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And in her Catholic attributes, hath trod: 0 may these lessons be with profit scanned To thy heart's wish, thy labour blest by God! So the bright faces of the young and gay Shall look more bright—the happy, happier still; 10

Catch, in the pauses of their keenest play, Motions of thought which elevate the will And, like the Spire that from your classic Hill Points heavenward, indicate the end and way. Kydal Mount, Dec. 11, 1843.

XLI.

TO THE PLANET VENUS.

Upon its approximation (as an Evening Star) to the Earth, Jan., 1838.

What strong allurement draws, what spirit

guides, Thee, Vesper! brightening still, as if the nearer Thou com'st to man's abode the spot grew dearer Night after night? True is it Nature hides Her treasures less and less.—Man now presides In power, where once he trembled in his weakness; 6

Science advances with gigantic strides;
But are we aught enriched in love and meek-
ness?
Aught dost thou see, bright Star! of pure and

wise More than in humbler times graced human story; io

That makes our hearts more apt to sympathize With heaven, our souls more fit for future glory, When earth shall vanish from our closing eyes, Ere we lie down in our last dormitory?

XLII.

Wansfell!' this Household has a favoured

lot, Living with liberty on thee to gaze, To watch while Morn first crowns thee with her

rays, Or when along thy breast serenely float Evening's angelic clouds. Yet ne'er a note 5 Hath sounded (shame upon the Bard!) thy

praise For all that thou, as if from heaven, hast

brought
Of glory lavished on our quiet days.
Bountiful Son of Earth! when we are gone
From every object dear to mortal sight, 10

As soon we shall be, may these words attest
How oft, to elevate our spirits, shone
Thy visionary majesties of light,
How in thy pensive glooms our hearts found

rest.

Dec. 24, 1842.

XLIII.

While beams of orient light shoot wide and

high, Deep in the vale a little rural Town2 Breathes forth a cloud-like creature of its own, That mounts not toward the radiant morning

sky, But, with a less ambitious sympathy, 5

Hangs o'er its Parent waking to the cares
Troubles and toils that every day prepares.
So Fancy, to the musing Poet's eye,

1 The Hill that rises to the south-east, above Ambleside.

2 Ambleside.

Endears that Lingerer. And how blest her

sway, (Like influence never may my soul reject), 10 If the calm Heaven, now to its zenith decked With glorious forms in numberless array, To the lone shepherd on the hills disclose Gleams from a world in which the saints repose.

Jan. 1, 1843.

Xliv.

In my mind's eye a Temple, like a cloud
Slowly surmounting some invidious hill,
Rose out of darkness: the bright Work stood

still;
And might of its own beauty have been proud,
But it was fashioned and to God was vowed 5
By Virtues that diffused, in every part,
Spirit divine through forms of human art:
Faith had her arch—her arch, when winds blow

loud, Into the consciousness of safety thrilled; And Love her towers of dread foundation laid 10 Under the grave of things; Hope had her spire Star-high, and pointing still to something

higher; Trembling I gazed, but heard a voice—it said, "Hell-gates are powerless Phantoms when we

build."

1827. (?)

XLV.

ON THE PROJECTED KENDAL AND WINDERMERE RAILWAY.

Is then no nook of English ground secure From rash assault?1 Schemes of retirement sown 1 The degree and kind of attachment which many In youth, and mid the busy world kept pure As when their earliest flowers of hope were

blown, Must perish;—how can they this blight endure? And must he too the ruthless change bemoan 6 Who scorns a false utilitarian lure Mid his paternal fields at random thrown? Baffle the threat, bright Scene, from Orrest-head Given to the pausing traveller's rapturous

glance: 10

Plead for thy peace, thou beautiful romance
Of nature; and, if human hearts be dead,
Speak, passing winds; ye torrents, with your

strong And constant voice, protest against the wrong.

October 12, 1844.

XLVI.

Pboud were ye, Mountains, when, in times of

old, Tour patriot sons, to stem invasive war, Intrenched your brows; ye gloried in each scar: Now, for your shame, a Power, the Thirst of

Gold, That rules o'er Britain like a baneful star, 5 Wills that your peace, your beauty, shall be

sold,

of the yeomanry feel to their small inheritances can scarcely be over-rated. Near the house of one of them stands a magnificent tree, which a neighbour of the owner advised him to fell for profit's sake. "Fell it!" exclaimed the veoman, "I had rather fall on my knees and worship it." It happens, I believe, that the intended railway would pass through this little property, and I hope that an apology for the answer will not be thought necessary by one who enters into the strength of the feeling.

And clear way made for her triumphal car Through the beloved retreats your arms enfold! Heard Ye that Whistle? As her long-linked

Train Swept onwards, did the vision cross your

view? io

Yes, ye were startled;—and, in balance true, Weighing the mischief with the promised gain, Mountains, and Vales, and Floods, I call on

you To share the passion "of a just disdain.

1844.

XLVII.

AT FURNESS ABBEY.

Here, where, of havoc tired and rash undoing,

Man left this Structure to become Time's prey,

A soothing spirit follows in the way

That Nature takes, her counter-work pursuing.

See how her ivy clasps the sacred Euin, 5

Fall to prevent or beautify decay;

And, on the mouldered walls, how bright, how

gay,

The flowers in pearly dews their bloom re-
newing!
Thanks to the place, blessings upon the hour;
Even as I speak the rising Sun's first smile 10
Gleams on the grass-crowned top of yon tall

Tower,
Whose cawing occupants with joy proclaim
Prescriptive title to the shattered pile,
Where, Cavendish, thine seems nothing but a
name!

1845. (?)

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