of his body is free from delight; Can he keep himself still, if he would V oh,
not he! The music stirs in him like wind through
There's a Cripple who leans on his Crutch;
like a Tower That long has lean'd forward, leans hour
after hour!— A Mother, whose Spirit in fetters is bound. While she dandles the babe in her arms to
Now, Coaches and Chariots, roar on like a
stream; Here are twenty souls happy as Souls in a
dream: They are deaf to your muVmurs—they care
not for you, Nor what ye are flying, or what ye pursue!
GLEN-ALMAIN, OR THE NARROW GLEN.
In this still place, remote from men
Sleeps Ossian, in the Narrow Glen;
In this still place, where murmurs on
But one meek Streamlet, only one:
He sang of battles, and the breath
Of stormy war, and violent death;
And should, methinks, when all was past,
Have rightfully been laid at last
Where rocks were rudely heup'd, and rent
As by a spirit turbulent;
Where sights were rough, and sounds were
wild, And every thing unreconciled;