Along the river's stony marge The sand-lark chants a joyous song; A thousand lambs are on the rocks, That plaintive cry! which up the hill -Away the shepherds flew ; They leapt they ran-and when they came It was a spot which you may see If ever you to Langdale go; Into a chasm a mighty block Hath fallen, and made a bridge of rock: And, in a basin black and small, With staff in hand across the cleft When list! he hears a piteous moan- His dam had seen him when he fell, The lamb, still swimming round and round, Both gladly now deferred their task; ANECDOTE FOR FATHERS. "Retine vim istam, falsa enim dicam, si coges." EUSEBIUS I HAVE a boy of five years old; One morn we strolled on our dry walk, My thoughts on former pleasures ran; A day it was when I could bear The green earth echoed to the feet My boy beside me tripped, so slim "Now tell me, had you rather be," I said, and took him by the arm, In careless mood he looked at me, "For, here are woods, hiils smooth and warm: Why you would change sweet Liswyn farm At this, my boy hung down his head, D The Magog of Legberthwaite dale. Just half a week after, the wind sallied forth, And, in anger or merriment, out of the north, Coming on with a terrible pother, From the peak of the crag blew the giant away. And what did these school-boys? The very next day They went and they built up another. Some little I've seen of blind boisterous works By Christian disturbers more savage than Turks, Spirits busy to do and undo: At remembrance whereof my blood sometimes will flag; Then, light-hearted Boys, to the top of the crag ; And I'll build up a giant with you. 1801. XIV. THE PET-LAMB. A PASTORAL. THE dew was falling fast, the stars began to blink: I heard a voice; it said, "Drink, pretty creature, drink!" And, looking o'er the hedge, before me I espied A snow-white mountain-lamb with a Maiden at its side. Nor sheep nor kine were near the lamb was all alone, And by a slender cord was tethered to a stone; With one knee on the grass did the little Maiden kneel, While to that mountain-lamb she gave its evening meal. * GREAT How is a single and conspicuous hill, which rises towards the foot of Thirlmere, on the western side of the beautiful dale of Legberthwaite. THOU! whose fancies from afar are brought: Who of thy words dost make a mock apparel, And fittest to unutterable thought The breeze-like motion and the self-born carol; To brood on air than on an earthly stream; I think of thee with many fears INFLUENCE OF NATURAL OBJECTS IN CALLING FORTH AND STRENGTHENING THE FROM AN UNPUBLISHED POEM. [This extract is reprinted from "THE FRIEND."] Nor was this fellowship vouchsafed to me I heeded not the summons: happy time steel We hissed along the polished ice, in games Confederate, imitative of the chase And woodland pleasures,-the resounding horn, The pack loud-chiming, and the hunted hare. Of melancholy, not unnoticed while the stars, Not seldom from the uproar I retired Into a silent bay, or sportively. Glanced sideway, leaving the tumultuous throng, To cut across the reflex of a star: Image, that, flying still before me, gleamed The rapid line of motion, then at once XVII. THE LONGEST DAY. LET us quit the leafy arbour, Evening now unbinds the fetters Yet by some grave thoughts attended Is the longest of the year. Dora! sport, as now thou sportest, Who would check the happy feeling Yet at this impressive season, And, while shades to shades succeeding Tending to the darksome hollows Yet we mark it not ;-fruits redden, Follow thou the flowing river On whose breast are thither borne Thus when thou with Time hast travelled Sometimes frowns, or seems to frown; And ensures those palms of honour His flock, along the woodland's edge with relics sprinkled o'er Of last night's snow, beneath a sky threatening the fall of more, Where tufts of herbage tempted each, were busy at their feed, And the poor Boy was busier still, with work of anxious heed. There was he, where of branches rent and withered and decayed, For covert from the keen north wind, his hands a hut had made. A tiny tenement, forsooth, and frail, as needs must be A thing of such materials framed, by a builder such as he. The hut stood finished by his pains, nor seemingly lacked aught That skill or means of his could add, but the architect had wrought Some limber twigs into a Cross, well-shaped with fingers nice, To be engrafted on the top of his small edifice. That Cross he now was fastening there, as the surest power and best For supplying all deficiencies, all wants of the rude nest In which, from burning heat, or tempest driving far and wide, The innocent Boy, else shelterless, his lonely head must hide. That Cross belike he also raised as a standard for the true And faithful service of his heart in the worst that might ensue Of hardship and distressful fear, amid the houseless waste Where he, in his poor self so weak, by Providence was placed. -Here, Lady! might I cease; but nay, let as before we part With this dear holy shepherd-boy breathe a prayer of earnest heart, That unto him, where'er shall lie his life's appointed way, The Cross, fixed in his soul, may prove an allsufficing stay. The Child, as if the thunder's voice spake with articulate call, Bowed meekly in submissive fear, before the Lord of All; His lips were moving; and his eyes, upraised to sue for grace, With soft illumination cheered the dimness of that place. How beautiful is holiness!-what wonder if the sight, Almost as vivid as a dream, produced a dream at night? It came with sleep and showed the Boy, no cherub, not transformed, But the poor ragged Thing whose ways my human heart had warmed. Me had the dream equipped with wings, so I took him in my arms, And And By lifted from the grassy floor, stilling his faint alarms, bore him high through yielding air my debt of love to pay, giving him, for both our sakes, an hour of holiday. I whispered, "Yet a little while, dear Child! thou art my own, To show thee some delightful thing, in country or in town. What shall it be? a mirthful throng? or that holy place and calm St Denis, filled with royal tombs, or the Church of Notre Dame? "St Ouen's golden Shrine? Or choose what else would please thee most Of any wonder, Normandy, or all proud France, can boast!" "My Mother," said the Boy, was born near to a blessed Tree, The Chapel Oak of Allonville; good Angel, show it me!' On wings, from broad and stedfast poise let loose by this reply, For Allonville, o'er down and dale, away then did we fly; O'er town and tower we flew, and fields in May's fresh verdure drest; The wings they did not flag; the Child, though grave, was not deprest. But who shall show, to waking sense, of light that broke the gleam Forth from his eyes, when first the Boy looked down on that huge oak, For length of days so much revered, so famous where it stands For twofold hallowing-Nature's care, and work of human hands? Strong as an Eagle with my charge I glided round and round The wide-spread boughs, for view of door, window, and stair that wound Gracefully up the gnarled trunk; nor left we unsurveyed The pointed steeple peering forth from the centre of the shade. |