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"Oh! it was a time forlorn

Again he wanders forth at will, When the fatherless was born

And tends a fiock from hill to hill : Give her wings that she may fly,

His garb is humble ; ne'er was seen Or she sees her infant die !

Such garb with such a noble mien ; Swords that are with slaughter wild Among the shepherd grooms no mate Hunt the mother and the child.

Hath he, a child of strength and state ! Who wili take them from the light? Yet lacks not friends for solemn glee, Yonder is a man in sight

And a cheerful company, Yonder is a house--but where?

That learned of him submissive ways ; No, they must not enter there.

And comforted his private days.
To the caves, and to the brooks,

To his side the fallow-deer
To the clouds of heaven she looks ; Came, and rested without fear ;
She is speechless, but her eyes

The eagle, lord of land and sea,
Pray in ghostly agonies.

Stooped down to pay him fealty ; Blissful Mary, mother mild,

And both the undying fish that swim Maid and mother undefiled,

Through Bowscale-Tarn* did wait on him, Save a mother and her child !

The pair were servants of his eye

In their immortality; " Now who is he that bounds with joy They moved about in open sight, On Carrock's side, a shepherd boy? To and fro, for his delight. No thoughts hath he but thoughts that pass He knew the rocks which angels haunt Light as the wind along the grass.

On the mountains visitant ;
Can this be he who hither came

He hath kenned them taking wing;
In secret, like a smothered flame? And the caves where faeries sing
O'er whom such thankful tears were shed He hath entered ; and been told
For shelter, and a poor man's bread! By voices how men lived of old.
God loves the child; and God hath willed Among the heavens his eye can see
That those dear words should be fulfilled, Face of thing that is to be ;
The lady's words, when forced away, And, if men report him right,
The last she to her babe did say,

He could whisper words of might.
My own, my own, thy fellow-guest Now another day is come,
I may not be ; but rest thee, rest, Fitter hope, and nobler doom:
For lowly shepherd's life is best !

He hath thrown aside his crook,

And hath buried deep his book ;
“Alas ! when evil men are strong Armour rusting in his halls
No life is good, no pleasure long.

On the blood of Clifford calls ; 1-
The boy must part from Mosedale's groves, Quell the Scot,' exclaims the lance-
And leave Blencathara's rugged coves, Bear me to the heart of France,
And quit the flowers that summer brings Is the longing of the shield-
To Glenderamakin's lofty springs : Tell thy name, thou trembling field ;
Must vanish, and his careless cheer Field of death, where'er thou be,
Be turned to heaviness and fear.

Groan thou with our victory!
Give Sir Lancelot Threlkeld praise! Happy day, and mighty hour,
Hear it, good man, old in days !

When our shepherd, in his power,
Thou tree of covert and of rest
For this young bird that is distrest ;
Among thy branches safe he lay,

. It is imagined by the people of the country And he was free to sport and play,

that there are two immortal fish, inhabitants of When falcons were abroad for prey.

this Tarn, which lies in the mountams not far from Threlkeld.-Blencathara, mentioned before

is the old and proper name of the mountain "A recreant harp, that sings of fear vulgarly called Saddle-back. And heaviness in Clifford's ear!

† The martial character of the Cliffords is I said, when evil men are strong,

well known to the readers of English history: No life is good, no pleasure long,

but it may not be improper here to say, by way A weak and cowardly untruth!

of comment on these lines, and what follows, Our Clifford was a happy youth,

that, besides several others who perished in the

same manner, the four immediate progenitors of And thankful through a weary time, the person in whose hearing this is supposed to That brought him up to manhood's prime. I be spoken, all died in the field.

Mailed and horsed, with lance and sword,

To his ancestors restored,
Like a re-appearing star,

ETHEREAL minstrel ! pilgrim of the sky! Like a glory from afar,

Dost thou despise the earth where card First shall head the flock of war !".



Or, while the wings aspire, are heart and Alas ! the fervent harper did not know Both with thy nest upon the dewy ground? That for a tranquil soul the lay was framed, Thy nest which thou canst drop into at Who, long compelled in humble walks to go, will, Was softened into feeling, soothed, and Those quivering wings composed, that tamed

music still !

lie ;

Love bad he found in huts where poor men To the last point of vision, and beyond,

[rills, Mount, daring warbler! that love-prompted

strain, His daily teachers had been woods and The silence that is in the starry sky,

(Twixt thee and thine a never-failing bond) The sleep that is among the lonely hills.

