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WRITTEN WHILE BAILING IN A BOAT AT ETENING.
That half-mad thing of witty rhymes
And, ere we came to Leonard's Rock,
He sang those witty rhymes
About the crazy old church clock,
And the bewildered chimes.
How richly glows the water's breast
Before us, tinged with evening hues,
While, facing thus the crimson west,
The boat her silent course pursues !
And see how dark the backward stream!
A little moment past so smiling!
And still, perhaps, with faithless gleam,
Some other loiterers beguiling.
Such views the youthful bard allure;
But, heedless of the following gloom,
He deems their colours shall endure
Till peace go with him to the tomb.
- And let him nurse his fond deceit,
And what if he must die in sorrow!
Who would not cherish dreams so sweet,
Though grief and pain may come to-morrow?
REMEMBRANCE OF COLLINS,
COMPOSED UPON THE TILAMES NEAR RICHMOND.
Glide gently, thus for ever glide,
o Thames! that other bards may see
As lovely visions by thy side
fair river! come to me.
O glide, fair stream! for ever so,
Thy quiet soul on all bestowing,
Till all our minds for ever flow,
As thy deep waters now are flowing.
Vain thoughtlYet be as now thou art,
That in thy waters may be seen
The image of a poet's heart,
How bright, how solemn, how serene!
Such as did once the poet bless,
Who, murmuring here a later ditty,
Could find no refuge from distress
But in the milder grief of pity.
Now let us, as we float along,
For him suspend the dashing oar;
that never child of song
May know that poet's sorrows more.
How calm! how still! the only sound,
The dripping of the oar suspended !
-The evening darkness gathers round
By virtue's holiest powers attended.
ANIMAL TRANQUILLITY AND DECAY.
The little hedge-row birds,
That peck along the road, regard him not.
He travels on, and in his face, his step,
My heart is at your festival, His gait, is one expression; every limb,
My head hath its coronal, His look and bending figure, all bespeak
The fulness of your bliss, I feel I feel it all. A man who does not move with pain, but moves
Oh evil day! if I were sullen With thought.—He is insensibly subdued
While the earth herself is adorning, To settled quiet: he is one by whom
This sweet May-morning; All effort seems forgotten; one to whom
And the children are pulling, Long patience hath such mild composure given,
On every side, That patience now doth seem a thing of which
In a thousand valleys far and wide, He hath no need. He is by nature led
Fresh flowers; while the sun shines 791. To peace so perfect, that the young behold
And the babe leaps up on his mother's aro:With envy, what the old man hardly feels.
I hear, I hear, with joy I hear!
- But there's a tree, of many one,
A single field which I have looked upon,
Both of them speak of something that is gone:
The pansy at my feet
Doth the same tale repeat:
Where is it now, the glory and the drean?
Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting:
The soul that rises with us, our life's star,
Hath had elsewhere its setting,
And cometh from afar;
Not in entire forgetfulness,
And not in utter nakedness,
But trailing clouds of glory do we come
From God, who is our home:
Heaven lies about us in our infancy!
Shades of the prison-house begin to close
Upon the growing boy,
But he beholds the light, and whence it for
He sees it in his joy ; The sunshine is a glorious birth;
The youth, who daily farther from the east But yet I know, where'er I go,
Must travel, still is nature's priest, That there hath passed away a glory from the earth.
And by the vision splendid
Is on his way attended;
At length the man perceives it die away,
And, even with something of a mother's mind, The cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep,
And no unworthy aim,
The homely nurse doth all she can
Forget the glories he hath known,
And that imperial palace whence he came.
Behold the child among his new-born blisses, Doth every beast keep holiday ;
A six years' darling of a pigmy size!
See, where mid work of his own hand he lies, Shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou happy Fretted by sallies of his mother's kisses,
(shepherd boy! With light upon him from bis father's eyes!
See, at his feet, some little plan or chart,
Some fragment from his dream of human life, Ye blessed creatures, I have heard the call Shaped by himself with newly-learned art; Ye to each other make; I see
A wedding or a festival, The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee;
A mourning or a funeral;
And this hath now his heart,
Which, be they what they may,
Are yet the fountain light of all our day,
Are yet a master light of all our seeing ;
Uphold us-cherish-and have power to make
Our noisy years seem moments in the being
Of the eternal silence: truths that wake,
To perish never;
Which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavour, Filling from time to time his “humorous stage"
Nor man nor boy, With all the persons, down to palsied age,
Nor all that is at enmity with joy, l'hat life brings with her in her equipage;
Can utterly abolish or destroy!
Hence, in a season of calm weather,
Though inland far we be,
Our souls have sight of that immortal sea
Which brought us hither;
Can in a moment travel thither,-
And see the children sport upon the shore,
And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore. Thy heritage, thou eye among the blind,
Then, sing ye birds, sing, sing a joyous song!
And let the young lambs bound
As to the tabor's sound!
We, in thought, will join your thirong, In darkness lost, the darkness of the grave;
Ye that pipe and ye that play, Thou, over whom thy immortality
Ye that through your hearts to-day Broods like the day, a master o'er a slave,
Feel the gladness of the May! А presence which is not to be put by;
What though the radiance which was once so bright Thou little child, yet glorious in the might
Be now for ever taken from my sight, Of heaven-born freedom, on thy being's height, Though nothing can bring back the hour Why with such earnest pains dost thou provoke Of splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower; The years to bring the inevitable yoke,
We will grieve not, rather find Thus blindly with thy blessedness at strife ?
