220

The Story tells what courses were pursued,
Until king Elidure, with full consent
Of all his peers, before the multitude,
Rose,—and, to consummate this just intent,
Did place upon his brother's head the crown,
Relinquished by his own;

Then to his people cried, "Receive your lord,
Gorbonian's first-born son, your rightful king

restored!"

225

The people answered with a loud acclaim : Yet more ;-heart-smitten by the heroic deed, The reinstated Artegal became

Earth's noblest penitent; from bondage freed Of vice-thenceforth unable to subvert

Or shake his high desert.

230

Long did he reign; and, when he died, the tear Of universal grief bedewed his honoured bier.

Thus was a Brother by a Brother saved; 234
With whom a crown (temptation that hath set
Discord in hearts of men till they have braved
Their nearest kin with deadly purpose met)
'Gainst duty weighed, and faithful love, did

seem

A thing of no esteem;

240

And, from this triumph of affection pure,
He bore the lasting name of "pious Elidure!”

1815.

III.

TO A BUTTERFLY.

I'VE watched you now a full half-hour,
Self-poised upon that yellow flower;
And, little Butterfly! indeed

I know not if you sleep or feed.
How motionless!-not frozen seas
More motionless! and then

What joy awaits you, when the breeze
Hath found you out among the trees,
And calls you forth again!

This plot of orchard-ground is ours;
My trees they are, my Sister's flowers;
Here rest your wings when they are weary;
Here lodge as in a sanctuary!

Come often to us, fear no wrong;

Sit near us on the bough!

We'll talk of sunshine and of song,

And summer days, when we were young;
Sweet childish days, that were as long
As twenty days are now.

5

ΙΟ

15

April 20, 1802.

IV.

A FAREWELL.

FAREWELL, thou little Nook of mountainground,

Thou rocky corner in the lowest stair

Of that magnificent temple which doth bound One side of our whole vale with grandeur rare

5

Sweet garden-orchard, eminently fair,
The loveliest spot that man hath ever found,
Farewell!-we leave thee to Heaven's peaceful

care,

Thee, and the Cottage which thou dost surround.
Our boat is safely anchored by the shore,
And there will safely ride when we are gone; 10
The flowering shrubs that deck our humble door
Will prosper, though untended and alone:
Fields, goods, and far-off chattels we have none:
These narrow bounds contain our private store
Of things earth makes, and sun doth shine
upon;

Here are they in our sight--we have no more.

15

Sunshine and shower be with you, bud and bell! For two months now in vain we shall be sought; We leave you here in solitude to dwell

With these our latest gifts of tender thought; Thou, like the morning, in thy saffron coat, 21 Bright gowan, and marsh-marigold, farewell! Whom from the borders of the Lake we brought, And placed together near our rocky Well.

25

We go for One to whom ye will be dear;
And she will prize this Bower, this Indian shed,
Our own contrivance, Building without peer!
-A gentle Maid, whose heart is lowly bred,
Whose pleasures are in wild fields gathered,
With joyousness, and with a thoughtful cheer,
Will come to you; to you herself will wed; 31
And love the blessed life that we lead here.

Dear Spot! which we have watched with tender heed,

Bringing thee chosen plants and blossoms blown. Among the distant mountains, flower and weed,

Which thou hast taken to thee as thy own, 36 Making all kindness registered and known; Thou for our sakes, though Nature's child indeed,

Fair in thyself and beautiful alone,

Hast taken gifts which thou dost little need. 40

And O most constant, yet most fickle Place, That hast thy wayward moods, as thou dost show

To them who look not daily on thy face;
Who, being loved, in love no bounds dost know,
And say'st, when we forsake thee, "Let them
go!"

Thou easy-hearted Thing, with thy wild race
Of weeds and flowers, till we return be slow,
And travel with the year at a soft pace.

45

Help us to tell Her tales of years gone by,
And this sweet spring, the best beloved and best;
Joy will be flown in its mortality;

51

Something must stay to tell us of the rest. Here, thronged with primroses, the steep rock's breast

Glittered at evening like a starry sky;

And in this bush our sparrow built her nest, 55
Of which I sang one song that will not die.

O happy Garden! whose seclusion deep
Hath been so friendly to industrious hours;
And to soft slumbers, that did gently steep
Our spirits, carrying with them dreams of
flowers,

60

And wild notes warbled among leafy bowers; Two burning months let summer overleap, And, coming back with Her who will be ours, Into thy bosom we again shall creep.

May 29, 1802.

亦

STANZAS

WRITTEN IN MY POCKET-COPY OF THOMSON'S

CASTLE OF INDOLENCE.'

WITHIN Our happy Castle there dwelt One
Whom without blame I may not overlook;
For never sun on living creature shone
Who more devout enjoyment with us took:
Here on his hours he hung as on a book,
On his own time here would he float away,
As doth a fly upon a summer brook;
But go to-morrow, or belike to-day,

5

Seek for him, he is fled; and whither none can say.

; 11

Thus often would he leave our peaceful home,
And find elsewhere his business or delight;
Out of our Valley's limits did he roam :
Full many a time, upon a stormy night,
His voice came to us from the neighbouring

height:

Oft could we see him driving full in view
At mid-day when the sun was shining bright;
What ill was on him, what he had to do,
A mighty wonder bred among our quiet crew.

15

Ah! piteous sight it was to see this Man
When he came back to us, a withered flower,—
Or like a sinful creature, pale and wan.
Down would he sit; and without strength or

power

21

Look at the common grass from hour to hour :