Thrills not the less the bosom of the plain :

Yet mightst thou seem, proud privilege ! to In him the savage virtue of the race, All independent of the leafy spring. (sing Revenge, and all ferocious thoughts were dead :

Leave to the nightingale her shady wood; Nor did he change ; but kept in lofty place A privacy of glorious light is thine ; (flood The wisdom which adversity had bred.

Whence thou dost pour upon the world a

Of harmony, with rapture more divine ; Glad were the vales, and every cottage Type of the wise who soar, but never roam; hearth;

[and more :

True to the kindred points of heaven and

The shepherd lord was honoured more
And, ages after he was laid in earth,
“The good Lord Clifford " was the name
he bore.

It is no spirit who from heaven hath flown,
And is descending on his embassy ;

Nor traveller gone from earth the heavens

to espy! Yes, it was the mountain echo,

'Tis Hesperus—there he stands with glit

tering crown, Solitary, clear, profound,

First admonition that the sun is down ! Answering to the shouting cuckoo, Giving to her sound for sound!

For yet it is broad daylight! clouds pass

by Unsolicited reply

A few are near him still—and now the sky,

He hath it to himself—'tis all his own.
To a babbling wanderer sent;
Like her ordinary cry,

O most ambitious star! thy presence Like-but oh, how different !


A startling recollection to my mind Hears not also mortal life?

Of the distinguished sew among mankind, Hear not we, unthinking creatures !

Who dare to step beyond their natural Slaves of folly, love, and strife, Voices of two different natures ?

As thou seem'st now to do: nor was a

thought Have not we too ;-yes, we have

Denied-that even I might one day trace Answers, and we know not whence ;

Some ground not mine ; and, strong her Echoes from beyond the grave,

strength above, Recognised intelligence?

My soul, an apparition in the place,

Tread there, with steps that no one shall Such rebounds our inward ear

reprove !
Often catches from afar ;-
Giddy mortals ! hold them dear;
For of God, -of God they are.


Or some secreted island, Heaven knows FRENCH REVOLUTION,


But in the very world, which is the world ITS COMMENCEMENT." REPRINTED

Of all of us, the place where in the end

We find our happiness, or not at all !
OH! pleasant exercise of hope and joy!
For mighty were the auxiliars, which then

Upon our side, we who were strong in love!
Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive, WITHis the mind strong fancies work,
But to be young was very heaven !-Ch ! A deep delight the bosom thrills,

Oft as I pass alɔng the fork
In which the meagre, stale, forbidding ways of these fraterual hills :
Of custom, law, and statute, took at once Where, save the rugged road, we find
The attraction of a country in romance ! No appanage of human kind;
When reason seemed the most to assert her Nor hint of man ; if stone or rock

Seem not his handy-work to mock
When most intent on making of lierself By somethirg cognizably shaped ;
A prime enchantress—to assist the work, Mockery—or model roughly hewn,
Which then was going forward in her name! And left as if by earthquake strewn,
Not favoured spots alone, but the whole Or from the flood escaped :-

(sets Altars for Druid service fit; The beauty wore of promise-that which (But where no fire was ever lit, (To take an image which was felt no doubt Unless the glow-worm to the skies Among the bowers of paradise itself) Thence offer nightly .acrifice ; The budding rose above the rose full blown. Wrinkled Egyptian monument ; What temper at the prospect did not wake Green moss-grown tower ; or hoary tent ; To happiness unthought of? The inert Tents of a camp that never shall be raised ; Were roused, and lively natures rapt away! On which four thousand years have gazed i They who had fed their childhood upon dreams,

Ye plough-shares sparkling on the slopes ! The playfellows of fancy, who had made Ye snow-white lambs that trip All powers of swiftness, subtilty, and Imprisoned 'mid the formal props strength

(stirred Of restless ownership! Their ministers,—who in lordly wise had Ye trees, that may to-morrow fall Among the grandest objects of the sense,

