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Chequering the ground—from rock, plant, tree, or To Scotland's heaths; or those that crossed the sea tower.
And drew their sounding bows at Azincour,
Perhaps at earlier Crecy, or Poictiers.
Of form and aspect too magnificent
Joined in one solemn and capacious grove;
Of intertwisted fibres serpentine
Up-coiling, and inveterately convolved; But they are silent ;-still they roll along Nor uninformed with Phantasy, and looks Immeasurably distant; and the vault,
That threaten the profane ;-a pillared shade,
By sheddings from the pining umbrage tinged
Of boughs, as if for festal purpose, decked
With unrejoicing berries--ghostly Shapes Is left to muse upon the solemn scene.
May meet at noontide; Fear and trembling Hope,
And Time the Shadow ;-there to celebrate,
United worship; or in mute repose
To lie, and listen to the mountain flood
Murmuring from Glaramara's inmost caves.
It seems a day Escaped from boisterous winds that rage without, (I speak of one from many singled out) Has entered, by the sturdy oaks unfelt,
One of those heavenly days that cannot die ; But to its gentle touch how sensitive
When, in the eagerness of boyish hope, Is the light ash! that, pendent from the brow
I left our cottage-threshold, sallying forth Of yon dim cave, in seeming silence makes
With a huge wallet o'er my shoulders slung, A soft eye-music of slow-waving boughs,
A nutting-crook in hand; and turned my steps Powerful almost as vocal harmony
Tow'rd some far-distant wood, a Figure quaint,
Which for that service had been husbanded,
More raggèd than need was! O'er pathless rocks,
Through beds of matted fern, and tangled thickets,
Drooped with its withered leaves, ungracious sign
A virgin scene!-A little while I stood,
As if a voice were in them, the sick sight Breathing with such suppression of the heart And giddy prospect of the raving stream, As joy delights in ; and, with wise restraint The unfettered clouds and region of the heavens, Voluptuous, fearless of a rival, eyed
Tumult and peace, the darkness and the lightThe banquet ;--or beneath the trees I sate Were all like workings of one mind, the features Among the flowers, and with the flowers I played; of the same face, blossoms upon one tree, A temper known to those, who, after long Characters of the great Apocalypse, And weary expectation, have been blest
The types and symbols of Eternity, With sudden happiness beyond all hope.
Of first, and last, and midst, and without end. Perhaps it was a bower beneath whose leaves
1799. The violets of five seasons re-appear And fade, unseen by any human eye ; Where fairy water-breaks do murmur on For ever ; and I saw the sparkling foam,
She was a Phantom of delight And—with my cheek on one of those green stones
When first she gleamed upon my sight; That, fleeced with moss, under the shady trees,
A lovely Apparition, sent Lay round me, scattered like a flock of sheep
To be a moment's ornament ; I heard the murmur and the murmuring sound,
Her eyes as stars of Twilight fair ; In that sweet mood when pleasure loves to pay
Like Twilight's, too, her dusky hair ; Tribute to ease ; and, of its joy secure,
But all things else about her drawn The heart luxuriates with indifferent things,
From May-time and the cheerful Dawn; Wasting its kindliness on stocks and stones,
A dancing Shape, an Image gay, And on the vacant air. Then up I rose,
To haunt, to startle, and way-lay. And dragged to earth both branch and bough, with
I saw her upon nearer view, crash
A Spirit, yet a Woman too !
Her household motions light and free,
And steps of virgin-liberty ;
A countenance in which did meet
Sweet records, promises as sweet ;
A Creature not too bright or good
For human nature's daily food ;
For transient sorrows, simple wiles, I felt a sense of pain when I beheld
Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles. The silent trees, and saw the intruding sky. Then, dearest Maiden, move along these shades
And now I see with eye serene In gentleness of heart; with gentle hand
The very pulse of the machine ;
A Being breathing thoughtful breath,
A perfect Woman, nobly planned,
To warn, to comfort, and command ;
And yet a Spirit still, and bright
With something of angelic light.
O NIGHTINGALE ! thou surely art
A creature of a 'fiery heart':Winds thwarting winds bewildered and forlorn, These notes of thine-they pierce and pierce; The torrents shooting from the clear blue sky, Tumultuous harmony and fierce ! The rocks that muttered close upon our ears, Thou sing'st as if the God of wine Black drizzling crags that spake by the wayside Had helped thee to a Valentine;
They flash upon that inward eye
As the Moon brightens round her the clouds of the
three years :
That errand-bound 'Prentice was passing in haste-
fret; At the corner of Wood Street, when daylight And the half-breathless Lamplighter-he's in the appears,
net ! Hangs a Thrush that sings loud, it has sung for
The Porter sits down on the weight which he bore; Poor Susan has passed by the spot, and has heard
The Lass with her barrow wheels hither her store ;In the silence of morning the song of the Bird.
If a thief could be here he might pilfer at ease; 'Tisa note of enchantment; what ails her? She sees She sees the Musician, 'tis all that she sees ! A mountain ascending, a vision of trees ; Bright volumes of vapour through Lothbury glide, He stands, backed by the wall ;—he abates not his And a river flows on through the vale of Cheapside.
His hat gives him vigour, with boons dropping in, Green pastures she views in the midst of the dale, From the old and the young, from the poorest; Down which she so often has tripped with her pail ;
and there! And a single small cottage, a nest like a dove's,
l'he one-pennied Boy has his penny to spare. The one only dwelling on earth that she loves.
O blest are the hearers, and proud be the hand She looks, and her heart is in heaven : but they fade, of the pleasure it spreads through so thankful a The mist and the river, the hill and the shade :
band; The stream will not flow, and the hill will not rise, I am glad for him, blind as he is!—all the while And the colours have all passed away from hereyes! If they speak 'tis to praise, and they praise with a
That tall Man, a giant in bulk and in height,
The music stirs in him like wind through a tree.
hour ! name.
That Mother, whose spirit in fetters is bound,
While she dandles the Babe in her arms to the sound. His station is there; and he works on the crowd, He sways them with harmony merry and loud; He fills with his power all their hearts to the brim_ Now, coaches and chariots ! roar on like a stream;
Here are twenty souls happy as souls in a dream: Was aught ever heard like his fiddle and him?
They are deaf to your murmurs- they care not for
you, What an eager assembly! what an empire is this !
Nor what ye are flying, nor what ye pursue ! The weary have life, and the hungry have bliss ; The mourner is cheered, and the anxious have rest; And the guilt-burthened soul is no longer opprest,
Does, then, a deep and earnest thought the blissful
Of him who gazes, or has gazed ? a grave and steady STAR-GAZERS.
joy, What crowd is this? what have we here! we must That doth reject all show of pride, admits outnot pass it by;
ward sign, A Telescope upon its frame, and pointed to the sky: Because not of this noisy world, but silent and Long is it as a barber's pole, or mast of little boat, divine ! Some little pleasure-skiff, that doth on Thames's waters float.
Whatever be the cause, 'tis sure that they who
pry and pore The Show-man chooses well his place, 'tis Leicester's Seem to meet with little gain, seen less happy than busy Square;
before: And is as happy in his night, for the heavens are One after One they take their turn, nor have I one blue and fair;
espied Calm, though impatient, is the crowd; each stands That doth not slackly go away, as if dissatisfied.
ready with the fee, And envies him that's looking ;—what an insight
must it be!