I. THERE was a Boy; ye knew him well, ye Cliffs Blew mimic hootings to the silent owls, That they might answer him. And they would shout Across the watery vale, and shout again, Responsive to his call, with quivering peals, And long halloos, and screams, and echoes loud Redoubled and redoubled; concourse wild Of mirth and jocund din! And, when it chanced That pauses of deep silence mocked his skill, Then, sometimes, in that silence, while he hung Listening, a gentle shock of mild surprise Has carried far into his heart the voice Of mountain torrents; or the visible scene With all its solemn imagery, its rocks, Its woods, and that uncertain heaven, received This Boy was taken from his Mates, and died Upon a slope above the village-school; And there, along that bank, when I have passed At evening, I believe, that oftentimes A long half-hour together I have stood Mute looking at the grave in which he lies! ΤΟ II. On her First Ascent to the Summit of Helvellyn. INMATE of a mountain Dwelling, Potent was the spell that bound' thee In the moment of dismay, While blue Ether's arms, flung round thee, Stilled the pantings of dismay. Lo! the dwindled woods and meadows! What a vast abyss is there! Lo! the clouds, the solemn shadows, And the glistenings-heavenly fair! And a record of commotion Which a thousand ridges yield; Ridge, and gulph, and distant ocean Take thy flight;-possess, inherit Alps or Andes they are thine! With the morning's roseate spirit, Or survey the bright dominions Thine are all the choral fountains Warbling in each sparry vault Of the untrodden lunar mountains Listen to their songs! or halt, To Niphate's top invited, For the power of hills is on thee, III. TO THE CUCKOO. O BLITHE New-comer! I have heard, I hear thee and rejoice: O Cuckoo! shall I call thee Bird, While I am lying on the grass, It seems to fill the whole air's space, I hear thee babbling to the Vale Of sunshine and of flowers; But unto me thou bring'st a tale Of visionary hours. Thrice welcome, Darling of the Spring! Even yet thou art to me No Bird; but an invisible Thing, A voice, a mystery. |