Beside that hearth what sighs may have been heaved Of Heaven in pity visiting the place. I leave unsearched: enough that memory clings, More could my pen report of grave or gay That through our gypsy travel cheered the way; But, bursting forth above the waves, the Sun Laughs at my pains, and seems to say, "Be done." Yet, Beaumont, thou wilt not, I trust, reprove This humble offering made by Truth to Love, Nor chide the Muse that stooped to break a spell Which might have else been on me yet: FAREWELL. Note.-LOUGHRIGG TARN, alluded to in the foregoing Epistle, resembles, though much smaller in compass, the Lake Nemi, or Speculum Dianæ as it is often called, not only in its clear waters and circular form, and the beauty immediately surrounding it, but also as being overlooked by the eminence of Langdale Pikes, as Lake Nemi is by that of Monte Calvo. Since this Epistle was written, Loughrigg Tarn has lost much of its beauty by the felling of many natural clumps of wood, relics of the old forest, particularly upon the farm called "The Oaks," from the abundance of that tree which grew there. It is to be regretted, upon public grounds, that Sir George Beaumont did not carry into effect his intention of constructing UPON PERUSING THE FOREGOING EPISTLE THIR TY YEARS AFTER ITS COMPOSITION. SOON did the Almighty Giver of all rest here a summer retreat in the style I have described; as his taste would have set an example how buildings, with all the accommodations modern society requires, might be introduced even into the most secluded parts of this country without injuring their native character. The design was not abandoned from failure of inclination on his part, but in consequence of local untowardness which need not be particularized. II. GOLD AND SILVER FISHES IN A VASE. THE soaring lark is blest as proud For something more than dull content, Yet might your glassy prison seem Ye weave, no danger from without, And peace among yourselves. Type of a sunny human breast Is your transparent cell; Where, sensitive of every ray That smites this tiny sea, Your scaly panoplies repay How beautiful!-Yet none knows why This ever-graceful change, And sometimes, not without your will, Fays, Genii of gigantic size! When the fierce orbs abate their glare; Whate'er ye seem, whate'er ye are, Cold though your nature be, 't is pure; Your birthright is a fence From all that haughtier kinds endure Through tyranny of sense. Ah! not alone by colors bright Are ye to heaven allied, When, like essential forms of light, Ye mingle, or divide. For day-dreams soft as e'er beguiled Accept, mute Captives! thanks and praise; Delight resembling love. 1829. III. LIBERTY. (SEQUEL TO THE PRECEDING.) [Addressed to a friend; the gold and silver fishes having been removed to a pool in the pleasure-ground of Rydal Mount.] "The liberty of a people consists in being governed by laws which they have made for themselves, under whatever form it be of government. The liberty of a private man, in being master of his own time and actions, as far as may consist with the laws of God and of his country. Of this latter we are here to discourse." COWLEY. THOSE breathing Tokens of your kind regard, |