388 WILLIAM WORDSWORTH'S MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. EXTRACTS FROM “THE EXCURSION.' The voice of gladness, less and less supply PHILOSOPHY! and thou more vaunted name Where are your triumphs? your dominion And in what age admitted and confirmed? Inspired, and thoroughly fortified?-If the heart Could be inspected to its inmost folds For one day's little compass, has preserved Of outward sunshine and internal warmth; And with this change, sharp air and falling leaves, Foretelling total Winter, blank and cold. Alas! what differs more than man from man! For see the universal Race endowed sense Even as an object is sublime or fair, And frustrate all the rest! Believe it not: If to the poetry of common speech In spite of many a rough untoward blast, Where is she imaged? in what favoured clime no more No mystery it here, no special boon To heaven as lightly from the cottage-hearth So wide a difference betwixt Man and Man. SAMUEL ROGERS. THE PLEASURES OF MEMORY. On could my mind, unfolded in my page, Enlighten climes and mould a future age; There as it glowed, with noblest frenzy fraught, Dispense the treasures of exalted thought; My life, my manners, and my name endear;- Yet should this verse, my leasure's best TWILIGHT'S Soft dews steal o'er the village'green, With magic tints to harmonize the scene. Stilled is the hum that through the hamlet broke, When round the ruins of their ancient oak That casement, arched with ivy's brownest shade, First to these eyes the light of heaven conveyed. The mouldering gateway strews the grass- shield, The martin's old hereditary nest. As jars the hinge, what sullen echoes call! Oft has its roof with peals of rapture rung ; When round yon ample board, in due degree, We sweetened every meal with social glee. The heart's light laugh pursued the circling jest; And all was sunshine in each little breast. 'Twas here we chased the slipper by its sound; And turned the blindfold hero round and round. 'Twas here, at eve, we formed our fairy-ring ; And Fancy fluttered on her wildest wing. Giants and genii chained each wondering ear; And orphan-sorrows drew the ready tear. Oft with the babes we wandered in the wood, Or viewed the forest-feats of Robin Hood: Oft, fancy-led, at midnight's fearful hour, With startling step we scaled the lonely tower; O'er infant innocence to hang and weep, Murder'd by ruffian hands, when smiling in its sleep. Ye Household Deities! whose guardian eye Marked each pure thought, ere registered on high; Still, still ye walk the consecrated ground, And breathe the soul of Inspiration round. As o'er the dusky furniture I bend, Each chair awakes the feelings of a friend. The storied arras, source of fond delight, With old achievement charms the wildered sight; And still, with Heraldry's rich hues imprest, On the dim window glows the pictured crest; The screen unfolds its many-coloured chart; The clock still points its moral to the heart; That faithful monitor 'twas heaven to hear, When soft it spoke a promised pleasure near: And has its sober hand, its simple chime, Forgot to trace the feathered feet of Time? That massive beam with curious carvings wrought, Whence the caged linnet soothed my pensive thought; Those muskets, cased with venerable rust; Those once-loved forms, still breathing thro' their dust, Still, from the frame in mould gigantic cast, | Starting to life-all whisper of the past! As thro' the garden's desert paths I rove, What fond illusions swarm in every grove! How oft, when purple-evening tinged the west, We watched the emmet to her grainy nest; Welcomed the wild-bee home on weary wing, Laden with sweets, the choicest of the spring! How oft inscribed, with Friendship's votive rhyme, The bark now silvered by the touch of Time; Soared in the swing, half pleased and half afraid, Thro' sister-elms that waved their summershade; Or strewed with crumbs yon root-inwoven seat, To lure the redbreast from his lone retreat! Childhood's lov'd group revisits every scene, The tangled wood-walk and the tufted green! Indulgent MEMORY wakes, and lo! they live! Clothed with far softer hues than light can give. Thou first, best friend that Heaven assigns below, To soothe and sweeten all the cares we know; Whose glad suggestions still each vain alarm, When nature fades and life forgets to charm; Thee would the Muse invoke!-to thee belong The sage's precept, and the poet's song. As when in ocean sinks the orb of day, Up springs, at every step, to claim a tear, Some little friendship formed and cherished here! And not the lightest leaf, but trembling teems With golden visions, and romantic dreams! Down by yon hazel-copse, at evening, blazed The Gipsy's faggot-there we stood and gazed; Gazed on her sun-burnt face with silent awe, Her tatter'd mantle, and her hood of straw; Her moving lips, her caldron brimming o'er; The drowsy brood that on her back she bore, Imps, in the barn with mousing owlet bred, From rifled roost at nightly revel fed; Whose dark eyes flashed thro' locks of blackest shade, When in the breeze the distant watch-dog bayed : And heroes fled the Sybil's muttered call, Whose elfin prowess scaled the orchard-wall. As o'er my palm the silver piece she drew, And traced the line of life with searching view, How throbb'd my fluttering pulse with hopes and fears, To learn the colour