The thoughtful Monks, intent their God to please,

For Christ's dear sake, by human sympathies

Poured from the bosom of thy Church, St. Bees!

But all availed not; by a mandate given Through lawless will the Brotherhood was driven

Forth from their cells; their ancient House

laid low

In Reformation's sweeping overthrow.
But now once more the local Heart revives,
The inextinguishable Spirit strives.
Oh may that Power who hushed the stormy

seas,

And cleared a way for the first Votaries, Prosper the new-born College of St. Bees!

Alas! the Genius of our age, from Schools Less humble, draws her lessons, aims, and rules.

To Prowess guided by her insight keen
Matter and Spirit are as one Machine;
Boastful Idolatress of formal skill

She in her own would merge the eternal will:

Better, if Reason's triumphs match with these,

Her flight before the bold credulities
That furthered the first teaching of St. Bees.1

He will take with him to the silent tomb. Or, by his fire, a child upon his knee, Haply the untaught Philosopher may speak Of the strange sight, nor hide his theory That satisfies the simple and the meek, Blest in their pious ignorance, though weak

To cope with Sages undevoutly free.

XIII

AT SEA OFF THE ISLE OF MAN

BOLD words affirmed, in days when faith was strong

And doubts and scruples seldom teased the brain,

That no adventurer's bark had power to gain These shores if he approached them beat on wrong;

For, suddenly up-conjured from the Main, Mists rose to hide the Land-that search, though long

And eager, might be still pursued in vain.
O Fancy, what an age was that for song!
That age, when not by laws inanimate,
As men believed, the waters were impelled,
The air controlled, the stars their courses

held;

But element and orb on acts did wait Of Powers endued with visible form, instinct With will, and to their work by passion linked.

No, let this Age, high as she may, instal In her esteem the thirst that wrought man's fall,

The universe is infinitely wide;

And conquering Reason, if self-glorified, Can nowhere move uncrossed by some new wall

Or gulf of mystery, which thou alone,

cause,

1 See "Excursion," seventh part; and "Ecclesiastical Sketches," second part, near the beginning.

In progress toward the fount of Love,

the throne

Of Power whose ministers the records keep

XVII

ISLE OF MAN

My son William is here the person alluded to as saving the life of the youth, and the circumstances were as mentioned in the Sonnet.

A YOUTH too certain of his power to wade On the smooth bottom of this clear bright

sea,

To sight so shallow, with a bather's glee
Leapt from this rock, and but for timely aid
He, by the alluring element betrayed,
Had perished. Then might Sea-nymphs
(and with sighs

Of self-reproach) have chanted elegies
Bewailing his sad fate, when he was laid
In peaceful earth: for, doubtless, he was
frank,

Utterly in himself devoid of guile;
Knew not the double-dealing of a smile;
Nor aught that makes men's promises a
blank,

Or deadly snare: and He survives to bless The Power that saved him in his strange distress.

XVI

BY THE SEASHORE, ISLE OF MAN

WHY stand we gazing on the sparkling
Brine,

With wonder smit by its transparency,
And all-enraptured with its purity?—
Because the unstained, the clear, the
crystalline,

Have ever in them something of benign;
Whether in gem, in water, or in sky,
A sleeping infant's brow, or wakeful eye
Of a young maiden, only not divine.
Scarcely the hand forbears to dip its palm
For beverage drawn as from a mountain-
well;

Temptation centres in the liquid Calm;
Our daily raiment seems no obstacle
To instantaneous plunging in, deep Sea!
And revelling in long embrace with thee.2
1 See Note.

2 The sea-water on the coast of the Isle of Man is singularly pure and beautiful.

XVIII

ISLE OF MAN

DID pangs of grief for lenient time too keen, Grief that devouring waves had caused, or guilt

Which they had witnessed-sway the man who built

This Homestead, placed where nothing could be seen,

Nought heard, of ocean troubled or serene?
A tired Ship-soldier on paternal land,
That o'er the channel holds august com-

mand,

The dwelling raised, a veteran Marine. He, in disgust, turned from the neighbouring sea

To shun the memory of a listless life
That hung between two callings. May no

strife

More hurtful here beset him, doomed though free,

Self-doomed, to worse inaction, till his eye Shrink from the daily sight of earth and

sky!

XIX

BY A RETIRED MARINER, H. H.

Mrs. Wordsworth's Brother Henry.

FROM early youth I ploughed the restless Main,

My mind as restless and as apt to change;
Through every clime and ocean did I range,
In hope at length a competence to gain;
For poor to Sea I went, and poor I still
remain.

