For in that face they saw the last,
Last lingering look of clay, that tames
All pride; by which all happiness is blighted.
Said Merlin, "Mighty King, fair Lords,
Away with feast and tilt and tourney!
Ye saw, throughout this royal House,
Ye heard, a rocking marvellous
Of turrets, and a clash of swords
Self-shaken, as I closed my airy journey.
Lo! by a destiny well known

To mortals, joy is turned to sorrow;
This is the wished-for Bride, the Maid
Of Egypt, from a rock conveyed

Where she by shipwreck had been thrown; Ill sight! but grief may vanish ere the morrow." "Though vast thy power, thy words are weak,"

Exclaimed the King, "a mockery hateful; Dutiful Child, her lot how hard!

Is this her piety's reward?

Those watery locks, that bloodless cheek! O winds without remorse! O shore ungrateful! Rich robes are fretted by the moth; Towers, temples, fall by stroke of thunder; Will that, or deeper thoughts, abate A Father's sorrow for her fate? He will repent him of his troth;

His brain will burn, his stout heart split

Her birth was heathen; but a fence
Of holy Angels round her hovered:
A Lady added to my court

So fair, of such divine report
And worship, seemed a recompense
For fifty kingdoms by my sword recovered.
Ask not for whom, O Champions true!
She was reserved by me her life's betrayer;
She who was meant to be a bride
Is now a corse: then put aside

Vain thoughts, and speed ye, with observance due

Of Christian rites, in Christian ground to lay her."

"The tomb," said Merlin, "may not close
Upon her yet, earth hide her beauty;
Not froward to thy sovereign will
Esteem me, Liege! if I, whose skill
Wafted her hither, interpose

To check this pious haste of erring duty.

My books command me to lay bare
The secret thou art bent on keeping:
Here must a high attest be given,
What Bridegroom was for her ordained by
Heaven:

And in my glass significants there are Of things that may to gladness turn this weeping.

For this, approaching One by One,
Thy Knights must touch the cold hand of the
Virgin;

A harvest of high hopes and noble enterprises."
"So be it," said the King:-"anon,
Here, where the Princess lies, begin the trial;
Knights, each in order as ye stand
Step forth."-To touch the pallid hand
Sir Agravaine advanced; no sign he won
From Heaven or earth;-Sir Kaye had like
denial.

Abashed, Sir Dinas turned away;

Even for Sir Percival was no disclosure;
Though he, devoutest of all Champions, ere
He reached that ebon car, the bier
Whereon diffused like snow the Damsel lay,
Full thrice had crossed himself in meek com-
posure.

Imagine (but ye Saints! who can?)
How in still air the balance trembled-
The wishes, peradventure the despites.

That overcame some not ungenerous Knights:
And all the thoughts that lengthened out a

Whereat, a tender twilight streak

Of colour dawned upon the Damsel's cheek; And her lips, quickening with uncertain red, Seemed from each other a faint warmth to borrow.

Deep was the awe, the rapture high,

Of love emboldened, hope with dread entwining,

When, to the mouth, relenting Death
Allowed a soft and flower-like breath,
Precursor to a timid sigh,

To lifted eyelids, and a doubtful shining.
In silence did King Arthur gaze

Upon the signs that pass away or tarry;
In silence watched the gentle strife
Of Nature leading back to life;
Then eased his soul at length by praise
Of God, and Heaven's pure Queen-the blissful
Mary.

Then said he, "Take her to thy heart,

Sir Galahad! a treasure, that God giveth,

Bound by indissoluble ties to thee Through mortal change and immortality; Be happy and unenvied, thou who art A goodly Knight that hath no peer that liveth!" Not long the Nuptials were delayed; And sage tradition still rehearses The pomp, the glory of that hour When toward the altar from her bower

King Arthur led the Egyptian Maid,
And Angels carolled these far-echoed verses;-
Who shrinks not from alliance

Of evil with good Powers
To God proclaims defiance,
And mocks whom he adores.

A Ship to Christ devoted

From the Land of Nile did go;
Alas! the bright Ship floated,
An Idol at her prow.

By magic domination,
The Heaven-permitted vent
Of purblind mortal passion,
Was wrought her punishment.
The Flower, the Form within it,
What served thee in her need?
Her port she could not win it,
Nor from mishap be freed.
The tempest overcame her,
And she was seen no more;
But gently, gently blame her-
She cast a Pearl ashore.
The Maid to Jesu hearkened,
And kept to him her faith,
Till sense in death was darkened,
Or sleep akin to death.

