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Or, where tears flow not, sigh succeeding sigh, 10 Yield to such after-thought the sole reply Which justly it can claim. The Nation hears In this deep knell, silent for threescore years An unexampled voice of awful memory!
JUNE, 1820. FAME tells of groves—from England far awayGroves that inspire the Nightingale to trils And modulate, with subtle reach of skill Elsewhere unmatched, her ever-varying lay; Such bold report I venture to gainsay: For I have heard the quire of Richmond hill Chanting with indefatigable bill, Strains that recalled to mind a distant day; When, haply under shade of that same wood, And scarcely conscious of the dashing oars 10 Plied steadily between those willowy shores, The sweet-souled Poet of the Seasons stoodListening, and listening long, in rapturous mood, Ye heavenly Birds! to your Progenitors.
VII. A PARSONAGE IN OXFORDSHIRE. WHERE holy ground begins, unhallowed ends, Is marked by no distinguishable line; The turf unites, the pathways intertwine; And, wheresoe'er the stealing footstep tends, Garden, and that Domain where kindred,
friends, And neighbours rest together, here confound Their several features, mingled like the sound Of many waters, or as evening blends
1 Wallachia is the country alluded to.
With shady night. Soft airs, from shrub and
flower, Waft fragrant greetings to each silent grave; 10 And while those lofty poplars gently wave Their tops, between them comes and goes a sky Bright as the glimpses of eternity, To saints accorded in their mortal hour.
COMPOSED AMONG THE RUINS OF A CASTLE IN
NORTH WALES. THROUGH shattered galleries, ʼmid roofless halls, Wandering with timid footsteps oft betrayed, The Stranger sighs, nor scruples to upbraid Old Time, though he, gentlest among the
Thralls Of Destiny, upon these wounds hath laid 5 His lenient touches, soft as light that falls, From the wan Moon, upon the towers and walls, Light deepening the profoundest sleep of shade. Relic of Kings! Wreck of forgotten wars, To winds abandoned and the prying stars, 10 Time loves Thee! at his call the Seasons twine Luxuriant wreaths around thy forehead hoar; And, though past pomp no changes can restore, A soothing recompense, his gift, is thine!
1824. IX. TO THE LADY E. B. AND THE HON. MISS P. Composed in the Grounds of Plass Newidd, near
Llangollen, 1824. A STREAM, to mingle with your favourite Dee, Along the VALE OF MEDITATION 'flows;
1 Glyn Myrvr.
So styled by those fierce Britons, pleased to
see In Nature's face the expression of repose; Or haply there some pious hermit chose 5 To live and die, the peace of heaven his aim; To whom the wild sequestered region owes, At this late day, its sanctifying name. GLYN CAFAILLGAROCH, in the Cambrian
tongue, In ours, the VALE OF FRIENDSHIP, let this spot
10 Be named; where, faithful to a low-roofed Cot, On Deva's banks, ye have abode so long; Sisters in love, a love allowed to climb, Even on this earth, above the reach of Time!
TO THE TORRENT AT THE DEVIL'S BRIDGE, NORTH
How art thou named ? In search of what
strange land, From what huge height, descending ? Can such
force Of waters issue from a British source, Or hath not Pindus fed thee, where the band Of Patriots scoop their freedom out, with hand 5 Desperate as thine? Or come the incessant
shocks From that young Stream, that smites the throb
bing rocks, Of Viamala ? There I seem to stand, As in life's morn; permitted to behold, From the dread chasm, woods climbing above
woods, In pomp that fades not; everlasting snows;
And skies that ne'er relinquish their repose ;
say, A half-blown rose had tempted thee to sip Its glistening dews; but hallowed is the clay Which the Muse warms; and I, whose head is grey,
5 Am not unworthy of thy fellowship; Nor could I let one thought-one motion--slip That might thy sylvan confidence betray. For are we not all His without whose care Vouchsafed no sparrow falleth to the ground? 10 Who gives his Àngels wings to speed through
air, And rollsthe planets through the blue profound; Then peck or perch, fond Flutterer! nor forbear To trust a Poet in still musings bound.
XII. WHEN Philoctetes in the Lemnian isle Like a Form Sculptured on a monument Lay couched; on him or his dread bow unbent Some wild Bird oft might settle and beguile The rigid features of a transient smile, 5 Disperse the tear, or to the sigh give vent, Slackening the pains of ruthless banishment From his loved home, and from heroic toil. And trust that spiritual Creatures round us
Griefs to allay which Reason cannot heal; 10
WHILE Anna's peers and early playmates tread,
large, And friends too rarely prop the languid head. Yet, helped by Genius-untired comforter, The presence even of a stuffed Owl for her 10' Can cheat the time; sending her fancy out To ivied castles and to moonlight skies, Though he can neither stir a plume, nor shout; Nor veil, with restless film, his staring eyes.
TO THE CUCKOO. Not the whole warbling grove in concert heard When sunshine follows shower, the breast can
thrill Like the first summons, Cuckoo ! of thy bill, With its twin notes inseparably paired. The captive 'mid damp vaults unsunned,