Could I withhold thy honored name,

- and now

I love the fir-grove with a perfect love.
Thither do I withdraw when cloudless suns
Shine hot, or wind blows troublesome and strong;
And there I sit at evening, when the steep

Of Silver-how, and Grasmere's peaceful lake,
And one green island, gleam between the stems
Of the dark firs, a visionary scene!
And, while I gaze upon the spectacle

Of clouded splendor, on this dream-like sight
Of solemn loveliness, I think on thee,

My Brother, and on all which thou hast lost.
Nor seldom, if I rightly guess, while Thou,
Muttering the verses which I muttered first

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Among the mountains, through the midnight watch 100
Art pacing thoughtfully the vessel's deck

In some far region, here, while o'er my head,
At every impulse of the moving breeze,
The fir-grove murmurs with a sea-like sound.
Alone I tread this path, for aught I know,
Timing my steps to thine; and, with a store
Of undistinguishable sympathies,

Mingling most earnest wishes for the day

When we, and others whom we love, shall meet

A second time, in Grasmere's happy Vale.

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1

ELEGIAC STANZAS,

SUGGESTED BY A PICTURE OF PEELE CASTLE, IN A STORM, PAINTED BY SIR GEORGE BEAUMONT.

1805. - 1807.

I WAS thy neighbor once, thou rugged Pile!
Four summer weeks I dwelt in sight of thee:
I saw thee every day; and all the while
Thy Form was sleeping on a glassy sea.

So pure the sky, so quiet was the air!
So like, so very like, was day to day!
Whene'er I looked, thy Image still was there;
It trembled, but it never passed away.

How perfect was the calm! it seemed no sleep;
No mood, which season takes away, or brings:
I could have fancied that the mighty Deep
Was even the gentlest of all gentle things.

Ah! THEN, if mine had been the Painter's hand,
To express what then I saw; and add the gleam,
The light that never was, on sea or land,
The consecration, and the Poet's dream;

I would have planted thee, thou hoary Pile,
Amid a world how different from this!
Beside a sea that could not cease to smile;
On tranquil land, beneath a sky of bliss.

ΤΟ

20

Thou shouldst have seemed a treasure-house divine
Of peaceful years; a chronicle of heaven;
Of all the sunbeams that did ever shine
The very sweetest had to thee been given.

A Picture had it been of lasting ease,
Elysian quiet, without toil or strife;
No motion but the moving tide, a breeze,
Or merely silent Nature's breathing life.

Such, in the fond illusion of my heart,
Such Picture would I at that time have made :
And seen the soul of truth in every part,

A steadfast peace that might not be betrayed.

So once it would have been, - 't is so no more;
I have submitted to a new control:

A power is gone, which nothing can restore;
A deep distress hath humanized my Soul.

Not for a moment could I now behold

A smiling sea, and be what I have been :

The feeling of my loss will ne'er be old;

This, which I know, I speak with mind serene.

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40

Then, Beaumont, Friend! who would have been the Friend,

If he had lived, of Him whom I deplore,

This work of thine I blame not, but commend ;

This sea in anger, and that dismal shore.

O 't is a passionate Work — yet wise and well,
Well chosen is the spirit that is here;
That Hulk which labors in the deadly swell,
This rueful sky, this pageantry of fear!

And this huge Castle, standing here sublime,
I love to see the look with which it braves,
Cased in the unfeeling armor of old time,
The lightning, the fierce wind, and trampling waves.

Farewell, farewell the heart that lives alone,
Housed in a dream, at distance from the Kind!
Such happiness, wherever it be known,

Is to be pitied; for 't is surely blind.

But welcome fortitude, and patient cheer,
And frequent sights of what is to be borne !
Such sights, or worse, as are before me here.
Not without hope we suffer and we mourn.

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60

TO THE DAISY.

1805. - 1815.

SWEET Flower! belike one day to have
A place upon thy Poet's grave,

I welcome thee once more:
But He, who was on land, at sea,
My Brother, too, in loving thee,
Although he loved more silently,
Sleeps by his native shore.

Ah! hopeful, hopeful was the day
When to that ship he bent his way,
To govern and to guide:

His wish was gained: a little time

Would bring him back, in manhood's prime

ΤΟ

And free for life, these hills to climb;
With all his wants supplied.

And full of hope day followed day
While that stout Ship at anchor lay
Beside the shores of Wight;

The May had then made all things green;
And, floating there, in pomp serene,

That Ship was goodly to be seen,

His pride and his delight!

Yet then, when called ashore, he sought
The tender peace of rural thought:
In more than happy mood

To your abodes, bright daisy Flowers!

He then would steal at leisure hours,

And loved you glittering in your bowers,
A starry multitude.

20

But hark the word!

the Ship is gone;

anon

30

Returns from her long course :

Sets sail-in season due

Once more on English earth they stand:

But, when a third time from the land

They parted, sorrow was at hand

For Him and for his crew.

Ill-fated Vessel! - ghastly shock!

At length delivered from the rock,

The deep she hath regained;

And through the stormy night they steer,
Laboring for life, in hope and fear,

To reach a safer shore

Yet not to be attained!

- how near,

40