From this green earth; of all the mighty world Of eye, and ear,—both what they half create,1 And what perceive; well pleased to recognise In nature and the language of the sense The anchor of my purest thoughts, the nurse, The guide, the guardian of my heart, and soul Of all my moral being.
If I were not thus taught, should I the more Suffer my genial spirits to decay:
For thou art with me here upon the banks Of this fair river; thou my dearest Friend, My dear, dear Friend; and in thy voice I catch The language of my former heart, and read My former pleasures in the shooting lights Of thy wild eyes. Oh! yet a little while May I behold in thee what I was once, My dear, dear Sister! and this prayer I make, Knowing that Nature never did betray The heart that loved her; 'tis her privilege, Through all the years of this our life, to lead From joy to joy for she can so inform The mind that is within us, so impress With quietness and beauty, and so feed
With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues, Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men, Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all The dreary intercourse of daily life, Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb Our cheerful faith, that all which we behold Is full of blessings. Therefore let the moon Shine on thee in thy solitary walk; And let the misty mountain-winds be free To blow against thee: and, in after years, When these wild ecstasies shall be matured Into a sober pleasure; when thy mind Shall be a mansion for all lovely forms,
Thy memory be as a dwelling-place
For all sweet sounds and harmonies; oh! then,
If solitude, or fear, or pain, or grief,
Should be thy portion, with what healing thoughts
Of tender joy wilt thou remember me,
And these my exhortations! Nor, perchance
If I should be where I no more can hear
Thy voice, nor catch from thy wild eyes these gleams
1 This line has a close resemblance to an admirable line of Young's, the exact expression of which I do not recollect.
Of past existence-wilt thou then forget That on the banks of this delightful stream We stood together; and that I, so long A worshipper of Nature, hither came Unwearied in that service: rather say With warmer love-oh! with far deeper zeal Of holier love. Nor wilt thou then forget, That after many wanderings, many years Of absence, these steep woods and lofty cliffs, And this green pastoral landscape, were to me More dear, both for themselves and for thy sake!
T is no Spirit who from heaven hath flown,
And is descending on his embassy;
Nor Traveller gone from earth the heavens to espy! 'Tis Hesperus-there he stands with glittering crown, First admonition that the sun is down!
For yet it is broad day-light: clouds pass by;
A few are near him still--and now the sky,
He hath it to himself-'tis all his own.
O most ambitious Star! an inquest wrought Within me when I recognised thy light; A moment I was startled at the sight:
And, while I gazed, there came to me a thought That I might step beyond my natural race
As thou seem'st now to do; might one day trace Some ground not mine; and, strong her strength above, My Soul, an Apparition in the place,
Tread there with steps that no one shall reprove!
AS IT APPEARED TO ENTHUSIASTS AT ITS COMMENCEMENT.1
6 REPRINTED FROM THE FRIEND
H! pleasant exercise of hope and joy!
For mighty were the auxiliars which then stood
Upon our side, we who were strong in love!
Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive,
But to be young was very heaven!—Oh! times, In which the meagre, stale, forbidding ways
1 This and the Extract, page 134, and the first Piece of this Class, are from the unpublished Poem of which some account is given in the Preface to THE EXCURSION.
Of custom, law, and statute, took at once The attraction of a country in romance! When Reason seemed the most to assert her rights, When most intent on making of herself A prime Enchantress-to assist the work Which then was going forward in her name! Not favoured spots alone, but the whole earth, The beauty wore of promise, that which sets (As at some moment might not be unfelt Among the bowers of paradise itself) The budding rose above the rose full blown. What temper at the prospect did not wake To happiness unthought of? The inert Were roused, and lively natures rapt away! They who had fed their childhood upon dreams, The playfellows of fancy, who had made All powers of swiftness, subtilty, and strength Their ministers,—who in lordly wise had stirred Among the grandest objects of the sense, And dealt with whatsoever they found there As if they had within some lurking right To wield it;-they, too, who, of gentle mood, Had watched all gentle motions, and to these
Had fitted their own thoughts, schemers more mild, 30 And in the region of their peaceful selves;- Now was it that both found, the meek and lofty Did both find, helpers to their heart's desire, And stuff at hand, plastic as they could wish ; Were called upon to exercise their skill, Not in Utopia, subterranean fields,
Or some secreted island, Heaven knows where! But in the very world, which is the world Of all of us, the place where in the end We find our happiness, or not at all!
'ES, it was the mountain Echo,
Y Solitary, clear, profound,
Answering to the shouting Cuckoo, Giving to her sound for sound!
Unsolicited reply
To a babbling wanderer sent; Like her ordinary cry, Like-but oh, how different!
THEREAL minstrel! pilgrim of the sky! Dost thou despise the earth where cares abound? Or, while the wings aspire, are heart and eye
Both with thy nest upon the dewy ground? Thy nest which thou canst drop into at will,
Those quivering wings composed, that music still!
Leave to the nightingale her shady wood; A privacy of glorious light is thine;
Whence thou dost pour upon the world a flood Of harmony, with instinct more divine; Type of the wise who soar, but never roam ; True to the kindred points of Heaven and Home!
WITH sacrifice before the rising morn
Vows have I made by fruitless hope in- spired;
And from the infernal Gods, 'mid shades forlorn Of night, my slaughtered Lord have I required: Celestial pity I again implore ;-
Restore him to my sight-great Jove, restore!'
So speaking, and by fervent love endowed With faith, the Suppliant heavenward lifts her hands; While, like the sun emerging from a cloud,
Her countenance brightens-and her eye expands ; Her bosom heaves and spreads, her stature grows; 11 And she expects the issue in repose.
O terror! what hath she perceived?—O joy! What doth she look on ?-whom doth she behold? Her Hero slain upon the beach of Troy? His vital presence? his corporeal mould? It is if sense deceive her not-'tis He! And a God leads him, wingèd Mercury!
Mild Hermes spake-and touched her with his wand That calms all fear; 'Such grace hath crowned thy prayer,
Laodamía! that at Jove's command
Thy Husband walks the paths of upper air:
He comes to tarry with thee three hours' space; Accept the gift, behold him face to face!'
Forth sprang the impassioned Queen her Lord to clasp;
Again that consummation she essayed; But unsubstantial Form eludes her grasp As often as that eager grasp was made. The Phantom parts-but parts to re-unite, And re-assume his place before her sight. 'Protesiláus, lo! thy guide is gone! Confirm, I pray, the vision with thy voice: This is our palace,-yonder is thy throne; Speak, and the floor thou tread'st on will rejoice. Not to appal me have the gods bestowed This precious boon; and blest a sad abode.'
'Great Jove, Laodamía! doth not leave His gifts imperfect :-Spectre though I be, I am not sent to scare thee or deceive; But in reward of thy fidelity.
And something also did my worth obtain; For fearless virtue bringeth boundless gain.
'Thou knowest, the Delphic oracle foretold That the first Greek who touched the Trojan strand Should die; but me the threat could not withhold: A generous cause a victim did demand;
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