Child of the CHILD of the clouds! remote from Clouds Of sordid industry thy lot is cast;
Thine are the honours of the lofty waste; Not seldom, when with heat the valleys faint, Thy handmaid Frost with spangled tissue quaint Thy cradle decks;—to chant thy birth, thou hast No meaner Poet than the whistling Blast, And Desolation is thy Patron-saint!
She guards thee, ruthless Power! who would not
Those mighty forests, once the bison's screen, Where stalked the huge deer to his shaggy lair Through paths and alleys roofed with darkest green; Thousands of years before the silent air
Was pierced by whizzing shaft of hunter keen!
How shall I How shall I paint thee?-Be this naked stone paint thee? My seat, while I give way to such intent;
Pleased could my verse, a speaking monument, Make to the eyes of men thy features known. But as of all those tripping lambs not one Outruns his fellows, so hath Nature lent To thy beginning nought that doth present Peculiar ground for hope to build upon. To dignify the spot that gives thee birth, No sign of hoar Antiquity's esteem Appears, and none of modern Fortune's care; Yet thou thyself hast round thee shed a gleam Of brilliant moss, instinct with freshness rare; Prompt offering to thy Foster-mother, Earth!
TAKE, cradled Nursling of the mountain, take This parting glance, no negligent adieu ! A Protean change seems wrought while I The curves, a loosely-scattered chain doth make; Or rather thou appear'st a glistering snake, Silent, and to the gazer's eye untrue, Thridding with sinuous lapse the rushes, through Dwarf willows gliding, and by ferny brake. Starts from a dizzy steep the undaunted Rill Robed instantly in garb of snow-white foam; And laughing dares the Adventurer, who hath clomb
So high, a rival purpose to fulfil;
Else let the dastard backward wend, and roam, Seeking less bold achievement, where he will!
SOLE listener, Duddon! to the breeze that played With thy clear voice, I caught the fitful sound Wafted o'er sullen moss and craggy mound— Unfruitful solitudes, that seemed to upbraid The sun in heaven !-but now, to form a shade For Thee, green alders have together wound Their foliage; ashes flung their arms around; And birch-trees risen in silver colonnade. And thou hast also tempted here to rise, 'Mid sheltering pines, this Cottage rude and grey; Whose ruddy children, by the mother's eyes Carelessly watched, sport through the summer day, Thy pleased associates:-light as endless May On infant bosoms lonely Nature lies.
Cradled Nursling of the mountain
Thou leavest the solitary places
Flowers ERE yet our course was graced with social trees
It lacked not old remains of hawthorn bowers, Where small birds warbled to their paramours; And, earlier still, was heard the hum of bees; I saw them ply their harmless robberies, And caught the fragrance which the sundry flowers, Fed by the stream with soft perpetual showers, Plenteously yielded to the vagrant breeze. There bloomed the strawberry of the wilderness; The trembling eyebright showed her sapphire blue, The thyme her purple, like the blush of Even; And if the breath of some to no caress Invited, forth they peeped so fair to view, All kinds alike seemed favourites of Heaven.
The calmer "CHANGE me, some God, into that breathing rose!" mind The love-sick Stripling fancifully sighs, The envied flower beholding, as it lies On Laura's breast, in exquisite repose; Or he would pass into her bird, that throws The darts of song from out its wiry cage; Enraptured, could he for himself engage The thousandth part of what the Nymph bestows; And what the little careless innocent Ungraciously receives. Too daring choice! There are whose calmer mind it would content To be an unculled floweret of the glen,
Fearless of plough and scythe; or darkling wren That tunes on Duddon's banks her slender voice.
WHAT aspect bore the Man who roved or fled, Primeval First of his tribe, to this dark dell-who first
In this pellucid Current slaked his thirst?
What hopes came with him? what designs were spread
Along his path? His unprotected bed
What dreams encompassed? Was the intrudernursed In hideous usages, and rites accursed,
That thinned the living and disturbed the dead? No voice replies;—both air and earth are mute; And Thou, blue Streamlet, murmuring yield'st
Than a soft record, that, whatever fruit
Of ignorance thou might'st witness heretofore, Thy function was to heal and to restore,
To soothe and cleanse, not madden and pollute!
THE struggling Rill insensibly is grown Into a Brook of loud and stately march, Crossed ever and anon by plank or arch; And, for like use, lo! what might seem a zone Chosen for ornament- -stone matched with stone In studied symmetry, with interspace
For the clear waters to pursue their race Without restraint. How swiftly have they flown, Succeeding-still succeeding! Here the Child Puts, when the high-swoln Flood runs fierce and wild,
His budding courage to the proof; and here Declining Manhood learns to note the sly And sure encroachments of infirmity, Thinking how fast time runs, life's end how near!
Love at the NOT so that Pair whose youthful spirits dance Stepping With prompt emotion, urging them to pass; Stones A sweet confusion checks the Shepherd-lass; Blushing she eyes the dizzy flood askance ; To stop ashamed-too timid to advance ; She ventures once again-another pause! His outstretched hand He tauntingly withdraws She sues for help with piteous utterance ! Chidden she chides again; the thrilling touch Both feel, when he renews the wished-for aid: Ah! if their fluttering hearts should stir too much, Should beat too strongly, both may be betrayed. The frolic Loves, who, from yon high rock, see The struggle, clap their wings for victory!
The Faery No fiction was it of the antique age: Chasm A sky-blue stone, within this sunless cleft, Is of the very foot-marks unbereft
Which tiny Elves impressed;-on that smooth stage Dancing with all their brilliant equipage In secret revels-haply after theft
Of some sweet Babe-Flower stolen, and coarse Weed left
For the distracted Mother to assuage
Her grief with, as she might !-But, where, oh! where
Is traceable a vestige of the notes
That ruled those dances wild in character ?— Deep underground? Or in the upper air, On the shrill wind of midnight? or where floats O'er twilight fields the autumnal gossamer?
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