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Triumphant.—Inundation wide and deep, 9
O'er which his Fathers urged, to ridge and steep
Else unapproachable, their buoyant way;
And carved, on mural cliff's undreaded side,
Sun, moon, and stars, and beast of chase or prey;
Whate'er they sought, shunned, loved, or
deified!"

XVII.
RETURN.

A Dark plume fetch me from yon blasted yew,
Perched on whose top the Danish Raven croaks;
Aloft, the imperial Bird of Rome invokes
Departed ages, shedding where he flew
Loose fragments of wild wailing, that bestrew 5
The clouds and thrill the chambers of the rocks;
And into silence hush the timorous flocks,
That, calmly couching while the nightly dew
Moistened each fleece, beneath the twinkling

stars Slept amid that lone Camp on Hardknot's

height,2 1 o

Whose Guardians bent the knee to Jove and

Mars: Or near that mystic Round of Druid frame Tardily sinking by its proper weight Deep into patient Earth, from whose smooth.

breast it came!

XVIII.

SEATHWAITE CHAPEL.

Sacred Religion !" mother of form and fear," Dread arbitress of mutable respect,

1 See Humboldt's Personal Narrative.

2 See Note.

New rites ordaining when the old are wrecked, Or cease to please the fickle worshipper; Mother of Love! (that name best suits thee

here) 5

Mother of Love! for this deep vale protect
Truth's holy lamp, pure source of bright effect,
G-ifted to purge the vapoury atmosphere
That seeks to stifle it;—as in those days 9

When this low Pile ' a Gospel Teacher knew,
Whose good works formed an endless retinue:
A Pastor such as Chaucer's verse portrays;
Such as the heaven-taught skill of Herbert

drew; And tender Goldsmith crowned with deathless

praise!

XIX.
TRIBUTARY STREAM.

My frame hath often trembled with delight
When hope presented some far-distant good.
That seemed from heaven descending, like the

flood Of yon pure waters, from their aery height Hurrying, with lordly Duddon to unite; 5

Who, 'mid a world of images imprest
On the calm depth of his transparent breast,
Appears to cherish most that Torrent white,
The fairest, softest, liveliest of them all!
And seldom hath ear listened to a tune 10

More lulling than the busy hum of Noon,
Swoln by that voice—whose murmur musical
Announces to the thirsty fields a boon
Dewy and fresh, till showers again shall fall.

1 See Note.

THE PLAIN OF DONNERDALE.

The old inventive Poets, had they seen,

Or rather felt, the entrancement that detains

Thy waters, Duddon! 'mid these flowery plains;

The still repose, the liquid lapse serene,

Transferred to bowers imperishably green, 5

Had beautified Elysium! But these chains

Will soon be broken ;—a rough course remains,

Kough as the past; where Thou, of placid mien.

Innocuous as a firstling of the flock,

And countenanced like a soft cerulean sky, 10

Shalt change thy temper; and, with many a

shock
Given and received in mutual jeopardy,
Dance, like a Bacchanal, from rock to rock,
Tossing her frantic thyrsus wide and high!

XXI.

Whence that low voice ?—A whisper from the

heart, That told of days long past, when here I

roved With friends and kindred tenderly beloved; Some who had early mandates to depart, Yet are allowed to steal my path athwart 5

By Duddon's side; once more do we unite, Once more beneath the kind Earth's tranquil

light; And smothered joys into new being start. From her unworthy seat, the cloudy stall Of Time, breaks forth triumphant Memory; 10 Her glistening tresses bound, yet light and

free

As golden locks of birch, that rise and fall
On gales that breathe too gently to recall
Aught of the fading year's inclemency!

XXII.

TRADITION.

A Love-lorn Maid, at some far-distant time, Came to this hidden pool, whose depths

surpass In crystal clearness Dian's looking-glass; And, gazing, saw that Rose, which from the

prime Derives its name, reflected as the chime 5

Of echo doth reverberate some sweet sound: The starry treasure from the blue profound She longed to ravish;—shall she plunge, or

climb The humid precipice, and seize the guest Of April, smiling high in upper air? 10

Desperate alternative! what fiend could dare To prompt the thought ?—Upon the steep rock's

breast
The lonely Primrose yet renews its bloom,
Untouched memento of her hapless doom!

XXIII.
SHEEP-WASHING.

Sad thoughts, avaunt!—partake we their blithe

cheer Who gathered in betimes the unshorn flock To wash the fleece, where haply bands of rock, Checking the stream, make a pool smooth

and clear As this we look on. Distant Mountains hear, 5 Hear and repeat, the turmoil that unites

Clamour of boys with innocent despites

Of barking dogs, and bleatings from strange

fear. And what if Duddon's spotless flood receive Unwelcome mixtures as the uncouth noise 10 Thickens, the pastoral River will forgive Such wrong; nor need we blame the licensed

joys, Though false to Nature's quiet equipoise: Frank are the sports, the stains are fugitive.

THE RESTING-PLACE.

Mid-noon is past;—upon the sultry mead
No zephyr breathes, no cloud its shadow

throws:
If we advance unstrengthened by repose,
Farewell the solace of the vagrant reed!
This Nook—-with woodbine hung and straggling

weed, 5

Tempting recess as ever pilgrim chose,
Half grot, half arbour—proffers to enclose
Body and mind, from molestation freed,
In narrow compass—narrow as itself:
Or if the Fancy, too industrious Elf, 10

Be loth that we should breathe awhile exempt
From new incitements friendly to our task,
Here wants not stealthy prospect, that may

tempt Loose Idless to forego her wily mask.

xxv.

Methinks 'twere no unprecedented feat
Should some benignant Minister of air

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