VIII

THIS Impromptu appeared, many years ago, among the Author's poems, from which, in subsequent editions, it was excluded. It is reprinted at the request of the Friend in whose presence the lines were thrown off.

T

HE sun has long been set,

The stars are out by twos and threes,
The little birds are piping yet

Among the bushes and trees;

There's a cuckoo, and one or two thrushes,
And a far-off wind that rushes,

And a sound of water that gushes,

And the cuckoo's sovereign cry

Fills all the hollow of the sky.
Who would go 'parading

In London, and masquerading,'
On such a night of June

With that beautiful soft half-moon,

And all these innocent blisses?

On such a night as this is!

1802

IO

IX

COMPOSED UPON AN EVENING OF EXTRAORDINARY SPLENDOUR AND BEAUTY

H

I

AD this effulgence disappeared

With flying haste, I might have sent,

Among the speechless clouds, a look

Of blank astonishment;

But 'tis endued with power to stay,

And sanctify one closing day,

That frail Mortality may see

What is ?-ah no, but what can be!

Time was when field and watery cove
With modulated echoes rang,

While choirs of fervent Angels sang

Their vespers in the grove;

Or, crowning, star-like, each some sovereign height,
Warbled, for heaven above and earth below,

Strains suitable to both.-Such holy rite,

Methinks, if audibly repeated now

From hill or valley, could not move
Sublimer transport, purer love,

Than doth this silent spectacle-the gleam-
The shadow-and the peace supreme!

ΤΟ

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II

No sound is uttered,—but a deep
And solemn harmony pervades
The hollow vale from steep to steep,
And penetrates the glades.
Far-distant images draw nigh,
Called forth by wondrous potency
Of beamy radiance, that imbues

Whate'er it strikes with gem-like hues!
In vision exquisitely clear,

Herds range along the mountain side;
And glistening antlers are descried;
And gilded flocks appear.

Thine is the tranquil hour, purpureal Eve!
But long as god-like wish, or hope divine,
Informs my spirit, ne'er can I believe

That this magnificence is wholly thine!
-From worlds not quickened by the sun

A portion of the gift is won;

An intermingling of Heaven's pomp is spread
On ground which British shepherds tread!

III

And if there be whom broken ties

Afflict, or injuries assail,

Yon hazy ridges to their eyes

Present a glorious scale,

Climbing suffused with sunny air,

To stop-no record hath told where!

And tempting Fancy to ascend,

And with immortal Spirits blend!

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-Wings at my shoulders seem to play;

But, rooted here, I stand and gaze

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On those bright steps that heavenward raise
Their practicable way.

Come forth, ye drooping old men, look abroad,
And see to what fair countries ye are bound!
And if some traveller, weary of his road,

Hath slept since noon-tide on the grassy ground,
Ye Genii! to his covert speed;

And wake him with such gentle heed

As may attune his soul to meet the dower
Bestowed on this transcendent hour!

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IV

Such hues from their celestial Urn
Were wont to stream before mine eye,
Where'er it wandered in the morn
Of blissful infancy.

This glimpse of glory, why renewed?
Nay, rather speak with gratitude;
For, if a vestige of those gleams
Survived, 'twas only in my dreams.

Dread Power! whom peace and calmness serve
No less than Nature's threatening voice,
If aught unworthy be my choice,

From THEE if I would swerve;

Oh, let Thy grace remind me of the light
Full early lost, and fruitlessly deplored;
Which, at this moment, on my waking sight
Appears to shine, by miracle restored;
My soul, though yet confined to earth,
Rejoices in a second birth!

-Tis past, the visionary splendour fades;
And night approaches with her shades.

1818

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Note-The multiplication of mountain-ridges, described at the commencement of the third Stanza of this Ode, as a kind of Jacob's Ladder, leading to Heaven, is produced either by watery vapours, or sunny haze;-in the present instance by the latter cause. Allusions to the Ode entitled Intimations of Immortality' pervade the last Stanza of the foregoing Poem.

