Full many a glimpse (but sparingly bestowed Upon the exalted hills. He made report That once, while there he plied his studious work Within that canvas Dwelling, colors, lines, And the whole surface of the out-spread map, for all around Had darkness fallen, Became invisible unthreatened, unpro As if the golden day itself had been 1813. VII. WRITTEN WITH A SLATE PENCIL UPON A STONE, THE LARGEST OF A HEAP LYING NEAR A DESERTED QUARRY,. UPON ONE OF THE ISLANDS AT RYDAL. STRANGER! this hillock of misshapen stones But, as it chanced, Sir William having learned That from the shore a full-grown man might wade, At any hour he chose, the prudent Knight The block on which these lines are traced, perhaps, Of that intended Pile, which would have been if, disturbed By beautiful conceptions, thou hast hewn Out of the quiet rock the elements Of thy trim Mansion destined soon to blaze In snow-white splendor, think again; and, taught 1800. VIII. IN these fair vales hath many a Tree At Wordsworth's suit been spared; And from the builder's hand this Stone, For some rude beauty of its own, Was rescued by the Bard: So let it rest; and time will come 1830. IX. THE massy Ways, carried across these heights Shall he frequent these precincts; locked no more In earnest converse with beloved Friends, Choice flowers are gathered! But, if Power may spring Out of a farewell yearning, - favored more Than kindred wishes mated suitably With vain regrets, - the Exile would consign · Of those pure Minds that reverence the Muse. 1826. X. INSCRIPTIONS SUPPOSED TO BE FOUND IN AND NEAR 1818. I. HOPES, what are they? Beads of morning - Strung on slender blades of grass; Or a spider's web adorning In a strait and treacherous pass. What are fears but voices airy, Till the fatal bolt is shot? What is glory? - in the socket See how dying tapers fare! What is pride?—a whizzing rocket That would emulate a star. What is friendship? — do not trust her, Nor the vows which she has made; Diamonds dart their brightest lustre From a palsy-shaken head. What is truth? a staff rejected; Bright, as if through ether steering, Such is Joy, as quickly hidden, Or misshapen to the sight, And by sullen weeds forbidden To resume its native light. What is youth? - a dancing billow, (Winds behind, and rocks before!) Age? a drooping, tottering willow On a flat and lazy shore. |