of my future years! Ah, then, what honest triumph flushed my breast! This truth once known-To bless is to be blest! We led the bending beggar on his way, 'Twas all he gave, 'twas all he had to give. It calls me hence, beneath their shade, to trace The few fond lines that Time may soon efface. On yon gray stone, that fronts the chanceldoor, Worn smooth by busy feet now seen no more, Each eve we shot the marble thro' the ring, When the heart danced, and life was in its spring; Alas! unconscious of the kindred earth, That faintly echoed to the voice of mirth. The glow-worm loves her emerald light to shed, Where now the sexton rests his hoary head. Oft, as he turned the greensward with his spade, He lectured every youth that round him played; And calmly pointing where his fathers lay, Roused him to rival each, the hero of his day. Hush, ye fond flutterings, hush! while The village-common spotted white with here alone sheep, I search the records of each mouldering The church-yard-yews round which his fathers sleep; stone. Guides of my life! Instructors of my youth! All rouse Reflection's sadly-pleasing train, Who first unveiled the hallowed form of And oft he looks and weeps, and looks again. So, when the mild TUPIA dared explore Truth; Whose every word enlightened and endeared; | Arts yet untaught, and worlds unknown In age beloved, in poverty revered; sleep, When only Sorrow wakes, and wakes to weep, What spells entrance my visionary mind With sighs so sweet, with transports so refined? Ethereal Power! whose smile, at noon of night, Recalls the far-fled spirit of delight; Her pencil dipt in Nature's living hues, Our thoughts are linked by many a hidden chain. Awake but one, and lo, what myriads rise! source Whence the fine nerves direct their mazy course, before, And, with the sons of Science, wooed the gale That, rising, swelled their strange expanse of sail; So, when he breathed his firm yet fond adieu, Borne from his leafy hut, his carved canoe, And all his soul best loved-such tears he shed, While each soft scene of summer-beauty fled: Long o'er the wave a wistful look he cast, Long watched the streaming signal from the mast; Till twilight's dewy tints deceived his eye, And fairy-forests fringed the evening-sky. So Scotia's Queen, as slowly dawned the day, Rose on her couch, and gazed her soul away. Her eyes had blessed the beacon's glimmering height, That faintly tipt the feathery surge with light; But now the morn with orient hues portrayed Each castled cliff and brown monastic shade: All touched the talisman's resistless spring, And lo, what busy tribes were instant on the wing! Thus kindred objects kindred thoughts inspire, As summer-clouds flash forth electric fire. And hence this spot gives back the joys of youth, Warm as the life, and with the mirror's truth. Hence home-felt pleasure prompts the Patriot's sigh; And thro' the frame invisibly convey signed! When reason, justice, vainly urg'd his cause, For this he rous'd her sanguinary laws; Glad to return, tho' Hope could grant no more, And chains and torture hailed him to the shore. And hence the charm historic scenes SO TULLY paused, amid the wrecks of Time, roves His ruin'd Tusculan's romantic groves? We gaze on every feature till it lives! Tremblingly still, she lifts his veil to trace The war-worn courser charges at the sound, And with young vigour wheels the pasture round. Oft has the aged tenant of the vale Leaned on his staff to lengthen out the tale; Oft have his lips the grateful tribute breathed, From sire to son with pious zeal bequeathed. When o'er the blasted heath the day declined, And on the scathed oak warred the winterwind; When not a distant taper's twinkling ray Gleamed o'er the furze to light him on his way; When not a sheep-bell soothed his listening ear, And the big rain-drops told the tempest near; The track that shunned his sad inquiring eye; And doubts and terrors vanished from his Recall the traveller, whose altered form What tho' the iron school of War erase Each milder virtue, and each softer grace; What tho' the fiend's torpedo-touch arrest Each gentler, finer impulse of the breast; Still shall this active principle preside, And wake the tear to Pity's self denied. The intrepid Swiss, who guards a foreign | Tho' all that knew him know his face no more, His faithful dog shall tell his joy to each, With that mute eloquence which passes speech. shore, Condemned to climb his mountain-cliffs no more, If chance he hears the song so sweetly wild Which on those cliffs his infant hours beguil'd, Melts at the long-lost scenes that round him And sinks a martyr to repentant sighs. Say why VESPASIAN lov'd his Sabine farm; Sought the lone limits of a forest-shed? Tomuse with monks unlettered and unknown, Ere grandeur dazzled,and its cares oppressed. Far as Angola's sands, as Zembla's snows; And see, the master but returns to die! The wanton insults of unfeeling mirth, Led by what chart, transports the timid Say, thro' the clouds what compass points Monarchs have gazed, Pile rocks on rocks, bid woods and mountains rise, Eclipse her native shades, her native skies;— 'Tis vain! thro' Ether's pathless wilds she goes, And lights at last where all her cares repose. And unborn ages consecrate thy nest. Want, with her babes, round generous Valour To wring the slow surrender from his tongue, |