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That slept so calmly while the nightly dew Moisten'd each fleece, beneath the twinkling

atari: Theae couch'd 'mid that lone Camp on Hardknot's height, Whose Guardian* bent the knee to Jove and

Mars: These near that mystic Round of Druid frame, Tardily sinking by its proper weight Deep into patient Earth, from whose smooth breast it came!


Sacred Religion, mother of form and fear,

Dread Arbitrcas of mutable respect,

New rites ordaining when the old arc

wreck'd. Or cease to please the fickle worshipper; If one strong wish may be embosomed here. Mother of Love! for this deep vale, protect Truth's holy lamp, pure source of bright

effect, Gifted to purge the vapoury atmosphere . That seeks to stifle it;—as in those days When this low Pile a Gospel-Teacher knew, Whose good works formed an endless retinue: Such Priest as Chaucer sang in fervent lays; Such as the heaven-taught skill of Herbert

drew; And tender Goldsmith crown'd with deathless



My frame hath often trembled with delight When hope presented some fur-distant good, That seemed from heaven descending, like

the flood Of yon pure waters, from their aery height, Hurrying with lordly Duddon to unite; Who, 'mid a world of images imprest On the calm depth of his transparent breast. Appears to cherish most that Torrent white, The fairest, softest, liveliest of them all! And seldom hath ear listen'd <o a tune More lulling thnn the busy hum of Noon, Swoln by that voire—whose murmur musical Announces to the thirsty fields a boon Dewy and fresh, till showers again shall fall.


Thk old inventive Poets, had they seen,
Or rather felt, the entmncrment that detains
Thy waters, Duddon! 'mid these flow'ry

The still repose, the liquid Inpse serene,
Transferr'd to bowers imperixhnbly green,
Had beautified KlysHiin! But these chains
Will soon be broken;—a rough course

remains. Hough as the past; where Thou, of placid


Innocuous as a firstling of a flock,

And countenanced like a soft cerulean aky,

Shalt change thy temper; and, with many

a shock Given and received in mutual jeopardy, Dance like a Bacchanal from rock to rock. Tossing her frantic thyrsus wide and high!


Whence that low voice?—A whisper from

the heart, That told of days long past when here I

roved With friends nnd kindred tenderly beloved; Some who had early mandates to depart. Yet ■in- allowed to steal my path athwart By Duddon's side; once more do we unite. Once more beneath the kind Earth's tranquil

light; And smother'd joys into new being start. From her unworthy seat, the cloudy stall Of Time, breaks forth triumphant Memory; Her glistening tresses bound, yet light and

free As golden locks of birch, that rise and fall On gales that breathe too gently to recal Aught of the fading year's inclemency!


A Love-lorn Maid, at some far-distant time. Came to this hidden pool, whose depths

surpass In crystal clearness Dian's looking-glass; And, gazing, saw that rose, which from

the prime Derives its name, reflected as the chime Of echo doth reverberate some sweet sound: The starry treasure from the blue profound She long'd to ravish;—shall she plunge, or

climb The humid precipice, and seize the guest Of April, smiling high in upper air? Desperate alternative! what fiend could dare To prompt the thought?—Upon the steep

rock's breast The lonely Primrose yet renews its bloom, Untouched memento of her hapless doom!


Sad thoughts, avaunt!—the fervour of the

year. Poured on the fleece-encumbered flock,

invites To laving currents, for prelusive rites Duly performed before the Dales-men shear Their panting charge. The distant mountains

hear. Hear and repeat, the turmoil that unites Clamour of boys with innocent despite*

Of barking dogs, and bleatings from strange

fear. Mcnnwhile.ifDuddon's spotless breast receive Unwelcome mixtures as the unroutli noise Thickens, the pastoral River will forgive Such wrong-; nor need tre hlnme the licensed

j<»ys Though false to Nature's quiet equipoise: Frank are the sports, the stains are fugitive.


Mid-noon is past;—upon the sultry mend
No zephyr breathes, no cloud its shadow

If we advance unstrcngthen'd by repose,
Farewell the solace of the vagrant reed.
This Nook, with woodbine hung and strag-
gling weed,
Tempting recess as ever pilgrim chose,
Half grot, hnlf arbour, proffers to enclose
Body and mind, from molestation freed,
In narrow compass—narrow as itself:
Or if the Fancy, too industrious Elf,
Be loth that we should breathe awhile exempt
From new incitements friendly to our task,
There wants not stealthy prospect, that may

tempt Loose Idles* to forego her wily mask.


