Britain, who long her warriors had adored, And deemed all merit centred in the sword; Britain, who thought to stain the field was fame, Now honoured Edward's less than Bacon's name. Her sons no more in listed fields advance By generous Emulation taught to rise, The seats of learning brave the distant skies. Then noble Sandys, inspired with great design, Reared Hawkshead's happy roof, and called it mine. There have I loved to show the tender age The golden precepts of the classic page; To lead the mind to those Elysian plains Where, throned in gold, immortal Science reigns; Fair to the view is sacred Truth displayed, In all the majesty of light arrayed, To teach, on rapid wings, the curious soul To roam from heaven to heaven, from pole to pole, From thence to search the mystic cause of things And follow Nature to her secret springs; The glimmering fires of Virtue to enlarge, And purge from Vice's dross my tender charge. Oft have I said, the paths of Fame pursue, And all that Virtue dictates, dare to do; Go to the world, peruse the book of man, And learn from thence thy own defects to If Pleasure's soothing song thy soul entice, Or all the gaudy pomp of splendid Vice, Arise superior to the Siren's power, The wretch, the short-lived vision of an hour; Soon fades her cheek, her blushing beauties fly, As fades the chequered bow that paints the sky, So shall thy sire, whilst hope his breast inspires, And wakes anew life's glimmering trembling fires, Hear Britain's sons rehearse thy praise with joy, Look up to heaven, and bless his darling boy. If e'er these precepts quelled the passions' strife, If e'er they smoothed the rugged walks of life, If e'er they pointed forth the blissful way lyre, Let this bright morn and Sandys the song inspire.' "I looked obedience: the celestial Fair Smiled like the morn, and vanished into air." 1785. EXTRACT FROM THE CONCLUSION OF A POEM, COMPOSED IN ANTICIPATION OF LEAVING SCHOOL Written at Hawkshead. The beautiful image with which this poem concludes, suggested itself to me while I was resting in a boat along with my companions under the shade of a magnificent row of sycamores, which then extended their branches from the shore of the promontory upon which stands the ancient, and at that time the more picturesque, Hall of Coniston, the seat of the Le Flemings from very early times. The poem of which it was the conclusion was of many hundred lines, and contained thoughts and images most of which have been dispersed through my other writings. DEAR native regions, I foretell, That, wheresoe'er my steps may tend, My soul will cast the backward view, Thus, while the Sun sinks down to rest 1786. WRITTEN IN VERY EARLY YOUTH CALM is all nature as a resting wheel. Dark is the ground; a slumber seems to steal O'er vale, and mountain, and the starless sky. Now, in this blank of things, a harmony, Home-felt, and home-created, comes to heal That grief for which the senses still supply Fresh food; for only then, when memory Is hushed, am I at rest. My Friends! restrain crossing the Pass of Dunmail Raise. Upon second thought, I will mention another image: And, fronting the bright west, yon oak entwines Its darkening boughs and leaves, in stronger lines." This is feebly and imperfectly expressed, but I recollect distinctly the very spot where this first struck me. It was in the way between Hawkshead and Ambleside, and gave me extreme pleasure. The moment was important in my poetical history; for I date from it my consciousness of the infinite variety of natural appearances which had been unnoticed by the poets of any age or country, so far as I was acquainted with them; and I made a resolution to supply, in some degree, the deficiency. I could not have been at that time above fourteen years of age. The description of the swans, that follows, was taken from the daily opportunities I had of observing their habits, not as confined to the gentleman's park, but in a state of nature. There were two pairs of them that divided the lake of Esthwaite and its in-andout-flowing streams between them, never trespassing a single yard upon each other's separate domain. They were of the old magnificent species, bearing in beauty and majesty about the same relation to the Thames swan which that does to the goose. It was from the remembrance of those noble creatures I took, thirty years after, the picture of the swan which I have discarded from the poem of Dion. While I was a schoolboy, the late Mr. Curwen introduced a little fleet of those birds, but of the inferior species, to the lake of Windermere. Their principal home was about his own island; but they sailed about into remote parts of the lake, and, either from real or imagined injury done to the adjoining fields, they were got rid of at the request of the farmers and Those busy cares that would allay my pain; again. AN EVENING WALK 1786? ADDRESSED TO A YOUNG LADY The young Lady to whom this was addressed was my Sister. It was composed at school, and during my two first College vacations. There is not an image in it which I have not observed; and now, in my seventy-third year, I recollect the time and place where most of them were noticed. I will confine myself to one instance: "Waving his hat, the shepherd, from the vale, Directs his winding dog the cliffs to scale,The dog, loud barking, 'mid the glittering rocks, Hunts, where his master points, the intercepted flocks." I was an eye-witness of this for the first time while become attached to them, from noticing their beauty and quiet habits. I will conclude my notice of this poem by observing that the plan of it has not been confined to a particular walk or an individual place,-a proof (of which I was unconscious at the time) of my unwillingness to submit the poetic spirit to the chains of fact and real circumstance. The country is idealised rather than described in any one of its local aspects. General Sketch of the Lakes-Author's regret of his youth which was passed amongst them-Short description of Noon-Cascade-Noontide Retreat-Precipice and sloping Lights-Face of Nature as the Sun declines-Mountain-farm, and the Cock-Slate-quarry-Sunset-Superstition of the Country connected with that moment-Swans Female Beggar-Twilight-sounds-Western Lights-Spirits-Night- Moonlight - HopeNight-sounds-Conclusion. FAR from my dearest Friend, 'tis mine to rove Through bare grey dell, high wood, and pastoral cove; Where Derwent rests, and listens to the roar Lodore; Yet still, the sport of