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His garb is humble; ne'er was seen, Such garb with such a noble mien ; Among the shepherd grooms no mate Hath he, a child of strength and state ! Yet lacks not friends for solemn glee, And a cheerful company, That learned of him submissive ways, And comforted his private days. To his side the fallow deer Came, and rested without fear; The eagle, lord of land and sea, Stooped down to pay him fealty ; And both the undying fish that swim Through Bowscale Tarn did wait on him, The pair were servants of his eye In their immortality ; They moved about in open sight, To and fro, for his delight. He knew the rocks which angels haunt On the mountains visitant ; He hath kenned them taking wing : And the caves where fairies sing He hath entered, and been told By voices how men lived of old. Among the heavens his eye can see Face of thing that is to be ; And, if men report him right, He can whisper words of might.Now another day is come, Fitter hope, and nobler doom : He hath thrown aside his crook, And hath buried deep his book ;
Armour rusting in his halls
On the blood of Clifford calls :-
Quell the Scot l'exclaims the lance-
• Bear me to the heart of France'
Is the longing of the shield-
Tell thy name, thou trembling field ;
Field of death, where'er thou be,
Groan thou with our victory !
Happy day, and mighty hour,
When our shepherd, in his power,
Mail'd and horsed, with lance and sword,
To his ancestors restored
Like a reappearing star,
Like a glory from afar,
First shall head the flock of war !"
Alas ! the fervent harper did not know
That for a tranquill soul the lay was framed,
Who, long compelled in humble walks to go,
Was softened into feeling, soothed and tamed.
Love had he found in huts where poor men lie,
His daily teachers had been woods and rills,
The silence that is in the starry sky,
The sleep that is among the lonely hills.
In him the savage virtue of the race,
Revenge, and all ferocious thoughts were dead :
Nor did he change ; but kept in lofty place
The wisdom which adversity had bred.
Glad were the vales, and every cottage hearth ;
The shepherd lord was honoured more and more ;
And, ages after he was laid in earth,
“The good Lord Clifford ” was the name he bore.
YES ! full surely 'twas the echo,
Solitary, clear, profound,
Answering to thee, shouting cuckoo !
Giving to thee sound for sound.
To a babbling wanderer sent ;
Like her ordinary cry,
Like-but, oh, how different !
Hears not also mortal life?
Hear not we, unthinking creatures ?
Slaves of folly, love, or strife,
Voices of two different natures ?
Have not we too?-Yes we have Answers, and we know not whence ; Echoes from beyond the grave, Recognised intelligence !
Such within ourselves we hear
Ofttimes, ours though sent from far ;
Listen, ponder, hold them dear ;
For of God,--of God they are !
AS IT APPEARED TO ENTHUSIASTS AT ITS COMMENCEMENT.
OH, pleasant exercise of hope and joy!
For mighty were the auxiliars which then stood
Upon our side, we who were strong in love !
Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive,
But to be young was very heaven !-Oh! times
In which the meagre, stale, forbidding ways
Of custom, law, and statute, took at once
The attraction of a country in romance !
When reason seemed the most to assert her rights,
When most intent on making of herself
A prime enchantress—to assist the work,
Which was then going forward in her name !
Not favoured spots alone, but the whole earth,
The beauty wore of promise—that which sets
(As at some moment might not be unfelt
Among the bowers of paradise itself)
The budding rose above the rose full blown.
What temper at the prospect did not wake
To happiness unthought of? The inert
Were roused, and lively natures rapt away!
They who had fed their childhood upon dreams,
The playfellows of fancy, who had made
All powers of swiftness, subtilty and strength
Their ministers,—who in lordly wise had stirred
Among the grandest objects of the sense,
And dealt with whatsoever they found there