Know, if thou grudge not to prolong thy rest, | Entire forgiveness!-But if thou art one
That on the summit whither thou art bound, On fire with thy impatience to become
A geographic labourer pitched his tent, An inmate of these mountains, -if, dis-
With books supplied and instruments of art, turbed
To measure height and distance; lonely task,
Week after week pursued !-To him was
given
Full many a glimpse (but sparingly bestowed
On timid man) of nature's processes
Upon the exalted hills. He made report
That once, while there he plied his studious
work
Within that canvas dwelling, suddenly
The many-coloured map before his eyes
Became invisible: for all around
Had darkness fallen-unthreatened, un-
proclaimed-
As if the golden day itself had been
Extinguished in a moment; total gloom,
In which he sat alone, with unclosed eyes,
Upon the blinded mountain's silent top!
WRITTEN WITH A SLATE-PENCIL UPON
A STONE, THE LARGEST OF A HEAP
LYING NEAR A DESERTED QUARRY,
UPON ONE OF THE ISLANDS AT
RYDAL.
STRANGER! this hillock of mis-shapen
Is not a ruin of the ancient time, [cairn
Nor, as perchance thou rashly deem'st, the
Of some old British chief: 'tis nothing more
Than the rude embryo of a little dome
Or pleasure-house, once destined to be built
Among the birch-trees of this rocky isle.
But, as it chanced, Sir William having
learned
[might wade,
That from the shore a full-grown man
And make himself a freeman of this spot
At any hour he chose, the knight forthwith
Desisted, and the quarry and the mound
Are monuments of his unfinished task.
The block on which these lines are traced,
perhaps,
Was once selected as the corner-stone
Of the intended pile, which would have been
Some quaint odd plaything of elaborate
skill,
So that, I guess, the linnet and the thrush,
And other little builders who dwell here,
Had wondered at the work. But blame
For old Sir William was a gentle knight
Bred in this vale, to which he appertained
With all his ancestry. Then peace to him,
And for the outrage which he had devised |
By beautiful conceptions, thou hast hewn
Out of the quiet rock the elements
Of thy trim mansion destined soon to blaze
In snow-white splendour, think again,
and, taught
By old Sir William and his quarry, leave
Thy fragments to the bramble and the rose;
There let the vernal slow-worm sun himself,
And let the redbreast hop from stone to
stone.
INSCRIPTIONS SUPPOSED TO BE FOUND
IN AND NEAR A HERMITt's cell.
HOPES What are they?-Beads of morning
Strung on slender blades of grass;
Or a spider's web adorning
In a strait and treacherous pass.
What are fears but voices airy?
Whispering harm where harm is not;
And deluding the unwary
Till the fatal bolt is shot!
What is glory?--in the socket
See how dying tapers fare!
What is pride?-a whizzing rocket
'That would emulate a star.
What is friendship?-do not trust her,
Nor the vows which she has made;
Diamonds dart their brightest lustre
From a palsy-shaken head.
What is truth?-a staff rejected;
Duty?-an unwelcome clog;
Joy?-a moon by fits reflected
In a swamp or watery bog;
Bright, as if through ether steering,
To the traveller's eye it shone :
He hath hailed it re-appearing-
And as quickly it is gone;
Gone, as if for ever hidden;
Or mis-shapen to the sight,
And by sullen weeds forbidden
To resume its native light.
What is youth?-a dancing billow,
(Winds behind, and rocks before!)
Age?-a drooping, tottering willow
On a flat and lazy shore.
What is peace?-when pain is over,
And love ceases to rebel,
Let the last faint sigh discover
That precedes the passing knell!
INSCRIBED UPON A ROCK.
PAUSE, traveller! whosoe'er thou be
Whom chance may lead to this retreat
Where silence yields reluctantly
Even to the fleecy straggler's bleat;
Give voice to what my hand shall trace,
And fear not lest an idle sound
Of words unsuited to the place
Disturb its solitude profound.
I saw this rock, while vernal air
Blew softly o'er the russet heath,
Uphold a monument as fair
As church or abbey furnisheth.
Unsullied did it meet the day,
Like marble white, like ether pure;
As if beneath some hero lay,
Honoured with costliest sepulture.
My fancy kindled as I gazed;
And, ever as the sun shone forth,
The flattered structure glistened, blazed,
And seemed the proudest thing on earth.
But frost had reared the gorgeous pile
Unsound as those which fortune builds;
'To undermine with secret guile,
Sapped by the very beam that gilds.
And, while I gazed, with sudden shock
Fell the whole fabric to the ground;
And naked left this dripping rock,
With shapeless ruin spread around!
HAST thou seen, with flash incessant, Bubbles gliding under ice,
Bodied forth and evanescent,
No one knows by what device?
What avails the kindly shelter
Yielded by this craggy rent,
If my spirit toss and welter
On the waves of discontent?