1830.

But Angels round her pillow
Kept watch, a viewless band;
And, billow favouring billow,
She reached the destined strand.
Blest Pair! whate'er befal you,
Your faith in Him approve
Who from frail earth can call you
To bowers of endless love!

The encircling laurels, thick with leaves,
Gave back a rich and dazzling sheen,
That overpowered their natural green.
Through hill and valley every breeze
Had sunk to rest with folded wings:
Keen was the air, but could not freeze,
Nor check, the music of the strings;
So stout and hardy were the band

That scraped the chords with strenuous hand!
And who but listened?-till was paid
Respect to every Inmate's claim:
The greeting given, the music played,
In honour of each household name,
Duly pronounced with lusty call,
And " merry Christmas" wished to all!
O Brother! I revere the choice
That took thee from thy native hills;
And it is given thee to rejoice:
Though public care full often tills
(Heaven only witness of the toil)

A barren and ungrateful soil.

Yet, would that Thou, with me and mine,
Hadst heard this never-failing rite;
And seen on other faces shine

A true revival of the light
Which Nature and these rustic Powers,
In simple childhood, spread through ours!
For pleasure hath not ceased to wait
On these expected annual rounds;
Whether the rich man's sumptuous gate
Call forth the unclaborate sounds,
Or they are offered at the door
That guards the lowliest of the poor.
How touching, when, at midnight, sweep
Snow-muffled winds, and all is dark,
To hear-and sink again to sleep!

1.

NOT envying Latian shades-if yet they throw A grateful coolness round that crystal Spring, Blandusja, prattling as when long ago

Or, at an earlier call, to mark,
By blazing fire, the still suspense
Of self-complacent innocence;

The mutual nod, -the grave disguise
Of hearts with gladness brimming o'er;
And some unbidden tears that rise

For names once heard, and heard no more;
Tears brightened by the serenade
For infant in the cradle laid.

Ah! not for emerald fields alone,

With ambient streams more pure and bright
Than fabled Cytherea's zone

Glittering before the Thunderer's sight,
Is to my heart of hearts endeared

The ground where we were born and reared!
Hail, ancient Manners! sure defence,
Where they survive, of wholesome laws;
Remnants of love whose modest sense
Thus into narrow room withdraws;
Hail, Usages of pristine mould,
And ye that guard them, Mountains old!
Bear with me, Brother! quench the thought
That slights this passion, or condemns;
If thee fond Fancy ever brought
From the proud margin of the Thames,
And Lambeth's venerable towers,

To humbler streams, and greener bowers
Yes, they can make, who fail to find,
Short leisure even in busiest days;
Moments, to cast a look behind,
And profit by those kindly rays

That through the clouds do sometimes steal,
And all the far-off past reveal.

Hence, while the imperial City's din
Beats frequent on thy satiate ear,
A pleased attention I may win
To agitations less severe,
That neither overwhelm nor cloy,
But fill the hollow vale with joy!

The Sabine Bard was moved her praise to sing: Careless of flowers that in perennial blow Round the moist marge of Persian fountains cling;

How shall I paint thee?-Be this naked stone
My seat, while I give way to such intent;
Pleased could my verse, a speaking monument,
Make to the eyes of men thy features known.
But as of all those tripping lambs not one
Outruns his fellows, so hath Nature lent
To thy beginning nought that doth present
Peculiar ground for hope to build upon.
To dignify the spot that gives thee birth,
No sign of hoar Antiquity's esteem
Appears, and none of modern Fortune's care;
Yet thou thyself hast round thee shed a gleam
Of brilliant moss, instinct with freshness rare;
Prompt offering to thy Foster-mother, Earth!

IV.

TAKE, cradled Nursling of the mountain, take
This parting glance, no negligent adieu!
A Protean change seems wrought while I
pursue

The curves, a loosely scattered chain doth make;

Or rather thou appear'st a glistering snake, Silent, and to the gazer's eye untrue, Thridding with sinuous lapse the rushes, through

Dwarf willows gliding, and by ferny brake. Starts from a dizzy steep the undaunted Rill Robed instantly in garb of snow-white foam; And laughing dares the Adventurer, who hath clomb

So high, a rival purpose to fulfil;

Else let the dastard backward wend, and

roam,

Seeking less bold achievement, where he will!