some malignant power, He knows but from its shade the present hour. But why, ungrateful, dwell on idle pain? To show what pleasures yet to me remain, That stuns the tremulous cliffs of high Say, will my Friend, with unreluctant ear, The history of a poet's evening hear? When, in the south, the wan noon, brooding still, Where peace to Grasmere's lonely island leads, To willowy hedge-rows, and to emerald meads; Leads to her bridge, rude church, and cottaged grounds, Breathed a pale steam around the glaring hill, And shades of deep-embattled clouds were seen, Her rocky sheepwalks, and her woodland Spotting the northern cliffs with lights bebounds; Where, undisturbed by winds, Winander1 sleeps tween ; When crowding cattle, checked by rails that make 'Mid clustering isles, and holly-sprinkled A fence far stretched into the shallow lake, Lashed the cool water with their restless tails, steeps; Where twilight glens endear my Esthwaite's shore, And memory of departed pleasures, more. Fair scenes, erewhile, I taught, a happy child, The echoes of your rocks my carols wild : The spirit sought not then, in cherished sadness, A cloudy substitute for failing gladness. In youth's keen eye the livelong day was bright, The sun at morning, and the stars at night, Alike, when first the bittern's hollow bill Was heard, or woodcocks 2 roamed the moonlight hill. In thoughtless gaiety I coursed the plain, And hope itself was all I knew of pain; For then, the inexperienced heart would beat At times, while young Content forsook her seat, And wild Impatience, pointing upward, showed, Through passes yet unreached, a brighter road. Alas! the idle tale of man is found Or from high points of rock looked out for fanning gales : When school-boys stretched their length upon the green; And round the broad-spread oak, a glim mering scene, In the rough fern-clad park, the herded deer Shook the still-twinkling tail and glancing ear; When horses in the sunburnt intake stood, And vainly eyed below the tempting flood, Or tracked the passenger, in mute distress, With forward neck the closing gate to press Then, while I wandered where the huddling rill Brightens with water-breaks the hollow ghyll 4 As by enchantment, an obscure retreat Opened at once, and stayed my devious feet. While thick above the rill the branches close, In rocky basin its wild waves repose, Inverted shrubs, and moss of gloomy green, Hope with reflection blends her social rays Cling from the rocks, with pale wood-weeds To gild the total tablet of his days; 1 These lines are only applicable to the middle part of that lake. 2 In the beginning of winter, these mountains are frequented by woodcocks, which in dark nights retire into the woods. between ; 3 The word intake is local, and signifies a mountain-inclosure. 4 Ghyll is also, I believe, a term confined to this country: ghyll, and dingle, have the same meaning. And its own twilight softens the whole Slant watery lights, from parting clouds, scene, Save where aloft the subtle sunbeams shine On withered briars that o'er the crags re cline; Save where, with sparkling foam, a small cascade Illumines, from within, the leafy shade; Beyond, along the vista of the brook, Where antique roots its bustling course o'erlook, The eye reposes on a secret bridge1 Half grey, half shagged with ivy to its ridge; apace Travel along the precipice's base; Cheering its naked waste of scattered stone, By lichens grey, and scanty moss, o'ergrown; Where scarce the foxglove peeps, or thistle's beard; And restless stone-chat, all day long, is heard. How pleasant, as the sun declines, to view The spacious landscape change in form and hue! There, bending o'er the stream, the listless Here, vanish, as in mist, before a flood swain Lingers behind his disappearing wain. -Did Sabine grace adorn my living line, Blandusia's praise, wild stream, should yield to thine! Never shall ruthless minister of death 'Mid thy soft glooms the glittering steel unsheath; No goblets shall, for thee, be crowned with flowers, No kid with piteous outcry thrill thy bowers; The mystic shapes that by thy margin rove A more benignant sacrifice approve― Much done, and much designed, and more desired, Harmonious thoughts, a soul by truth refined, Entire affection for all human kind. Dear Brook, farewell! To-morrow's noon again Shall hide me, wooing long thy wildwood strain; But now the sun has gained his western road, And eve's mild hour invites my steps abroad. While, near the midway cliff, the silvered kite In many a whistling circle wheels her flight; 1 The reader who has made the tour of this country, will recognise, in this description, the features which characterise the lower waterfall in the grounds of Rydal. Of bright obscurity, hill, lawn, and wood; There, objects, by the searching beams betrayed, Come forth, and here retire in purple shade; Even the white stems of birch, the cottage white, Soften their glare before the mellow light; The skiffs, at anchor where with umbrage wide Yon chestnuts half the latticed boat-house hide, Shed from their sides, that face the sun's slant beam, Strong flakes of radiance on the tremulous stream: Raised by yon travelling flock, a dusty cloud Mounts from the road, and spreads its moving shroud; The shepherd, all involved in wreaths of fire, Now shows a shadowy speck, and now is lost entire. Into a gradual calm the breezes sink, A blue rim borders all the lake's still brink; There doth the twinkling aspen's foliage sleep, And insects clothe, like dust, the glassy deep: And now, on every side, the surface breaks Into blue spots, and slowly lengthening streaks; Here, plots of sparkling water tremble bright With thousand thousand twinkling points of light; There, waves that, hardly weltering, die away, Tip their smooth ridges with a softer ray; And now the whole wide lake in deep repose Is hushed, and like a burnished mirror glows, Where, mixed with graceful birch, the sombrous pine And yew-tree o'er the silver rocks recline; I love to mark the quarry's moving trains, Dwarf panniered steeds, and men, and numerous wains; How busy all the enormous hive within, While Echo dallies with its various din ! Some (hear you not their chisels' clinking sound?) Toil, small as pigmies in the gulf profound; Some, dim between the lofty cliffs descried, O'erwalk the slender plank from side to side; These, by the pale-blue rocks that ceaseless ring, In airy baskets hanging, work and sing. Just where a cloud above the mountain |