Parching summer hath no warrant
To consume this crystal well;
Rains that make each rill a torrent,
Neither sully it nor swell.
Thus, dishonouring not her station,
Would my life present to thee,
Gracious God, the pure oblation,
Of divine tranquillity!
NOT seldom, clad in radiant vest,
Deceitfully goes forth the morn;
Not seldom evening in the west
Sinks smilingly forsworn.
The smoothest seas will sometimes prove,
To the confiding bark, untrue;
And, if she trust the stars above,
They can be treacherous too.
The umbrageous oak, in pomp outspread,
Full oft, when storms the welkin rend,
Draws lightning down upon the head
It promised to defend.
But thou art true, incarnate Lord,
Who didst vouchsafe for man to die;
Thy smile is sure, thy plighted word
No change can falsify!
I bent before thy gracious throne,
And asked for peace on suppliant knce;
And peace was given,-nor peace alone,
But faith sublimed to ecstasy !
Such are thoughts!-A wind-swept meadow Here stood his threshold; here was spread
Mimicking a troubled sea,
Such is life; and death a shadow From the rock eternity!
NEAR THE SPRING OF THE HERMITAGE.
TROUBLED long with warring notions,
Long impatient of thy rod,
I resign my soul's emotions
Unto thee, mysterious God!
That sheltered him, a self-secluded man,
After long exercise in social cares
And offices humane, intent to adore
The Deity, with undistracted mind,
And meditate on everlasting things,
In utter solitude.-But he had left
A fellow-labourer, whom the good man
loved
[upraised
As his own soul. And, when with eye
To heaven he knelt before the crucifix, While o'er the lake the cataract of Lodore Pealed to his orisons, and when he paced Along the beach of this small isle and thought
Of his companion, he would pray that both Far from St. Cuthbert his beloved friend, (Now that their earthly duties were ful-Those holy men both died in the same filled)
Sonnets Dedicated to Liberty.
COMPOSED BY THE SEA-SIDE, NEAR CALAIS, AUGUST, 1802.
FAIR star of evening, splendour of the .west, [brink Star of my country!-on the horizon's Thou hangest, stooping, as might seem, to sink [rest, On England's bosom: yet well pleased to Meanwhile, and be to her a glorious crest Conspicuous to the nations. Thou, I think, [shouldst wink, Shouldst be my country's emblem; and Bright star! with laughter on her banners, drest [spot In thy fresh beauty. There! that dusky 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.
Is it a reed that's shaken by the wind, Or what is it that ye go forth to see? Lords, lawyers, statesmen, squires of low degree, [and blind, Men known, and men unknown, sick, lame, Post forward all, like creatures of one kind, [the knee With first-fruit offerings crowd to bend In France, before the new-born majesty. "Tis even thus. Ye men of prostrate mind! A seemly reverence may be paid to power; But that's a loyal virtue, never sown In haste, nor springing with a transient shower: [flown, When truth, when sense, when liberty were
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COMPOSED NEAR CALAIS, ON THE ROAD LEADING TO ARDRES, AUGUST 7, 1802.
JONES! while from Calais southward you and I
[way Urged our accordant steps, this public Streamed with the pomp of a too-credulous day,* [liberty: When faith was pledged to new-born A homeless sound of joy was in the sky; The antiquated earth, as one might say, Beat like the heart of man: songs, garlands, play,
Banners, and happy faces, far and nigh!
And now, sole register that these things were,
Two solitary greetings have I heard,
"Good morrow, citizen!" a hollow word,
As if a dead man spake it! Yet despair
Touches me not, though pensive as a bird
Whose vernal coverts winter hath laid bare.
Books, leisure, perfect freedom, and the ] If fall they must. Now, whither doth it talk [walk tend?
Man holds with week-day man in the hourly | And what to him and his shall be the end? Of the mind's business: these are the That thought is one which neither can appal degrees [the stalk Nor cheer him : for the illustrious Swede By which true sway doth mount; this is hath done [above True power doth grow on; and her rights The thing which ought to be: he stands are these. All consequences; work he hath begun Of fortitude, and piety, and love, Which all his glorious ancestors approve : The heroes bless him, him their rightful son.
CALAIS, AUGUST 15, 1802.
FESTIVALS have I seen that were not names:
This is young Bonaparte's natal day,
And his is henceforth an established sway,
Consul for life. With worship France
proclaims
[games.
Her approbation, and with pomps and
Heaven grant that other cities may be gay!
Calais is not: and I have bent my way
To the sea-coast, noting that each man
frames
His business as he likes. Far other show
My youth here witnessed, in a prouder
time;
The senselessness of joy was then sublime!
Happy is he, who, caring not for pope,
Consul, or king, can sound himself to know
The destiny of man, and live in hope.
