O'er rough and smooth she trips along, And never looks behind; That whistles in the wind. “ON NATURE'S INVITATION DO I COME.” 1800. - 1850. ON Nature's invitation do I come, By Reason sanctioned. Can the choice mislead, With all its unappropriated good, My own; and not mine only, for with me Entrenched say rather peacefully embowered Aye, think on that, my heart, and cease to stir ; Oh, if such silence be not thanks to God For what hath been bestowed, then where, where then Shall gratitude find rest? Mine eyes did ne'er Fix on a lovely object, nor my mind Take pleasure in the midst of happy thought, ΙΟ 20 ... The thought of her was like a flash of light, Though peaceful, full of gladness. Thou art pleased, The multitude of little rocky hills, Thy church, and cottages of mountain stone Like separated stars with clouds between. 30 40 "BLEAK SEASON WAS IT, TURBULENT AND WILD." 1800(?). 1850. BLEAK season was it, turbulent and wild, When hitherward we journeyed, side by side, Through bursts of sunshine and through flying showers, Paced the long vales, how long they were, and yet For its keen breath, was aiding to our steps, Stern was the face of Nature; we rejoiced In that stern countenance; for our souls thence drew The naked trees, The icy brooks, as on we passed, appeared To question us, "Whence come ye, to what end?” ΙΟ HART-LEAP WELL. Hart-Leap Well is a small spring of water, about five miles from Richmond in Yorkshire, and near the side of the road that leads from Richmond to Askrigg. Its name is derived from a remarkable Chase, the memory of which is preserved by the monuments spoken of in the second part of the following Poem, which monuments do now exist as I have there described them. 1800. 1800. THE Knight had ridden down from Wensley Moor And now, as he approached a vassal's door, "Bring forth another horse!" he cried aloud. 10 "Another horse!' That shout the vassal heard, Joy sparkled in the prancing courser's eyes; A rout this morning left Sir Walter's Hall, Sir Walter, restless as a veering wind, The Knight hallooed, he cheered and chid them on Where is the throng, the tumult of the race, The bugles that so joyfully were blown? This chase it looks not like an earthly chase; Sir Walter and the hart are left alone. The poor hart toils along the mountain-side; I will not stop to tell how far he fled, 330 20 Nor will I mention by what death he died; Dismounting, then, he leaned against a thorn; Close to the thorn on which Sir Walter leaned, Upon his side the hart was lying stretched : And now, too happy for repose or rest, Sir Walter walked all round, north, south, and west, And climbing up the hill (it was at least Sir Walter wiped his face, and cried, "Till now 40 50 |