In hearts no longer young;

Still may a veteran Few have pride

In thoughts whose sternness makes them sweet;
In fixed resolves by Reason justified;
That to their object cleave like sleet
Whitening a pine-tree's northern side,
When fields are naked far and wide,

And withered leaves, from earth's cold breast
Up-caught in whirlwinds, nowhere can find rest.

VI.

But, if such homage thou disdain

As doth with mellowing years agree,
One rarely absent from thy train
More humble favors may obtain
For thy contented Votary.

She, who incites the frolic lambs
In presence of their heedless dams,
And to the solitary fawn

Vouchsafes her lessons, bounteous Nymph
That wakes the breeze, the sparkling lymph
Doth hurry to the lawn;

She, who inspires that strain of joyance holy

Which the sweet Bird, misnamed the melancholy,

Pours forth in shady groves, shall plead for me; And vernal mornings opening bright

With views of undefined delight,

And cheerful songs, and suns that shine

On busy days, with thankful nights, be mine.

VII.

But thou, O Goddess! in thy favorite Isle
(Freedom's impregnable redoubt,

The wide earth's storehouse fenced about
With breakers roaring to the gales
That stretch a thousand thousand sails)
Quicken the slothful, and exalt the vile!
Thy impulse is the life of Fame;
Glad Hope would almost cease to be
If torn from thy society;

And Love, when worthiest of his name,
Is proud to walk the earth with thee!

XXXV.

то

ON HER FIRST ASCENT TO THE SUMMIT OF HELVELLYN.

INMATE of a mountain dwelling,

Thou hast clomb aloft, and gazed
From the watch-towers of Helvellyn;

Awed, delighted, and amazed!

Potent was the spell that bound thee,

Not unwilling to obey;

For blue Ether's arms, flung round thee,
Stilled the pantings of dismay.

Lo the dwindled woods and meadows!

What a vast abyss is there!

Lo the clouds, the solemn shadows,

And the glistenings,

heavenly fair!

And a record of commotion

Which a thousand ridges yield;
Ridge, and gulf, and distant ocean
Gleaming like a silver shield!

Maiden! now take flight; -inherit
Alps or Andes,—they are thine!
With the morning's roseate Spirit,
Sweep their length of snowy line;

Or

survey their bright dominions In the gorgeous colors drest

Flung from off the purple pinions Evening spreads throughout the west!

Thine are all the coral fountains
Warbling in each sparry vault

Of the untrodden lunar mountains ;
Listen to their songs!-or halt,

To Niphates' top invited,
Whither spiteful Satan steered;
Or descend where the ark alighted,
When the green earth reappeared;

For the power of hills is on thee,
As was witnessed through thine eye
Then, when old Helvellyn won thee
To confess their majesty!

1816.

XXXVI.

TO A YOUNG LADY,

WHO HAD BEEN REPROACHED FOR TAKING LONG WALKS IN THE COUNTRY.

DEAR Child of Nature, let them rail!
There is a nest in a green dale,

A harbor and a hold;

Where thou, a Wife and Friend, shalt see
Thy own heart-stirring days, and be
A light to young and old.

There, healthy as a shepherd-boy,

And treading among flowers of joy

Which at no season fade,

Thou, while thy babes around thee cling,
Shalt show us how divine a thing

A Woman may be made.

Thy thoughts and feelings shall not die,
Nor leave thee, when gray hairs are nigh,
A melancholy slave;

But an old age serene and bright,
And lovely as a Lapland night,

Shall lead thee to thy grave.

1808.

XXXVII.

WATER-FOWL.

'Let me be allowed the aid of verse to describe the evolutions which these visitants sometimes perform, on a fine day towards the close of winter." ·Extract from the Author's

Book on the Lakes.

MARK how the feathered tenants of the flood,

With grace

of motion that might scarcely seem

Inferior to angelic, prolong

Their curious pastime! shaping in mid-air
(And sometimes with ambitious wing that soars
High as the level of the mountain-tops)
A circuit ampler than the lake beneath,
Their own domain; but ever, while intent
On tracing and retracing that large round,
Their jubilant activity evolves

Hundreds of curves and circlets, to and fro,
Upward and downward, progress intricate
Yet unperplexed, as if one spirit swayed
Their indefatigable flight. 'T is done,
Ten times, or more, I fancied it had ceased;
But lo the vanished company again