MrrniMin 'twere no unprecedented feat
Should some: benignant Minister of air
Lift, and enrits-lc with a cloudy chair,
The One for whom my heart shall ever heat
With tenderest love;—or, if a safer seat
Atween his downy wings be furnished, there
Would lodge her, and the cherish'd burden

bear O'er hill and valley to this dim retreat! Kongh ways my steps have trod; too rough

and long For her companionship; here dwells soft ease: With sweets which she partakes not some

distaste Mingles, and lurking consciousness of wrong; Languish the flowers; the waters seem to

waste Their vocal charm; their sparklings cease

to please.


Returu, Content! for fondly I pursued, Even when a child, the Streams—unheard,

unseen; Through tangled woods, impending rock*

between; Or, free as air, with flying inquest viewed The sullen reservoirs whence their hold


Pure ns the morning, fretful, hnistcrnus,keen, Green us the suit-sea billows, white and green. Poured down the hills, a choral multitude! Nor have I tracked their course for scanty

gains; They taught me random cares and truant

joys. That shield from mischief and preserve from

stains Vague minds, while men are growing out

of boys; Maturer Fancy owes to their rough noise Impetuous thoughts that brook ui>t servile



I Kosk while yet the cattle, heat- nppresl,
Crowded together under rustling trees,
Brushed by the current of the water-breeze;
And for their sakes, and love of all that rest,
On Duddon's margin, in the sheltering nest;
For all the startled scaly tribes that slink
Into his coverts, and each fearless link
Of dancing insects forged upon his breast;
For these, and hopes and recollections worn
Close <n the vital seat of human clay;
Glad meetings—tender partings—that upstay
The drooping mind of absence, by vows

sworn In his pure presence near the trysting thorn; I thanked the Leader of my onward way.


No record tells of lance opposed to lance. Horse charging horse 'mid these retired

domains; Nor that their turf drank purple from the

veins Of heroes fall'n, or struggling to advance, Till doubtful combat issued in a trance Of victory, that struck through heart and

reins, Even to the inmost seat of mortal pains, And lightened o'er the pallid countenance. Yet, to the loyal and the brave, whs Ho In the blank earth, neglected and forlorn. The passing Winds memorial tribute pay; The Torrents ehiiunt their praise, inspiring

scorn Of power iisurp'd.—with proclamation high, And glad acknowledgment of lawful sway.


Wno- swerves from innocence, who mates

divorce Of that serene companion—a good name. Recovers not his loss; but walks with shame. With doubt, with fear, and haply with

remorse. And olt limes he, who. yielding to the force Of chance-temptation, ere his journey end, From chosen comrade turns, or faithful

friend, In vain shall rue the broken intercourse. Not so with such as loosely wear the chain That hinds them,pleasantRi vcr! to thy side:— Through the rough copse wheel Thou with

hasty stride, I choose to saunter o'er the grassy plain, Sure, when the separation has heen tried, That we, who part in love, shall meet again.


The Kirk of I'lpiia to the Pilgrim's eye
Is welcome as a Star, that doth present
Its shining forehead through the peaceful

Of a black cloud diffused o'er half the sky;
Or as a fruitful palm-tree towering high
O'er the parched waste beside an Arab's tent;
Or the Indian tree whose branches, down-
ward bent,
Take root again, a boundless canopy.
How sweet were leisure! could it yield no

more Than 'mid that wave-washed Church-yard

to recline, From pastoral graves extracting thoughts

divine; Or there to pace, and mark the summits hoar Of distant moon-lit mountains faintly shine, Sooth'd by the unseen River's gentle roar.