TO TOUSSAINT L'OUVERture. TOUSSAINT, the most unhappy man of men! Whether the whistling rustic tend his plough Within thy hearing, or thy head be now Pillowed in some deep dungeon's earless den;
O miserable chieftain ! where and when
Wilt thou find patience? Yet die not! do
thou
Wear rather in thy bonds a cheerful brow :
Though fallen thyself, never to rise again,
Live, and take comfort. Thou hast left
behind
[and skies:
Powers that will work for thee, air, earth,
There's not a breathing of the common
wind
That will forget thee; thou hast great allies; ON THE EXTINCTION OF THE VENETIAN Thy friends are exultations, agonies,
ONCE did she hold the gorgeous East in
fee;
And was the safeguard of the West: the
Of Venice did not fall below her birth,
Venice, the eldest child of liberty.
She was a maiden city, bright and free;
No guile seduced, no force could violate;
And when she took unto herself a mate,
She must espouse the everlasting sea!
And what if she had seen those glories fade,
Those titles vanish, and that strength decay;
Yet shall some tribute of regret be paid
When her long life hath reached its final
day:
[the shade
Men are we, and must grieve when even
Of that which once was great, is passed
THE KING OF SWEDEN.
THE Voice of song from distant lands shall
call
[youth
To that great king; shall hail the crowned
Who, taking counsel of unbending truth,
By one example hath set forth to all
How they with dignity may stand; or fall;
And love, and man's unconquerable mind.
Among the capricious acts of tyranny that disgraced these times, was the chasing of all negroes from France by decree of the government we had a fellow-passenger who was one of the expelled.
DRIVEN from the soil of France, a female
From Calais with us, brilliant in array,
A negro woman like a lady gay,
Yet downcast as a woman fearing blame;
Meek, destitute, as seemed, of hope or aim
She sate, from notice turning not away,
But on all proffered intercourse did lay
A weight of languid speech,-
-or at the
Was silent, motionless in eyes and face.
Meanwhile those eyes retained their tropic
fire,
Which, burning independent of the mind,
Joined with the lustre of her rich attire
To mock the outcast-O ye heavens be
kind!
And feel, thou earth, for this afflicted race!
COMPOSED IN THE VALLEY, NEAR DOVER, | Then cleave, oh, cleave to that which still
HERE, on our native soil we breathe once [that sound The cock that crows, the smoke that curls, Of bells,―those boys who in yon meadowground [the roar In white-sleeved shirts are playing,-and Of the waves breaking on the chalky shore, All, all are English. Oft have I looked round [found With joy in Kent's green vales; but never Myself so satisfied in heart before. Europe is yet in bonds; but let that pass, Thought for another moment. Thou art free,
My country! and 'tis joy enough and pride For one hour's perfect bliss, to tread the
Of England once again, and hear and see, With such a dear companion at my side.
INLAND, within a hollow vale, I stood;
And saw, while sea was calm and air was
clear,
[how near !
The coast of France, the coast of France
Drawn almost into frightful neighbourhood.
I shrunk, for verily the barrier flood
Was like a lake, or river bright and fair,
A span of waters; yet what power is there!
What mightiness for evil and for good!
Even so doth God protect us if we be
Virtuous and wise. Winds blow, and
waters roll,
Strength to the brave, and power, and deity,
Yet in themselves are nothing! One decree
Spake laws to them, and said that by the soul
Only the nations shall be great and free!
[it be For, high-souled maid, what sorrow would That mountain floods should thunder as before,
And ocean bellow from his rocky shore, And neither awful voice be heard by thee!
WRITTEN IN LONDON, SEPTEMBER, 1802.
O FRIEND! I know not which way I must
For comfort, being, as I am, opprest,
look
For show; mean handy-work of craftsman,
To think that now our life is only drest
cook,
[brook
In the open sunshine, or we are unblest:
Or groom 1-We must run glittering like a
The wealthiest man among us is the best ;
Delights us. Rapine, avarice, expense,
No grandeur now in nature or in book
This is idolatry; and these we adore ;
Plain living and high thinking are no more;
The homely beauty of the good old cause
Is gone; our peace, our fearful innocence,
And pure religion breathing household laws.
Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free,
THOUGHT OF A BRITON ON THE SUBJUGA- So didst thou travel on life's common way,
TION OF SWITZERLAND.
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, and with holy glee
Thou fought'st against him ; but hast vainly
striven.
[driven,
Thou from thy Alpine holds at length art
Where not a torrent murmurs heard by thee.
Of one deep bliss thine ear hath been bereft ;
In cheerful godliness; and yet thy heart The lowliest duties on herself did lay.
GREAT men have been among us; hands that penned [none : And tongues that uttered wisdom, better The later Sidney, Marvel, Harrington, Young Vane, and others who called Milton friend.
These moralists could act and comprehend : They knew how genuine glory was put on; Taught us how rightfully a nation shone
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