Strength in what remains behind, Full soon thy soul shall have her earthly freight,
In the primal sympathy And custom lie upon thee with a weight,
Which having been must ever be, Heavy as frost, and deep almost as life!
In the soothing thoughts that spring
Out of human suffering,
In the faith that looks through death,
In years that bring the philosophic mind.
And oh ye fountains, meadows, hills, and groves,
Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might; For that which is most worthy to be blest;
I only have relinquished one delight Delight and liberty, the simple creed
To live beneath your more habitual sway. Of childhood, whether busy or at rest,
I love the brooks, which down their channels fret, With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his Even more than when I tripped lightly as they;
Not for these I raise (breast:- The innocent brightness of a new-born day
Is lovely yet ;
The clouds that gather round the setting sun Of sense and outward things,
Do take a sober colouring from an eye Fallings from us, vanishings;
That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality; Blank misgivings of a creature
Another race hath been, and other palms are won. Moving about in worlds not realized,
Thanks to the human heart by which we live; High instincts, before which our mortal nature
Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears; Did tremble, like a guilty thing surprised!
To me the meanest flower that blows can give But for those first affections,
Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears. Those shadowy recollections,
Breaks the serene of heaven:
Beneath her steady ray
The desert-circle spreads,
How beautiful is night!
No station is in view,
The mother and her child,
They at this untimely hour
And oh! what odours the voluptuous vale
Scatters from jasmine bowers,
From yon rose wilderness, From cluster'd henna, and from orange groves, That with such perfumes fill the breeze,
As Peris to their Sister bear, When from the summit of some lofty tree She hangs encaged, the captive of the Dives.
They from their pinions shake
And, as her enemies impure
Inhales her fragrant food. Such odours flow'd upon the world, When at Mohammed's nuptials, word
Went forth in Heaven, to roll
The everlasting gates of Paradise Back on their living hinges, that its gales Might visit all below; the general bliss
Thrill'd every bosom, and the family Of man, for once, partook one common joy.
Flow'd streams of liquid light;
Their living obelisks ;
[vine Where round their trunks the thousand-tendril'd Wound up and hung the boughs with greener
And clusters not their own. [wreaths, Wearied with endless beauty, did his eyes Return for rest? beside him teems the earth With tulips, like the ruddy evening streak’d; And here the lily hangs her head of snow;
And here amid her sable cup Shines the red eye-spot, like one brightest star,
The solitary twinkler of the night;
And here the rose expands
Her paradise of leaves.
Of harmony arose !
From bowers of merriment;
The waterfall remote;
The single nightingale
He heard not his own footsteps on the rock
The Bramin strikes the hour. That through the thick stagnation sent no sound. For leagues and leagues around, the brazen sound How sweet it were, he thought.
Rolls through the stillness of departing day,
Like thunder far away.
THE APPARITION OF YEDILLIAN.
Ye on the banks of that celestial water Is there no secret wile,
Your resting place and sanctuary have found. No lurking enemy?
What! hath not then their mortal taint defil'd
The sacred solitary ground?
Vain thought! the Holy Valley smil'd
Receiving such a sire and child;
Ganges, who seem'd asleep to lie, Downward, and downward still, and still the way,
Beheld them with benignant eye,
And rippled round melodiously,
And roll'd her little waves to meet
And welcome their beloved feet.
The gales of Swerga thither fled,
About, below, and overhead;
And Earth rejoicing in their tread,
Hath built them up a blooming bower, It was a living Image, by the art
Where every amaranthine flower Of magic hands, of flesh and bones compos'd,
Its deathless blossom interweaves And human blood, through veins and arteries
With bright and undecaying leaves. 'That flow'd with vital action. In the shape Of Eblis it was made;
Three happy beings are there here, Its stature such, and such its strength,
The sire, the maid, the Glendoveer;
A fourth approaches,—who is this
That enters in the Bower of Bliss ?
No form so fair might painter find A coronet of meteor flames,
Among the daughters of mankind; Flowing in points of light.
For death her beauties hath refin'd, Self-pois'd in air before him,
And unto her a form hath given Hung the Round Altar, rolling like the world
Framed of the elements of Heaven; On its diurnal axis; like the world
Pure dwelling-place for perfect mind. Chequer'd with sea and shore,
She stood and gaz'd on sire and child; The work of demon art.
Her tongue not yet hath power to speak, For where the sceptre in the Idol's hand
The tears were streaming down her cheek; Touch'd the Round Altar, in its answering realm,
And when those tears her sight beguil'd, Earth felt the stroke, and ocean rose in storms,
And still her faultering accents fail'd, And ruining cities, shaken from their seat,
The Spirit, mute and motionless, Crush'd all their inhabitants.
Spread out her arms for the caress, His other arm was rais'd, and its spread palm
Made still and silent with excess Up-bore the ocean-weight,
Of love and painful happiness. Whose naked waters arch'd the sanctuary.
The maid that lovely form survey'd;
Wistful she gaz'd, and knew her not; AN EASTERN EVENING.
But nature to her heart convey'd Evening comes on : arising from the stream,
A sudden thrill, a startling thought, Homeward the tall flamingo wings his flight;
A feeling many a year forgot, And wbere he sails athwart the setting beam,
Now like a dream anew recurring,
As if again in every vein
Her mother's milk was stirring.
With straining neck and earnest eye To scare the winged plunderers from their prey,
She stretch'd her hands imploringly, With shout and sling, on yonder clay-built height,
As if she fain would have her nigh, Hath borne the sultry ray.
Yet fear'd to meet the wish'd embrace, Hark! at the Golden Palaces,
At once with love and awe opprest.