Not hurled precipitous from steep to steep; Lingering no more 'raid flower-enamelled

lands And blooming thickets; nor by rocky bands Held;—but in radiant progress tow'rd the

Deep Where mightiest rivers into powerless sleep Sink, and forget their nature ;—now expands Majestic Duddon, over smooth flat Rands, Gliding in silence with unfettered sweep! Beneath an ampler sky a region wide Is opened round him;—hnmlets, towers,

and towns, And blue-topp'd hills, behold him from afar; In stately mien to sovereign Thames allied, Spreading his bosom under Kentish downs, With Commerce freighted or triumphant



But here no cannon thunders to the gale;
Upon the wave no haughty pendants cast
A crimson splendour; lowly is the mnst
That rises here, and humbly spread the sail;
While less disturbed than in the narrow Vale
Through which with strange vicissitudes
he pass'd,

The Wanderer seeks that receptacle vast Where all his unambitious functions fail. And may thy Poet, cloud-born Stream! be

free. The sweets of earth contentedly resigned, And each tumultuous working left behind At seemly distance, to advance like Thee, Prepared, in peace of heart, in calm of mind And soul, to mingle with Eternity!


I THoircHT of Thee, my partner and my guide.

As being past away.—Vain sympathies!

For, backward, Duddon! as I east my eye*,

I sec what was, and is, and will abide;

Still glides the Stream, and shall for ever glide;

The Form remains, the Function never dies;

While ire, the lirav r.the mighty, and the wise.

We Men, who in our morn of youth defied

The elements, must vanish;—be it so!

Enough, if. something from our hands have power

To live, and act, and serve the future hour;

And if, as tow'rd the silent tomb we go,

Thro' love, thro' hope, and faith's transcendent dower,

We feel that we are greater than we know.



Ni'ks fret not nt their Convent's narrow room; And Hermits are contented with their Cells; And Students with their pensive Citadels: Maids at the Wheel, the Weaver at his Loom, Sit blithe and happy; Bees that soar for

bloom. High as the highest Peak of Furness Fells, Will murmur by the hour in Foxglove-bells: In truth, the prison, unto which we doom Ourselves, no prison is: and hence to me. In sundry moods, 'twas pastime to be bound Within the Sonnet's scanty plot of ground: Pleas'd if some Souls (for such there needs

must be) Who have felt the weight of too much

liberty, Should find short solace there, as I have



O tKMi.K Sleep! do they belong to thee,
These twinklings of oblivion? Thou dost love
To sit in meekness, like the brooding Dove.
A Captit c never wishing to be free.
This tiresome night, O Sleep! thou art to me
A Fly, that up anil down himself doth shove
Upon a fretful rivulet, now nhove,
Now on the water vexed with mockery.
I have no pain that calls for patience, no;
Hence am I cross and peevish as a child:
And pleas'd by fits to have thee for my foe,
Vet ever willing to be reconciled:
O gentle Creature! do not use me so,
But once and deeply let me be beguiled.


A Flock of sheep that leisurely pass by, One after one; the sound of rain, and bees Murmuring; the fall of rivers, winds and seas, Smooth fields, white sheets of water, and

pure sky; I've thought of all by turns; and still I lie Sleepless; and soon the small birds' melodies Must hear, first utter'dfrom my orchard-trees; And the first Cuckoo's melancholy cry. Even thus last night, and two nights more,

I lay, And could not win thee,Sleep! hy any stealth: So do not let me wear to-night away: Without Thee what is all the morning's

wealth'{ Come, blessed barrier betwixt day and day, Dear mother of fresh thoughts and joyous



Fosd words have oft been spoken to thee,

Sleep! And thou hast had thy store of tendcrest

names; The very sweetest words that fancy frames When thankfulness of heart is strong and

deep! Dear bosom-child wc call thee,that dost steep In rich reward all suffering; balm that tames All anguish; saint that evil thoughts and

aims Takest away, and into souls dost creep, Like to a breeze from heaven. Shall I alone, I surely not a man ungently made, Call thee worst Tyrant by which Flesh is

crost? Perverse, self■ vvill'd to own and to disown, Merc Slave of them who never for thee

pray'd, Still last to come where thou art wanted


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The Winds that will be howling at all hours And are up-gathered now like sleeping

flowers; For this, for every thing, we are nut of tunc; It moves us not—Grent God! I'd rather be A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn; So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Have glimpses that would make me less

forlorn: Have sight of Proteus coming from the sea; Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn.



Calvert! it must not be unheard by them
Who may respect my name that I to thee
Ow'd many years of early liberty.
This care was thine when sickness did

condemn Thy youth to hopeless wasting, root and

stem: That I, if frugal nnd severe, might stray Where'er I liked; and finally array My temples with the Muse's diadem. Hence, if in freedom I have lov'd the truth, If there be aught of pure, or good, or great, In my past verse; or shall be, in the lays Of higher mood, which now I meditate, It gladdens me, oh worthy,short-lived Youth! To think how much of this will be thy praise.