X

COMPOSED BY THE SEA-SHORE

WTH

HAT mischief cleaves to unsubdued regret,
How fancy sickens by vague hopes beset;
How baffled projects on the spirit prey,
And fruitless wishes eat the heart away,
The Sailor knows; he best, whose lot is cast
On the relentless sea that holds him fast

On chance dependent, and the fickle star

Of power, through long and melancholy war.

O sad it is, in sight of foreign shores,
Daily to think on old familiar doors,

Hearths loved in childhood, and ancestral floors;
Or, tossed about along a waste of foam,
To ruminate on that delightful home
Which with the dear Betrothed was to come;

ΤΟ

Or came and was and is, yet meets the eye
Never but in the world of memory;

Or in a dream recalled, whose smoothest range
Is crossed by knowledge, or by dread, of change,
And if not so, whose perfect joy makes sleep
A thing too bright for breathing man to keep.
Hail to the virtues which that perilous life
Extracts from Nature's elemental strife;
And welcome glory won in battles fought
As bravely as the foe was keenly sought.
But to each gallant Captain and his crew
A less imperious sympathy is due,

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Such as my verse now yields, while moonbeams play
On the mute sea in this unruffled bay;

Such as will promptly flow from every breast,
Where good men, disappointed in the quest
Of wealth and power and honours, long for rest;
Or, having known the splendours of success,
Sigh for the obscurities of happiness.

T

XI

1833

HE Crescent-moon, the Star of Love,
Glories of evening, as ye there are seen

With but a span of sky between

Speak one of you, my doubts remove,

Which is the attendant Page and which the Queen?

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Published 1842

XII

TO THE MOON

COMPOSED BY THE SEASIDE,-
-ON THE COAST OF CUMBERLAND

ANDERER! that stoop'st so low, and com'st so

WA

near

To human life's unsettled atmosphere;

Who lov'st with Night and Silence to partake,

So might it seem, the cares of them that wake;

And, through the cottage-lattice softly peeping,
Dost shield from harm the humblest of the sleeping;
What pleasure once encompassed those sweet names
Which yet in thy behalf the Poet claims,

An idolizing dreamer as of yore!—

I slight them all; and, on this sea-beat shore
Sole-sitting, only can to thoughts attend

That bid me hail thee as the SAILOR'S FRIEND;

1Ο

So call thee for heaven's grace through thee made known
By confidence supplied and mercy shown,
When not a twinkling star or beacon's light
Abates the perils of a stormy night;

And for less obvious benefits, that find

Their way, with thy pure help, to heart and mind;
Both for the adventurer starting in life's prime ;
And veteran ranging round from clime to clime,
Long-baffled hope's slow fever in his veins,

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And wounds and weakness oft his labour's sole remains.

The aspiring Mountains and the winding Streams,
Empress of Night! are gladdened by thy beams;
A look of thine the wilderness pervades,
And penetrates the forest's inmost shades;
Thou, chequering peaceably the minster's gloom,
Guid'st the pale Mourner to the lost one's tomb;
Canst reach the Prisoner-to his grated cell
Welcome, though silent and intangible !—
And lives there one, of all that come and
On the great waters toiling to and fro,
One, who has watched thee at some quiet hour
Enthroned aloft in undisputed power,

go

Or crossed by vapoury streaks and clouds that move
Catching the lustre they in part reprove-
Nor sometimes felt a fitness in thy sway

To call up thoughts that shun the glare of day,
And make the serious happier than the gay?

Yes, lovely Moon! if thou so mildly bright
Dost rouse, yet surely in thy own despite,
To fiercer mood the frenzy-stricken brain,
Let me a compensating faith maintain;
That there's a sensitive, a tender, part
Which thou canst touch in every human heart,
For healing and composure.-But, as least
And mightiest billows ever have confessed
Thy domination; as the whole vast Sea
Feels through her lowest depths thy sovereignty;
So shines that countenance with especial grace
On them who urge the keel her plains to trace
Furrowing its way right onward. The most rude,
Cut off from home and country, may have stood-
Even till long gazing hath bedimmed his eye,
Or the mute rapture ended in a sigh-
Touched by accordance of thy placid cheer,
With some internal lights to memory dear,

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