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VIEW FROM THE TOP OF

BLACK COMB.

This Height a ministering Angel might select:
For from the summit of Black COMB (dread name
Derived from clouds and storms !) the amplest range
Of unobstructed prospect may be seen
That British ground commands:- low dusky tracts,
Where Trent is nursed, far southward ! Cambrian

Hills
To the south-west, a multitudinous show;
And, in a line of eye-sight linked with these,
The hoary Peaks of Scotland that give birth
To Tiviot's Stream, to Annan, Tweed, and Clyde;-
Crowding the quarter whence the sun comes forth
Gigantic Mountains rough with crags; beneath,
Right at the imperial Station's western base,
Main Ocean, breaking audibly, and stretched

Far into silent regions blue and pale;-
And visibly engirding Mona’s Isle
That, as we left the Plain, before our sight
Stood like a lofty Mount, uplifting slowly,
(Above the convex of the watery globe)
Into clear view the cultured fields that streak
Its habitable shores ; but now appears
A dwindled object, and submits to lie
At the Spectator's feet. — Yon azure Ridge,
Is it a perishable cloud? Or there
Do we behold the frame of Erin's Coast?
Land sometimes by the roving shepherd swain
(Like the bright confines of another world)
Not doubtfully perceived. — Look homeward now!
In depth, in height, in circuit, how serene
The spectacle, how pure! — Of Nature's works,
In earth, and air, and earth-embracing sea,
A revelation infinite it seems;
Display august of man's inheritance,
Of Britain's calm felicity and power.

VII.

NUTTING.

- It seems a day, (I speak of one from many singled out) One of those heavenly days which cannot die; When forth I sallied from our Cottage-door, With a huge wallet o'er my shoulder slung, A nutting-crook in hand, and turn'd my steps Towards the distant woods, a Figure quaint, Tricked out in proud disguise of cast-off weeds Which for that service had been husbanded, By exhortation of my frugal Dame. Motley accoutrement of power to smile At thorns, and brakes, and brambles, — and, in

truth, More ragged than need was. Among the woods, And o'er the pathless rocks, I forced my way

Until, at length, I came to one dear nook
Unvisited, where not a broken bough
Drooped with its withered leaves, ungracious sign
Of devastation, but the hazels rose
Tall and erect, with milk-white clusters hung,
A virgin scene ! - A little while I stood,
Breathing with such suppression of the heart
As joy delights in ; and, with wise restraint
Voluptuous, fearless of a rival, eyed
The banquet, — or beneath the trees I sate
Among the flowers, and with the flowers I played ;
A temper known to those, who, after long
And weary expectation, have been blessed
With sudden happiness beyond all hope. -
Perhaps it was a bower beneath whose leaves
The violets of five seasons re-appear
And fade, unseen by any human eye;
Where fairy water-breaks do murmur on
For ever, -- and I saw the sparkling foam,
And with my cheek on one of those green stones
That, fleeced with moss, beneath the shady trees,
Lay round me, scattered like a flock of sheep,
I heard the murmur and the murmuring sound,
In that sweet mood when pleasure loves to pay

Tribute to ease; and, of its joy secure,
The heart luxuriates with indifferent things,
Wasting its kindliness on stocks and stones,
And on the vacant air. Then up I rose,
And dragged to earth both branch and bough, with

crash
And merciless ravage; and the shady nook
Of hazels, and the green and mossy bower,
Deformed and sullied, patiently gave up
Their quiet being: and, unless I now
Confound my present feelings with the past,
Even then, when from the bower I turned away
Exulting, rich beyond the wealth of kings,
I felt a sense of pain when I beheld
The silent trees and the intruding sky. -
Then, dearest Maiden! move along these shades
In gentleness of heart ; with gentle hand
Touch — for there is a spirit in the woods.

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