To you accorded, never be withdrawn,
Nor for the world's best promises renounced.
Most soothing was it for a welcome Friend,
Fresh from the crowded city, to behold
That lonely union, privacy so deep,
Such calm employments, such entire content.
So when the rain is over, the storm laid,
A pair of herons oft-times have I seen,
Upon a rocky islet, side by side,

Drying their feathers in the sun, at ease; And so, when night with grateful gloom had fallen,

Two glow-worms in such nearness that they

shared,

As seemed, their soft self-satisfying light, Each with the other, on the dewy ground, Where He that made them blesses their repose.

When wandering among lakes and hills I note,

Once more, those creatures thus by nature paired,

And guarded in their tranquil state of life, Even, as your happy presence to my mind Their union brought, will they repay the

debt,

And send a thankful spirit back to you, With hope that we, dear Friends! shall meet again. 1842.

AIREY-FORCE VALLEY

-NOT a breath of air
Ruffles the bosom of this leafy glen.
From the brook's margin, wide around, the
trees

Are stedfast as the rocks; the brook itself,
Old as the hills that feed it from afar,
Doth rather deepen than disturb the calm
Where all things else are still and motionless.
And yet, even now, a little breeze, perchance
Escaped from boisterous winds that rage
without,

Has entered, by the sturdy oaks unfelt,
But to its gentle touch how sensitive

Is the light ash! that, pendent from the brow

Of yon dim cave, in seeming silence makes A soft eye-music of slow-waving boughs, Powerful almost as vocal harmony To stay the wanderer's steps and soothe his thoughts. 1842.

"LYRE! THOUGH SUCH POWER DO IN THY MAGIC LIVE"

LYRE! though such power do in thy magic live

As might from India's farthest plain
Recall the not unwilling Maid,

Assist me to detain

The lovely Fugitive:

Check with thy notes the impulse which, betrayed

By her sweet farewell looks, I longed to aid.

Here let me gaze enrapt upon that eye,
The impregnable and awe-inspiring fort
Of contemplation, the calm port

By reason fenced from winds that sigh
Among the restless sails of vanity.

But if no wish be hers that we should part,

A humbler bliss would satisfy my heart.
Where all things are so fair,
Enough by her dear side to breathe the air
Of this Elysian weather;
And, on or in, or near, the brook, espy
Shade upon the sunshine lying

Faint and somewhat pensively;
And downward Image gaily vying
With its upright living tree
'Mid silver clouds, and openings of blue

sky

TO THE CLOUDS

These verses were suggested while I was walking on the foot-road between Rydal Mount and Grasmere. The clouds were driving over the top of Nab-Scar across the vale: they set my thoughts agoing, and the rest followed almost immediately.

ARMY of Clouds! ye winged Hosts in troops

Ascending from behind the motionless brow
Of that tall rock, as from a hidden world,
Oh whither with such eagerness of speed?
What seek ye, or what shun ye? of the
gale

Companions, fear ye to be left behind,
Or racing o'er your blue ethereal field
Contend ye with each other? of the sea
Children, thus post ye over vale and height
To sink upon your's mother's lap--and rest?
Or were ye rightlier hailed, when first mine

eyes

Beheld in your impetuous march the like

ness

Of a wide army pressing on to meet
Or overtake some unknown enemy?—
But your smooth motions suit a peaceful

aim;

And Fancy, not less aptly pleased, compares
Your squadrons to an endless flight of birds
Aerial, upon due migration bound

To milder climes; or rather do ye urge
In caravan your hasty pilgrimage
To pause at last on more aspiring heights
Than these, and utter your devotion there
With thunderous voice? Or are ye jubilant,
And would ye, tracking your proud lord
the Sun,

Be present at his setting; or the pomp
Of Persian mornings would ye fill, and
stand

Poising your splendours high above the

heads

Of worshippers kneeling to their up-risen God?

Whence, whence, ye Clouds! this eagerness of speed?

Speak, silent creatures.-They are gone, are fled,

Buried together in yon gloomy mass

That loads the middle heaven; and clear and bright

And vacant doth the region which they thronged

Appear; a calm descent of sky conducting
Down to the unapproachable abyss,
Down to that hidden gulf from which they

rose

To vanish-fleet as days and months and years,

Fleet as the generations of mankind,
Power, glory, empire, as the world itself,
The lingering world, when time hath ceased
to be.

But the winds roar, shaking the rooted trees,

And see! a bright precursor to a train
Perchance as numerous, overpeers the rock
That sullenly refuses to partake
Of the wild impulse.

From a fount of life Invisible, the long procession moves Luminous or gloomy, welcome to the vale Which they are entering, welcome to mine

eye

That sees them, to my soul that owns in them,

And in the bosom of the firmament

O'er which they move, wherein they are contained,

A type of her capacious self and all
Her restless progeny.

A humble walk

Here is my body doomed to tread, this

path,

A little hoary line and faintly traced,
Work, shall we call it, of the shepherd's

foot

Or of his flock?-joint vestige of them both.

I pace it unrepining, for my thoughts Admit no bondage and my words have wings.

Where is the Orphean lyre, or Druid harp, To accompany the verse? The mountain

blast

Shall be our hand of music; he shall sweep The rocks, and quivering trees, and billowy

lake,

And search the fibres of the caves, and they Shall answer, for our song is of the Clouds And the wind loves them; and the gentle

gales

Which by their aid re-clothe the naked lawn

With annual verdure, and revive the woods, And moisten the parched lips of thirsty

flowers

Love them; and every idle breeze of air

Bends to the favourite burthen. Moon and stars

Keep their most solemn vigils when the Clouds

Watch also, shifting peaceably their place Like bands of ministering Spirits, or when they lie,

As if some Protean art the change had wrought,

In listless quiet o'er the ethereal deep Scattered, a Cyclades of various shapes And all degrees of beauty. O ye Lightnings!