V.

SOLE listener, Duddon! to the breeze that played

With thy clear voice, I caught the fitful sound Wafted o'er sullen moss and craggy moundUnfruitful solitudes, that seemed to upbraid

"CHANGE me, some God, into that breathing rose !"

The love-sick Stripling fancifully sighs,
The envied flower beholding, as it lies
On Laura's breast, in exquisite repose;
Or he would pass into her bird, that throws
The darts of song from out its wiry cage;
Enraptured, could he for himself engage
The thousandth part of what the Nymph
bestows,

And what the little careless innocent
Ungraciously receives. Too daring choice!
There are whose calmer mind it would content
To be an unculled floweret of the glen,
Fearless of plough and scythe; or darkling
That tunes on Duddon's banks her slender
voice.

wren

IX.

THE STEPPING-STONES.

THE struggling Rill insensibly is grown
Into a Brook of loud and stately march,
Crossed ever and anon by plank or arch;
And, for like use, lo! what might seem a zone
Chosen for ornament - stone matched with

stone

In studied symmetry, with interspace
For the clear waters to pursue their race
Without restraint. How swiftly have they

flown, Succeeding-still succeeding! Here the Child Puts, when the high-swoln Flood runs fierce and wild,

His budding courage to the proof; and here
Declining Manhood learns to note the sly
And sure encroachments of infirmity,
Thinking how fast time runs, life's end how

near !

X.

THE SAME SUBJECT.

NOT so that Pair whose youthful spirits dance
With prompt emotion, urging them to pass;
A sweet confusion checks the Shepherd-lass;
Blushing she eyes the dizzy flood askance;
To stop ashamed-too timid to advance;
She ventures once again-another pause!
His outstretched hand He tauntingly with-
draws-

She sues for help with piteous utterance!
Chidden she chides again; the thrilling touch
Both feel, when he renews the wished-for aid:
Ah! if their fluttering hearts should stir too
much,

Should beat too strongly, both may be betrayed.

The frolic Loves, who, from yon high rock, see The struggle, clap their wings for victory!

XI.

THE FAERY CHASM.

No fiction was it of the antique age:
A sky-blue stone, within this sunless cleft,
Is of the very foot-marks unbereft
Which tiny Elves impressed;-on that smooth

stage

Dancing with all their brilliant equipage
In secret revels-haply after theft

Of some sweet Babe-Flower stolen, and coarse
Weed left

For the distracted Mother to assuage

When the broad oak drops, a leafless skeleton, And the solidities of mortal pride,

Palace and tower, are crumbled into dust!The Bard who walks with Duddon for his guide

Shall find such toys of fancy thickly set:
Turn from the sight, enamoured Muse-we

must;

And, if thou canst, leave them without regret !

XIII.

OPEN PROSPECT.

HAIL to the fields-with Dwellings sprinkled o'er,

And one small hamlet, under a green hill Clustering, with barn and byre, and spouting mill!

A glance suffices:-should we wish for more, Gay June would scorn us. But when bleak winds roar

Through the stiff lance-like shoots of pollard ash,

Dread swell of sound! loud as the gusts that lash

The matted forests of Ontario's shore
By wasteful steel unsmitten-then would I
Turn into port; and, reckless of the gale,
Reckless of angry Duddon sweeping by,
While the warm hearth exalts the mantling ale,
Laugh with the generous household heartily
At all the merry pranks of Donnerdale !

XIV.

O MOUNTAIN Stream! the Shepherd, and his
Cot

Are privileged Inmates of deep solitude;
Nor would the nicest Anchorite exclude
A field or two of brighter green, or plot
Of tillage-ground, that seemeth like a spot
Of stationary sunshine:- thou hast viewed
These only, Duddon! with their paths renewed
By fits and starts, yet this contents thee not.
Thee hath some awful Spirit impelled to leave,
Utterly to desert, the haunts of men,
Though simple thy companions were and few;
And through this wilderness a passage cleave
The clouds and fowls of the air thy way pur-
Attended but by thy own voice, save when

sue!

XV.

FROM this deep chasm, where quivering sunbeams play

Upon its loftiest crags, mine eyes behold
A gloomy NICHE, capacious, blank, and cold;