I Griev'd for Buonaparte, with a vain
And an unthinking grief! for, who aspires
To genuine greatness hut from just desires
And knowledge such as He could never gain?
'Tis not in battles that from youth wc train
The Governor who must be wise and good,
And temper with the sternness of the brain
Thoughts motherly .ami meek as womanhood.
Wisdom doth live with children round her

knees: Books, leisure, perfect freedom, and the talk Man holds with week-day man in the hourly

walk Of the mind's business: these arc the degrees By which true Sway doth mount; this is

the stalk True Power doth grow on; and her rights

are these.



Toussunt, the most unhappy Man of Men! Whether the all-cheering Sun be free to shed His beam* around thee, or thou rest thy head Pillowed in some dark dungeon's noisome den, O miserable chieftain! where aid when

Wilt thou find patience? Yet die not; do

thou Wear rather in thy honds a chearful brow: Though fallen Thyself, never to rise again, Live,and take comfort. Thou hast left behind Powers that will work for thee; air, earth,

and skies; There's not a breathing of the common wind That will forget thee; thou hast great allies; Thy friends are exultations, agonies, And love, and Man's unconquerable mind.



On the Day of landing.

Dk\r fellow-traveller! here we arc once

more. The Cork that crows, the smoke that curls,

that sound Of bells, those Boys that in yon meadowground In white-slecv'd shirts are playing, and the

roar Of the waves breaking on the chalky shore,— All, all are English. Oft have I lnok'd round With joy in Kent's green vales; but never

found Myself so satisfied in henrt before. Europe is yet in bonds; but let that pass, Thought for another moment. Thnn nrt free My Country! nnd 'tis joy enough and pride For one hour's perfect bliss, to tread the

grass Of England once again, and hear and see, With such a dear Companion at my side.


Two Voices are there: one is of the Sea, One of the Mountains; each a mighty Voice: In both from age to age Thou didst rejoice, They were thy chosen Music, Liberty! There came a Tyrant, nnd with holy glee Thou foughtst against Him; but hast vainly

striven; Thou from thy Alpine Holds ut length art

driven, Where not a torrent murmurs heard by tlicc. Of one deep bliss thine ear hath been bereft: Then cleave, oh cleave to that which still

is left! For, high siml'il Maid, what sorrow would

it be That mountain-floods should thunder as

before. And Ocean bellow from his rocky shore. And neither awful Voice be heard by thee!


Gheit Men have been nmnng ns; hands

that penn'd And tongues that utter'd wisdom,better mine: The later Sydney, Marvel, Harrington, Young Vane, and others who call'd .Milton

Friend. These Moralists could net and comprehend: They knew how genuine glory was put on; Taught us how rightfully a nation shone In splendor: what strength was, that would

not bend But in mngnnnimnus meekness. France, *tia

strange, Hath brought forth no such souls as we had

Perpetual emptiness! unceasing change!
No single Volume paramount, no rode,
No master-spirit, no determined road;
But equally a want of Books and Ment



August, |H()3.

Fair Star of Evening, Splendor of the West, Star of my Country! on the horizon's brink Thou hangest, stooping, as might seem,

to sink On England's bosom; yet well pleas'd to rest. Meanwhile, and be to her a glorious crest Conspicuous to the Nations. Thou, I think, Shouldst be my Country's emblem; and

shouldst wink. Bright Stnr! with laughter on her banners,

drest In thy fresh beauty. There! that dusky spot Beneath thee, it is England; there it lies. Blessings be on you both! one hope, one lot. One life, one glory! I, with many a fear For my dear Country, many heartfelt sighs. Among Men who do not love her, linger here.


Si-ptcmber, 18M.

O Friend! I know not which way I must

look For comfort, being, as I am, o|ipr«'nt. To think thnt now our life is only drest For shew; mean handy work of craftsman,

cook, Or groom! We must run glittering like a

brook In the open sunshine, or we are nnblest: The wealthiest man among us is the best: No grandeur now in nature or in book Delights us. Rapine, avarice, expence, This is idolatry; and these we adore: Plain living and high thinking are no more:

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