No beast, no bird, hath here his home;
Bees, wafted on the breezy air,
Pass high above those fragrant bells
To other flowers:-to other dells
Their burthens do they bear ;

The Danish Boy walks here alone:
The lovely dell is all his own.

III

A Spirit of noon-day is he;

Yet seems a form of flesh and blood;
Nor piping shepherd shall he be,
Nor herd-boy of the wood.

A regal vest of fur he wears,
In colour like a raven's wing ;

It fears not rain, nor wind, nor dew;
But in the storm 'tis fresh and blue
As budding pines in spring;
His helmet has a vernal grace,
Fresh as the bloom upon his face.

IV

A harp is from his shoulder slung ;
Resting the harp upon his knee,
To words of a forgotten tongue
He suits its melody.

Of flocks upon the neighbouring hill
He is the darling and the joy;
And often, when no cause appears,
The mountain-ponies prick their ears,
-They hear the Danish Boy,
While in the dell he sings alone
Beside the tree and corner-stope.

V

There sits he; in his face you spy
No trace of a ferocious air,
Nor ever was a cloudless sky

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So steady or so fair.

The lovely Danish Boy is blest

XXIII

SONG

FOR THE WANDERING JEW

HOUGH the torrents from their fountains
Roar down many a craggy steep,

ΤΗ

Yet they find among the mountains
Resting-places calm and deep.

Clouds that love through air to hasten,
Ere the storm its fury stills,
Helmet-like themselves will fasten
On the heads of towering hills.

What, if through the frozen centre
Of the Alps the Chamois bound,
Yet he has a home to enter
In some nook of chosen ground:

And the Sea-horse, though the ocean
Yield him no domestic cave,
Slumbers without sense of motion,
Couched upon the rocking wave.

If on windy days the Raven
Gambol like a dancing skiff,
Not the less she loves her haven
In the bosom of the cliff.

The fleet Ostrich, till day closes,
Vagrant over desert sands,
Brooding on her eggs reposes

When chill night that care demands.
Day and night my toils redouble,
Never nearer to the goal;

Night and day, I feel the trouble
Of the Wanderer in my soul.

XXIV

STRAY PLEASURES

-Pleasure is spread through the earth

1800

In stray gifts to be claimed by whoever shall find.'

Y their floating mill,

BY

That lies dead and still,

Behold yon Prisoners three,

ΤΟ

20

The Miller with two Dames, on the breast of the Thames!

The platform is small, but gives room for them all;
And they're dancing merrily.

From the shore come the notes

To their mill where it floats,

To their house and their mill tethered fast:

To the small wooden isle where, their work to beguile, They from morning to even take whatever is given ;— And many a blithe day they have past.

In sight of the spires,

All alive with the fires

Of the sun going down to his rest,

In the broad open eye of the solitary sky,
They dance, there are three, as jocund as free,
While they dance on the calm river's breast.

Man and Maidens wheel,

They themselves make the reel,
And their music's a prey which they seize;
It plays not for them,-what matter? 'tis theirs ;
And if they had care, it has scattered their cares
While they dance, crying, ' Long as ye please!"

They dance not for me,

Yet mine is their glee!

Thus pleasure is spread through the earth

In stray gifts to be claimed by whoever shall find ;
Thus a rich loving-kindness, redundantly kind,
Moves all nature to gladness and mirth.

The showers of the spring

Rouse the birds, and they sing;

If the wind do but stir for his proper delight,
Each leaf, that and this, his neighbour will kiss ;
Each wave, one and t' other, speeds after his brother;
They are happy, for that is their right!

XXV

THE PILGRIM'S DREAM

OR, THE STAR AND THE GLOW-WORM

A

PILGRIM, when the summer-day
Had closed upon his weary way,
A lodging begged beneath a castle's roof;
But him the haughty Warder spurned;
And from the gate the Pilgrim turned,
To seek such covert as the field

Or heath-besprinkled copse might yield,
Or lofty wood, shower-proof.

1806

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He paced along; and, pensively,
Halting beneath a shady tree,

Whose moss-grown root might serve for couch
or seat,

Fixed on a Star his upward eye;

Then from the tenant of the sky

He turned, and watched with kindred look
A Glow-worm, in a dusky nook,
Apparent at his feet.

The murmur of a neighbouring stream
Induced a soft and slumbrous dream,

A pregnant dream, within whose shadowy bounds He recognised the earth-born Star,

And That which glittered from afar;

And (strange to witness!) from the frame
Of the ethereal Orb there came

Intelligible sounds.

Much did it taunt the humble Light

That now, when day was fled, and night

Hushed the dark earth, fast closing weary eyes,

A very reptile could presume

To show her taper in the gloom,

As if in rivalship with One

Who sate a ruler on his throne
Erected in the skies.

'Exalted Star!' the Worm replied,
'Abate this unbecoming pride,
Or with a less uneasy lustre shine;
Thou shrink'st as momently thy rays
Are mastered by the breathing haze;
While neither mist, nor thickest cloud
That shapes in heaven its murky shroud,
Hath power to injure mine.

'But not for this do I aspire

To match the spark of local fire,

That at my will burns on the dewy lawn,

With thy acknowledged glories ;-No!

Yet, thus upbraided, I may show

What favours do attend me here,

Till, like thyself, I disappear
Before the purple dawn.'

ΙΟ

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When this in modest guise was said,
Across the welkin seemed to spread

A boding sound-for aught but sleep unfit!
Hills quaked, the rivers backward ran;
That Star, so proud of late, looked wan;
And reeled with visionary stir

In the blue depth, like Lucifer

Cast headlong to the pit!

Fire raged and, when the spangled floor

Of ancient ether was no more,

50

New heavens succeeded, by the dream brought

forth:

And all the happy Souls that rode

Transfigured through that fresh abode
Had heretofore, in humble trust,
Shone meekly 'mid their native dust,
The Glow-worms of the earth!

This knowledge, from an Angel's voice
Proceeding, made the heart rejoice
Of Him who slept upon the open lea:
Waking at morn he murmured not;
And, till life's journey closed, the spot

60

Was to the Pilgrim's soul endeared,

70

Where by that dream he had been cheered
Beneath the shady tree.

1818

XXVI

THE POET AND THE CAGED TURTLEDOVE

S often as I murmur here

A My half-formed melodies,

Straight from her osier mansion near
The Turtledove replies:
Though silent as a leaf before,

The captive promptly coos;
Is it to teach her own soft lore,
Or second my weak Muse?

I rather think the gentle Dove
Is murmuring a reproof,
Displeased that I from lays of love
Have dared to keep aloof;

ΤΟ