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Glide gently, thus for ever glide,
that never child of Song
* Collins's Ode on the death of Thomson, the last written, I believe, of the poems which were published during his life time, i This Ode is also alluded to in the next stanza. V
“ WHY William, on that old grey stone, “ Thus for the length of half a day, “Why William, sit you thus alone, " And dream your time away?
“Where are your books that light bequeath'd “ To beings else forlorn and blind! “ Up! Up! and drink the spirit breath'd “ From dead men to their kind.
“ You look round on your mother earth, 64 As if she for on purpose
you; “ As if you were her first-born birth, " And none had lived before you!"
One morning, thus, by Esthwaite lake, When life was sweet, I knew not why, To me my good friend Matthew spake; And thus I made reply.
“ The eye it cannot chuse but see;
Against, or with our will.
66 Nor less I deem that there are powers, " Which of themselves our minds impress, " That we can feed this mind of ours, “ In a wise passiveness.
“ Think you, mid all this mighty sum
" -Then ask not wherefore, here, alone, “ Conversing as I may, 66 I sit upon
this old grey stone, " And dream my time away."
THE TABLES TURNED;
An Evening Scene on the same Subject.
UP! Up! my friend, and clear
friend, and clear your looks, Why all this toil and trouble? Up! Up! my friend, and quit your books Or surely you'll grow double.
The sun above the mountain's head,
Books! ’tis a dull and endless strife,
life There's more of wisdom in it.
And hark! how blithe the throstle sings!
She has a world of ready wealth,
One impulse from a vernal wood
Sweet is the love which Nature brings;
Enough of science and of art;