To feed the insatiate prodigal ! And dealt with whatsoever they found there Lawns, houses, chattels, groves, and fields, As if they had within some lurking right

All that the fertile valley shields ; To wield it ;-they, too, who of gentle mood Wages of folly-baits of crime, – Had watched all gentle motions, and to Of life's uneasy game the stake, these

Playthings that keep the eyes awake Had fitted their own thoughts, schemers of drowsy, dotard time :more mild,

O care! O guilt !- vales and plains, And in the region of their peaceful selves :- Here, 'mid his own unvexed domains, Now was it that both found, the meek and A genius dwells, that can subdue lofty

At once all memory of you, Did both find helpers to their heart's desire, Most potent when 'mists veil the sky, And stuff at hand, plastic as they could Mists that distort and magnify; breeze, wish,

While the coarse rushes, to the sweeping Were called upon to exercise their skill, Sigh forth their ancient melodies ! Not in Utopia,-subterraneous fields,

List to those shriller notes ! that march

Perchance was on the blast, *This, and the extract (“ The Influence of Natu. When, through this height's inverted archa class, are from the unpublished poem of which Rome's earliest legion passed! some account is given in the preface to "The Ex-They saw, adventurously impelled, cursion."

And older eyes than theirs beheld,

This block—and yon, whose church-like | Time was when field and watery cove frame

With modulated echoes rang, Gives to the savage pass its name.

While choirs of fervent angels sang, Aspiring road ! that lov'st to hide

Their vespers in the grove ; (height, Thy daring in a vapoury bourn,

Or, ranged like stars along some sovereign Not seldom may the hour return

Warbled, for heaven above and earth below. When thou shalt be my guidę ;

Strains suitable to both.-Such holy rite, And I (as often we find cause,

Methinks, if audibly repeated now When life is at a weary pause,

From hill or valley, could not move And we have panted up the hill

Sublimer transport, purer love, Of duty with reluctant will)

Than doth this silent spectacle, the gleamBe thankful, even though tired and faint, The shadow—and the peace supreme ! For the rich bounties of constraint ; Whence oft invigorating transports flow

No sound is uttered, -but a deep That choice lacked courage to bestow.

And solemn harmony pervades

The hollow vale from steep to steep. My soul was grateful for delight

And penetrates the glades. That wore a threatening brow ;

Far-distant images draw nigh, A veil is listed --can she slight

Called forth by wondrous potency The scene that opens now !

Of beamy radiance, that imbues Though habitation rone appear,

Whate'er it strikes, with gem-like hues The greenness tells, man must be there ; In vision exquisitely clear, The shelter-that the perspective

Herds range along the mountain side ; Is of the clime in which we live ;

And glistening antlers are descried ; Where toil pursues his daily round ;

And gilded flocks appear. Where pity sheds sweet tears, and love, Thine is the tranquil hour, purpureal eve! In woodbine bower or birchen grove,

But long as god-like wish, or hope divine, Inflicts his tender wound.

Informs my spirit, ne'er can I believe Who comes not hither ne'er shall know That this magnificence is wholly thine ! How beautiful the world below;

From worlds not quickened by tne sun Nor can he guess how lightly leaps A portion of the gift is won ; The brook adown the rocky steeps.

An intermingling of heaven's pomp is spread Farewell, thou desolate domain !

On ground which British shepherds tread!
Hope, pointing to the cultured plain,
Carols like a shepherd-boy;

And, if there be whom broken ties
And who is she ?-Can that be joy ! Afflict, or injuries assail,
Who, with a sunbeam for her guide,

Yon hazy ridges to their eyes
Smoothly skims the meadows wide ; Present a glorious scale,
While faith, from yonder opening clou

Climbing suffused with sunny air, To hill and vale proclaims aloud,

To stop-no record hath told where ! “Whate'er the weak may dread, the And tempting fancy to ascend, wicked dare,

And with immortal spirits blend !
Thy lot, O man, is good, thy portion fair!" Wings at my shoulder seem to play ;

But, rooted here, I stand and gaze (raise
On those bright steps that heavenward

Their practicable way.