Ye are their perilous offspring; and the Sun

Source inexhaustible of life and joy, And type of man's far-darting reason, therefore

In old time worshipped as the god of verse, A blazing intellectual deity

Loves his own glory in their looks, and showers

Upon that unsubstantial brotherhood
Visions with all but beatific light
Enriched-too transient were they not
renewed

From age to age, and did not, while we gaze

In silent rapture, credulous desire Nourish the hope that memory lacks not power

To keep the treasure unimpaired. Vain thought!

Yet why repine, created as we are
For joy and rest, albeit to find them only
Lodged in the bosom of eternal things?

1842.

"WANSFELL! THIS HOUSEHOLD HAS A FAVOURED LOT" 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

Hath sounded (shame upon the Bard !) thy praise

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

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,
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.

THE EAGLE AND THE DOVE

SHADE of Caractacus, if spirits love
The cause they fought for in their earthly
home

To see the Eagle ruffled by the Dove
May soothe thy memory of the chains of
Rome.

These children claim thee for their sire; the breath

Of thy renown, from Cambrian mountains, fans

A flame within them that despises death And glorifies the truant youth of Vannes.

With thy own scorn of tyrants they advance,
But truth divine has sanctified their rage,
A silver cross enchased with flowers of
France

Their badge, attests the holy fight they

wage.

The shrill defiance of the young crusade Their veteran foes mock as an idle noise; But unto Faith and Loyalty comes aid From Heaven, gigantic force to beardless boys. 1842.

GRACE DARLING

AMONG the dwellers in the silent fields The natural heart is touched, and public way

And crowded street resound with ballad strains,

Inspired by ONE whose very name bespeaks Favour divine, exalting human love;

Whom, since her birth on bleak Northumbria's coast,

Known unto few but prized as far as known,

A single Act endears to high and low Through the whole land-to Manhood,

moved in spite

Of the world's freezing cares-to generous Youth

To Infancy, that lisps her praise-to Age Whose eye reflects it, glistening through a

tear

Of tremulous admiration. Such true fame Awaits her now; but, verily, good deeds Do not imperishable record find

Save in the rolls of heaven, where hers may live

A theme for angels, when they celebrate The high-souled virtues which forgetful earth

Has witnessed. Oh! that winds and waves could speak

Of things which their united power called forth

From the pure depths of her humanity!
A Maiden gentle, yet, at duty's call,
Firm and unflinching, as the Lighthouse
reared

On the Island-rock, her lonely dwelling

place;

Or like the invincible Rock itself that braves,

Age after age, the hostile elements,
As when it guarded holy Cuthbert's cell.
All night the storm had raged, nor
ceased, nor paused,

When, as day broke, the Maid, through misty air,

Espies far off a Wreck, amid the surf, Beating on one of those disastrous islesHalf of a Vessel, half-no more; the rest Had vanished, swallowed up with all that there

Had for the common safety striven in vain, Or thither thronged for refuge. With quick glance

Daughter and Sire through optic-glass discern,

Clinging about the remnant of this Ship, Creatures-how precious in the Maiden's sight!

For whom, belike, the old Man grieves still more

Than for their fellow-sufferers engulfed
Where every parting agony is hushed,
And hope and fear mix not in further strife.

"But courage, Father! let us out to seaA few may yet be saved." The Daughter's words,

Her earnest tone, and look beaming with faith,

Dispel the Father's doubts: nor do they lack

The noble-minded Mother's helping hand To launch the boat; and with her blessing cheered,

And inwardly sustained by silent prayer, Together they put forth, Father and Child! Each grasps an oar, and struggling on they go

Rivals in effort; and, alike intent Here to elude and there surmount, they watch

The billows lengthening, mutually crossed And shattered, and re-gathering their might;

As if the tumult, by the Almighty's will Were, in the conscious sea, roused and prolonged

That woman's fortitude-so tried, SO proved

May brighten more and more!

True to the mark, They stem the current of that perilous

That no one breathing should be left to

perish,

This last remainder of the crew are all Placed in the little boat, then o'er the deep Are safely borne, landed upon the beach, And, in fulfilment of God's mercy, lodged Within the sheltering Lighthouse.—Shout, ye Waves

Send forth a song of triumph. Waves and Winds,

Exult in this deliverance wrought through faith

In Him whose Providence your rage hath served!

Ye screaming Sea-mews, in the concert join!

And would that some immortal Voice-a Voice

Fitly attuned to all that gratitude Breathes out from floor or couch, through pallid lips

Of the survivors · -to the clouds might bear--

Blended with praise of that parental love, Beneath whose watchful eye the Maiden grew

Pious and pure, modest and yet so brave, Though young so wise, though meek so resolute

Might carry to the clouds and to the stars, Yea, to celestial Choirs, GRACE DARLING'S name ! 1843.

ENLIGHTENED Teacher, gladly from thy hand

Have I received this proof of pains bestowed By Thee to guide thy Pupils on the road That, in our native isle, and every land, The Church, when trusting in divine command

And in her Catholic attributes, hath trod: O 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;

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

Adding immortal labours of his own-Whether he traced historic truth, with zeal For the State's guidance, or the Church's weal,