Appears, and none of modern Fortune's Thy pleased associates :-light as endless May On infant bosoms lonely Nature lies. VI FLOWERS ERE yet our course was graced with social trees It lacked not old remains of hawthorn bowers, Where small birds warbled to their para mours; And, earlier still, was heard the hum of bees; I saw them ply their harmless robberies, And caught the fragrance which the sundry flowers, Fed by the stream with soft perpetual showers, Plenteously yielded to the vagrant breeze. There bloomed the strawberry of the wilderness; The trembling eyebright showed her sapphire blue,1 The thyme her purple, like the blush of Even; And if the breath of some to no caress Invited, forth they peeped so fair to view, All kinds alike seemed favourites of Heaven. VII 'CHANGE me, some God, into that breathing rose !" The love-sick Stripling fancifully sighs, The darts of song from out its wiry cage; Enraptured, could he for himself engage The thousandth part of what the Nymph bestows; And what the little careless innocent Ungraciously receives. Too daring choice! There are whose calmer mind it would content To be an unculled floweret of the glen, Fearless of plough and scythe; or darkling wren That tunes on Duddon's banks her slender voice. VIII WHAT aspect bore the Man who roved or fled, First of his tribe, to this dark dell-who first In this pellucid Current slaked his thirst? What hopes came with him? what designs were spread Along his path? His unprotected bed What dreams encompassed? Was the in truder nursed In hideous usages, and rites accursed, That thinned the living and disturbed the dead? No voice replies;-both air and earth are mute; And Thou, blue Streamlet, murmuring yield'st no more Than a soft record, that, whatever fruit Of ignorance thou might'st witness heretofore, Thy function was to heal and to restore, To soothe and cleanse, not madden and pollute! NOT so that Pair whose youthful spirits dance With prompt emotion, urging them to pass; A sweet confusion checks the Shepherdlass; Blushing she eyes the dizzy flood askance; To stop ashamed-too timid to advance; She ventures once again—another pause! His outstretched hand He tauntingly withdraws She sues for help with piteous utterance! Chidden she chides again; the thrilling touch Both feel, when he renews the wished-for aid: Ah! if their fluttering hearts should stir too much, Should beat too strongly, both may be betrayed. The frolic Loves, who, from yon high rock, see The struggle, clap their wings for victory! Is traceable a vestige of the notes XIV O MOUNTAIN Stream! the Shepherd and his Cot Are privileged Inmates of deep solitude; O'er twilight fields the autumnal gossamer? Nor would the nicest Anchorite exclude XII HINTS FOR THE FANCY ON, loitering Muse-the swift Stream chides us-on! Albeit his deep-worn channel doth immure skeleton, And the solidities of mortal pride, Palace and tower, are crumbled into dust!— The Bard who walks with Duddon for his guide, Shall find such toys of fancy thickly set: Turn from the sight, enamoured Musewe must; And, if thou canst, leave them without regret! XIII OPEN PROSPECT HAIL to the fields-with Dwellings sprinkled o'er, And one small hamlet, under a green hill Clustering, with barn and byre, and spouting mill! A glance suffices; —should we wish for more, Gay June would scorn us. But when bleak winds roar Through the stiff lance-like shoots of pollard ash, Dread swell of sound! loud as the gusts that lash The matted forests of Ontario's shore By wasteful steel unsmitten-then would I Turn into port; and, reckless of the gale, Reckless of angry Duddon sweeping by, While the warm hearth exalts the mantling ale, Laugh with the generous household heartily At all the merry pranks of Donnerdale! A field or two of brighter green, or plot By fits and starts, yet this contents thee not. Thee hath some awful Spirit impelled to leave, Utterly to desert, the haunts of men, Though simple thy companions were and few; And through this wilderness a passage cleave Attended but by thy own voice, save when The clouds and fowls of the air thy way pursue! 1806. XV FROM this deep chasm, where quivering sunbeams play Upon its loftiest crags, mine eyes behold A concave free from shrubs and mosses grey; XVI AMERICAN TRADITION SUCH fruitless questions may not long beguile Or plague the fancy 'mid the sculptured shows Conspicuous yet where Oroonoko flows; There would the Indian answer with a smile Aimed at the White Man's ignorance, the while, Innocuous as a firstling of the flock, a shock Given and received in mutual jeopardy, Dance, like a Bacchanal, from rock to rock, Tossing her frantic thyrsus wide and high ! XXI WHENCE that low voice?-A whisper from the heart, That told of days long past, when here I roved With friends and kindred tenderly beloved; Some who had early mandates to depart, Yet are allowed to steal my path athwart By Duddon's side; once more do we unite, Once more, beneath the kind Earth's tranquil light; And smothered joys into new being start. From her unworthy seat, the cloudy stall Of Time, breaks forth triumphant Memory; Her glistening tresses bound, yet light and free As golden locks of birch, that rise and fall On gales that breathe too gently to recall Aught of the fading year's inclemency! XXIII SHEEP-WASHING SAD thoughts, avaunt!—partake we their blithe cheer Who gathered in betimes the unshorn flock To wash the fleece, where haply bands of rock, Checking the stream, make a pool smooth and clear As this we look on. Distant Mountains hear, Hear and repeat, the turmoil that unites fear. And what if Duddon's spotless flood receive Unwelcome mixtures as the uncouth noise Thickens, the pastoral River will forgive Such wrong; nor need we blame the licensed joys, Though false to Nature's quiet equipoise: Frank are the sports, the stains are fugitive. XXII TRADITION A LOVE-LORN Maid, at some far-distant time, Came to this hidden pool, whose depths surpass In crystal clearness Dian's looking-glass; And, gazing, saw that Rose, which from the prime Derives its name, reflected, as the chime Of echo doth reverberate some sweet sound: The starry treasure from the blue profound She longed to ravish ;-shall she plunge, or climb The humid precipice, and seize the guest Of April, smiling high in upper air? Desperate alternative! what fiend could dare To prompt the thought?-Upon the steep rock's breast The lonely Primrose yet renews its bloom, Untouched memento of her hapless doom! XXIV THE RESTING-PLACE MID-NOON is past;-upon the sultry mead No zephyr breathes, no cloud its shadow throws: If we advance unstrengthened by repose, Tempting recess as ever pilgrim chose, Be loth that we should breathe awhile exempt From new incitements friendly to our task, Here wants not stealthy prospect, that may tempt Loose Idless to forego her wily mask. XXV METHINKS 'twere no unprecedented feat Should some benignant Minister of air Lift, and encircle with a cloudy chair, |