The Conqueror, crowns the Conquer'd, on this brow Planting his favourite silver diadem, To run before him, hath enrolled me yet, Though not unmenaced, among those who lean Upon a living staff, with borrowed sight. The cheerful dawn brightening for me the east; For me, thy natural Leader, once again Thy nymph-like step swift-bounding o'er Trembled the groves, the stars grew pale, Transparent as the soul of innocent youth, While all-too-daringly the veil Of Nature was withdrawn! Nor such the spirit-stirring note And not unhallow'd was the page Love listening while the Lesbian Maid O ye who patiently explore That were, indeed, a genuine birth TO MY DAUGHTER. "A LITTLE onward lend thy guiding hand To these dark steps, a little further on!" -What trick of memory to my voice hath brought, This mournful iteration? For though Time, Let me, thy happy Guide, now point thy way, Is seized with strong incitement to push forth And yet more gladly thee would I conduct Through woods and spacious forests,-to behold There, how the Original of human art, Heaven-prompted Nature, measures and erects Her temples, fearless for the stately work, Though waves in every breeze its higharched roof, And storms the pillars rock. But we such schools Of reverential awe will chiefly seek Reposing here, and in the aisles beyond Re-open now thy everlasting gates, Unfold again your portals! Passage lles Through you to heights more glorious still, and shades More awful, where this Darling of my care, RIVER DUDDON. A SERIES OF XXXIII SONNETS. The River Duddon rises upon Wrynose Fell, on the confines of Westmoreland, Cumberland, and Lancashire; and, serving as a boundary to the two latter counties, for the space of about twenty five miles, enters the Irish sea, between the Isle of Walncy and the lordship of Millum. I. throw Nor envying shades which haply yet may Heedless of Alpine torrents thundering Better to breathe upon this aëry height Than pass in needless sleep from dream to dream; Pure flow the verse, pure, vigorous, free, and bright, For Duddon, long lov'd Duddon, is my theme! II. CHILD of the clouds! remote from every taint Thy cradle decks;-to chaunt thy birth, thou hast No meaner Poet than the whistling Blast, would not spare Those mighty forests, once the bison's screen, Where stalk'd the huge deer to his shaggy lair Through paths and alleys roofed with sombre green, Thousands of years before the silent air Was pierced by whizzing shaft of hunter keen! Than a soft record that whatever fruit Of ignorance thou mightst witness heretofore, Thy function was to heal and to restore, remains of hawthorn- To soothe and cleanse, not madden and VI. ERE yet our course was graced with social It lacked not old trees pollute! WHAT aspect bore the Man who roved or The struggle, clap their wings for victory! fled, First of his tribe, to this dark dell-who first In this pellucid Current slaked his thirst? What hopes came with him? what designs were spread Along his path? His unprotected bed What dreams encompass'd? Was the Intruder nurs'd In hideous usages, and rites accurs'd, That thinned the living and disturbed the dead? No voice replies;-the earth, the air is mute; And Thou, blue Streamlet, murmuring yieldst no more XI. No fiction was it of the antique age: Her grief with, as she might!—But, where, | By fits and starts, yet this contents thee not. oh where Thee hath some awful Spirit impelled to leave, Is traceable a vestige of the notes O'er twilight-fields the autumnal gossamer? XII. ON, loitering Muse! The swift Stream chides us-on! Albeit his deep-worn channel doth immure Shall find such toys of Fancy thickly set:- XIII. must; Utterly to desert, the haunts of men, Though simple thy companions were and few; And through this wilderness a passage cleave Attended but by thy own voice, save when The Clouds and Fowls of the air thy way pursue! XV. FROM this deep chasm-where quivering sun-beams play Upon its loftiest crags-mine eyes behold |