Year after year I strove, but strove in vain,
And hardships manifold did I endure,
For Fortune on me never deigned to smile;
Yet I at last a resting-place have found,
With just enough life's comforts to procure,
In a snug Cove on this our favoured Isle,
A peaceful spot where Nature's gifts
abound;

Then sure I have no reason to complain, Though poor to Sea I went, and poor I still remain. 1

XX

AT BALA-SALA, ISLE OF MAN Supposed to be written by a friend (Mr. Cookson) who died there a few years after.

BROKEN in fortune, but in mind entire
And sound in principle, I seek repose
Where ancient trees this convent-pile en-
close, 2

In ruin beautiful. When vain desire
Intrudes on peace, I pray the eternal Sire
To cast a soul-subduing shade on me,
A grey-haired, pensive, thankful Refugee;
A shade-but with some sparks of heavenly
fire

Once to these cells vouchsafed. And when

I note

The old Tower's brow yellowed as with the beams

Of sunset ever there, albeit streams

Of stormy weather - stains that semblance

wrought,

I thank the silent Monitor, and say

ΧΧΙ

TYNWALD HILL

Mr. Robinson and I walked the greater part of the way from Castle-town to Piel, and stopped some time at Tynwald Hill. One of my companions was an elderly man, who in a muddy way (for he was tipsy) explained and answered, as far as he could, my enquiries about this place and the. ceremonies held here. I found more agreeable company in some little children; one of whom, upon my request, recited the Lord's Prayer to me, and I helped her to a clearer understanding of it as well as I could; but I was not at all satisfied with my own part; hers was much better done, and I am persuaded that, like other children, she knew more about it than she was able to express, especially to a stranger.

ONCE on the top of Tynwald's formal mound

(Still marked with green turf circles narrowing

Stage above stage) would sit this Island's King,

The laws to promulgate, enrobed and crowned:

While, compassing the little mount around, Degrees and Orders stood, each under each: Now, like to things within fate's easiest reach

The power is merged, the pomp a grave

the day!"

1 See Note.

2 Rushen Abbey.

shame,

3 See Note.

His sides, or wreathe with mist his forehead high:

Now, faintly darkening with the sun's eclipse,

Still is he seen, in lone sublimity,
Towering above the sea and little ships;
For dwarfs the tallest seem while sailing by,
Each for her haven; with her freight of Care,
Pleasure, or Grief, and Toil that seldom
looks

Into the secret of to-morrow's fare; Though poor, yet rich, without the wealth of books,

Or aught that watchful Love to Nature owes For her mute Powers, fixed Forms, or transient Shows.

XXIII

IN THE FRITH OF CLYDE, AILSA CRAG DURING AN ECLIPSE OF THE SUN, JULY 17 The morning of the eclipse was exquisitely beautiful while we passed the Crag as described in the Sonnet. On the deck of the steamboat were several persons of the poor and labouring class, and I could not but be struck by their cheerful talk with each other, while not one of them seemed to notice the magnificent objects with which we were surrounded; and even the phenomenon of the eclipse attracted but little of their attention. Was it right not to regret this? They appeared to me, however, so much alive in their own minds to their own concerns that I could not look upon it as a misfortune that they had little perception for such pleasures as cannot be cultivated without ease and leisure. Yet if one surveys life in all its duties and relations, such ease and leisure will not be found so enviable a privilege as it may at first appear. Natural Philosophy, Painting, and Poetry, and refined taste, are no doubt great acquisitions to society; but among those who dedicate themselves to such pursuits it is to be feared that few are as happy, and as consistent in the management of their lives, as the class of persons who at that time led me into this course of reflection. I do not mean by this to be understood to derogate from intellectual pursuits, for that would be monstrous: I say it in deep gratitude for this compensation to those whose cares are limited to the necessities of daily life. Among them, selftormentors so numerous in the higher classes of society, are rare.

SINCE risen from ocean, ocean to defy, Appeared the crag of Ailsa, ne'er did morn With gleaming lights more gracefully adorn

XXIV

ON THE FRITH OF CLYDE

IN A STEAMBOAT

The mountain outline on the north of this island, as seen from the Frith of Clyde, is much the finest I have ever noticed in Scotland or elsewhere.

ARRAN! a single-crested Teneriffe,

A St. Helena next-in shape and hue,
Varying her crowded peaks and ridges blue;
Who but must covet a cloud-seat, or skiff
Built for the air, or winged Hippogriff?
That he might fly, where no one could
pursue,

From this dull Monster and her sooty crew;
And, as a God, light on thy topmost cliff.
Impotent wish! which reason would despise
If the mind knew no union of extremes,
No natural bond between the boldest
schemes,

Ambition frames, and heart-humilities.
Beneath stern mountains many a soft vale