Is Nature felt, or can be; nor do words, Nor has her gentle beauty power to move sake; Untaught that meekness is the cherished bent Of all the truly great and all the innocent. 15 19 But who is innocent? By grace divine, Not otherwise, O Nature! we are thine, Through good and evil thine, in just degree Of rational and manly sympathy. To all that Earth from pensive hearts is stealing, And Heaven is now to gladdened eyes revealing, Add every charm the Universe can show Through every change its aspects undergo― Care may be respited, but not repealed; No perfect cure grows on that bounded field. Vain is the pleasure, a false calm the peace, If He, through whom alone our conflicts cease, Our virtuous hopes without relapse advance, Come not to speed the Soul's deliverance; To the distempered Intellect refuse His gracious help, or give what we abuse. 1834. 24 30 V. (BY THE SIDE OF RYDAL MERE.) THE linnet's warble, sinking towards a close, Hints to the thrush 'tis time for their repose; The shrill-voiced thrush is heedless, and again The monitor revives his own sweet strain; 6 Ere some commanding star dismiss to rest The throng of rooks, that now, from twig or nest, ΙΟ (After a steady flight on home-bound wings, O Nightingale! Who ever heard thy song Might here be moved, till Fancy grows so strong 15 That listening sense is pardonably cheated Where wood or stream by thee was never greeted. Surely, from fairest spots of favoured lands, 20 A dawn she has both beautiful and bright, When the East kindles with the full moon's light; Not like the rising sun's impatient glow 25 Wanderer by spring with gradual progress led, For sway profoundly felt as widely spread; Vale 30 Fairer than Tempe! Yet, sweet Nightingale! From the warm breeze that bears thee on, alight At will, and stay thy migratory flight; 34 Build, at thy choice, or sing, by pool or fount, 1834. 40 VI. 5 SOFT as a cloud is yon blue Ridge the Mere -An emblem this of what the sober Hour ΙΟ 15 (Unbashful dwarfs each glittering at his post) And leaves the disencumbered spirit free To reassume a staid simplicity. 'Tis well-but what are helps of time and place, 20 When wisdom stands in need of nature's grace; If yet To-morrow, unbelied, may say, 25 1834. VII. THE leaves that rustled on this oak-crowned hill, And sky that danced among those leaves, are still; Rest smooths the way for sleep; in field and bower Soft shades and dews have shed their blended power 5 On drooping eyelid and the closing flower; Sound is there none at which the faintest heart Might leap, the weakest nerve of superstition start; ΙΟ Save when the Owlet's unexpected scream Grave Creature!-whether, while the moon shines bright On thy wings opened wide for smoothest flight, Thou art discovered in a roofless tower, 16 Rising from what may once have been a lady's bower; Or spied where thou sitt'st moping in thy mew Deep in a forest, thy secure abode, 20 Thou giv'st, for pastime's sake, by shriek or shout, A puzzling notice of thy whereabout May the night never come, nor day be seen, When I shall scorn thy voice or mock thy mien ! 25 In classic ages men perceived a soul Of sapience in thy aspect, headless Owl! Thee Athens reverenced in the studious grove; And near the golden sceptre grasped by Jove, His Eagle's favourite perch, while round him sate 30 The Gods revolving the decrees of Fate, 1834. VIII. This Impromptu appeared, many years ago, among the Author's poems, from which, in subsequent editions, it was excluded. It is reprinted at the request of the Friend in whose presence the lines were thrown off. THE sun has long been set, The stars are out by twos and threes, Among the bushes and trees; |