In silence Matthew lay, and eyed "Down to the vale this water steers, How merrily it goes! 'Twill murmur on a thousand years, And flow as now it flows. "And here, on this delightful day, I cannot choose but think How oft, a vigorous man, I lay Beside this Fountain's brink. "My eyes are dim with childish tears, My heart is idly stirred, For the same sound is in my ears Which in those days I heard. "Thus fares it still in our decay: And yet the wiser mind Mourns less for what age takes away Than what it leaves behind. "The Blackbird in the summer trees, The Lark upon the hill, Let loose their carols when they please, Are quiet when they will. "With Nature never do they wage A foolish strife; they see A happy youth, and their old age Is beautiful and free: "But we are pressed by heavy laws; And often, glad no more, We wear a face of joy, because We have been glad of yore. "If there is one who need bemoan His kindred laid in earth, The household hearts that were his own, It is the man of mirth. "My days, my Friend, are almost gone, My life has been approved, And many love me; but by none Am I enough beloved." "Now both himself and me he wrongs, The man who thus complains! I live and sing my idle songs Upon these happy plains, "And, Matthew, for thy Children dead I'll be a son to thee!" At this he grasped my hand, and said, "Alas! that cannot be." We rose up from the fountain-side; Of the green sheep-track did we glide; And, ere we came to Leonard's Rock, He sang those witty rhymes About the crazy old church clock, XVII. LINES WRITTEN WHILE SAILING IN A BOAT AT EVENING. How richly glows the water's breast Before us, tinged with evening hues, While, facing thus the crimson west, Such views the youthful Bard allure; And let him nurse his fond deceit, And what if he must die in sorrow! Who would not cherish dreams so sweet, Though grief and pain may come to-morrow? XVIII. REMEMBRANCE OF COLLINS, COMPOSED UPON THE THAMES NEAR RICHMOND. GLIDE gently, thus for ever glide, As now, fair River! come to me. |