Come forth, ye drooping old men, look COMPOSED UPON AN EVENING OF EX

abroad, TRAORDINARY SPLENDOUR AND BEAUTY. And see to what fair countries yeare bourd !

And if some traveller, weary of his road, Had this effulgence disappeared

Hath slept since noon-tide on the grassy With flying haste, I might have sent, Ye genji! to his covert speed ; [ground, Among the speechless clouds, a look

And wake him with such gentle heed Of blank astonishment ;

As may attune his soul to meet the dower But 'tis endued with power to stay, Bestowed on this transcendent hour ! And sanctify one closing day, That frail mortality may see

Such hues from their celestial urn What is ?- ah no, but what can be ! Were wont to stream before my eye,




Where'er it wandered in the morn

Among the woods and copses, nor disturb Of blissful infancy.

The wild green landscape. Once again I This glimpse of glory, why renewed ?

[lines Nay, rather speak with gratitude ;

These hedgerows, hardly hedgerows, little For, if a vestige of those gleams

Of sportive wood run wild ; these pastoral Survived, 'twas only in my dreams.

farms, Dread Power ! whom peace and calmness Green to the very door; and wreaths of smoke

Sent up in silence, from among the trees ! No less than nature's threatening voice, With some uncertain notice, as might seem, If aught unworthy ve my choice,

Of vagrant dwellers in the houseless woods, From THEE if I would swerve,

Or of some hermit's cave, where by his fire Oh, let thy grace remind me of the light The hermit sits alone. Full early lost, and fruitlessly deplored ;

These beauteous forms, Which, at this moment, on my waking sight Through a long absence, have not been 10 Appears to shine, by miracle restored ! My soul, though yet a ined to earth, As is a landscape to a blind man's eye : Rejoices in a second birth;

But oft, in lonely rooms, and 'mid the din' "Tis past, the visionary splendour fades; or towns and cities, I have owed to them, And night approaches with her shades. In hours of weariness, sensations sweet,

Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart; Note.-The multiplication of mountain ridges And passing even into my purer mind, described at the commencement of the third With tranquil restoration feelings, too, stanza of this ode, as a kind of Jacob's ladder, leading to Heaven, is produced either by watery Of unremembered pleasure: such, perhaps, vapours, or sunny haze :-in the present in As have no slight or trivial influence stance, by the latter cause. Allusions to the On that best portion of a good man's lise, ode entitled “Intimations of Immortality," per- His little, nameless, unremembered acts vade the last stanza of the foregoing poem. Of kindness and of love. Nor less, I trust,

To them I may have owed another gift,

Of aspect more sublime; that blessed mood, LINES,

In which the burthen of the mystery,

In which the heavy and the weary weight COMPOSED A FEW MILES ABOVE TINTERN Of all this unintelligible world,


Is lightened :—that serene and blessed OF THE WYE DURING A TOUR.

In which the affections gently lead us on,JULY 13, 1798.

Until, the breath of this corporeal frame, Five years have past ; five summers, with Alinost suspended, we are laid asleep

And even the motion of our human blood the length Of five long winters ! and again I hear

In body, and become a living soul : These waters, rolling from their mountain- of harmony, and the deep power of joy,

While with an eye made quiet by the power springs With a sweet inland murmur.*_Once again

We see into the life of things.

If this Do I behold these steep and lofty cliffs, That on a wild secluded scene impress

Be but a vain belief, yet, oh ! how oftThoughts of more deep seclusion ; and Of joyless daylight ; when the fretful stir

In darkness, and amid the many shapes The landscape with the quiet of the sky.

Unprofitable, and the fever of the world, The day is come when I again repose

Have hung upon the beatings of my heart, Here, under this dark sycamore, and view How oft

, in spirit, have I turned to thee, These plots of cottage-ground,

O sylvan Wye! Thou wanderer througl. these

the woods, orchard-tufts, Which at this season, with their unripe How often has my spirit turned to thee !

fruits, Are clad in one green hue, aná lose them

And now, with gleams of half-extinguished

thought, selves

With many recognitions dim and faint,

And somewhat of a sad perplexity, * The river is not affected by the tides a few The picture of the mind revives again ; miles above Tintern.

While here I stand, not only with the sense


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