Meanwhile were mine; till, one bright April day,
By chance retiring from the glare of noon
To this forsaken covert, there I found
A hoary pathway traced between the trees,
And winding on with such an easy line
Along a natural opening, that I stood

Much wondering how I could have sought in vain
For what was now so obvious. To abide,

For an allotted interval of ease,

Under my cottage-roof, had gladly come
From the wild sea a cherished Visitant;
And with the sight of this same path-begun,
Begun and ended, in the shady grove,
Pleasant conviction flashed upon my mind-
That, to this opportune recess allured,
He had surveyed it with a finer eye,

A heart more wakeful; and had worn the track
By pacing here, unwearied and alone,

In that habitual restlessness of foot

That haunts the Sailor measuring o'er and o'er
His short domain upon the vessel's deck,
While she is travelling through the dreary sea.

When thou hadst quitted Esthwaite's pleasant shore,
And taken thy first leave of those green hills
And rocks that were the play-ground of thy youth,
Year followed year, my Brother! and we two,
Conversing not, knew little in what mould
Each other's mind was fashioned; and at length,
When once again we met in Grasmere Vale,
Between us there was little other bond
Than common feelings of fraternal love.

But thou, a School-boy, to the sea hadst carried
Undying recollections; Nature there

Was with thee; she, who loved us both, she still
Was with thee; and even so didst thou become

A silent Poet; from the solitude

Of the vast sea didst bring a watchful heart
Still couchant, an inevitable ear,

"'TIS SAID, THAT SOME HAVE DIED FOR LOVE." 93

And an eye practised like a blind man's touch.
-Back to the joyless Ocean thou art gone;
Nor from this vestige of thy musing hours
Could I withhold thy honoured 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 splendour, 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
Among the mountains, through the midnight watch
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.

"TIS SAID, THAT SOME HAVE DIED FOR LOVE.”

Composed 1800.

Published 1800.

'TIS said, that some have died for love :
And here and there a church-yard grave is found
In the cold north's unhallowed ground,
Because the wretched man himself had slain,
His love was such a grievous pain.

And there is one whom I five years have known :
He dwells alone

Upon Helvellyn's side:

He loved the pretty Barbara died;

And thus he makes his moan:

Three years had Barbara in her grave been laid
When thus his moan he made:

"Oh, move, thou Cottage, from behind that oak ! Or let the aged tree uprooted lie,

That in some other way yon smoke

May mount into the sky!

The clouds pass on; they from the heavens depart : I look-the sky is empty space;

I know not what I trace;

But when I cease to look, my hand is on my heart.

O! what a weight is in these shades! Ye leaves, That murmur once so dear, when will it cease? Your sound my heart of rest bereaves,

It robs my heart of peace.

Thou Thrush, that singest loud-and loud and free, Into yon row of willows flit,

Upon that alder sit;

Or sing another song, or choose another tree.

Roll back, sweet Rill! back to thy mountain-bounds, And there for ever be thy waters chained!

For thou dost haunt the air with sounds

That cannot be sustained;

If still beneath that pine-tree's ragged bough
Headlong yon waterfall must come,

Oh let it then be dumb!

Be anything, sweet Rill, but that which thou art now.

Thou Eglantine, so bright with sunny showers,

Proud as a rainbow spanning half the vale,

Thou one fair shrub, oh! shed thy flowers,
And stir not in the gale.

For thus to see thee nodding in the air,
To see thy arch thus stretch and bend,
Thus rise, and thus descend,-

Disturbs me till the sight is more than I can bear."

The Man who makes this feverish complaint
Is one of giant stature, who could dance
Equipped from head to foot in iron mail.
Ah gentle Love! if ever thought was thine
To store up kindred hours for me, thy face
Turn from me, gentle Love! nor let me walk
Within the sound of Emma's voice, nor know
Such happiness as I have known to-day.

1801.

THE SPARROW'S NEST. (21)

Composed 1801.

Published 1807.

BEHOLD, within the leafy shade,

Those bright blue eggs together laid!
On me the chance-discovered sight
Gleamed like a vision of delight.

I started-seeming to espy

The home and sheltered bed,

The Sparrow's dwelling, which, hard by

My Father's house, in wet or dry

My sister Emmeline and I

Together visited.

She looked at it and seemed to fear it ;
Dreading, tho' wishing to be near it :
Such heart was in her, being then
A little Prattler among men.

The Blessing of my later years
Was with me when a boy :

She gave me eyes, she gave me ears;
And humble cares, and delicate fears;
A heart, the fountain of sweet tears;
And love, and thought, and joy.

1802.

BEGGARS.

Composed 1802.

SHE had a tall man's height or more;

Her face from summer's noontide heat

No bonnet shaded, but she wore

A mantle, to her very feet

Descending with a graceful flow,

Published 1807.

And on her head a cap as white as new-fallen snow.

Her skin was of Egyptian brown :

Haughty, as if her eye had seen

Its own light to a distance thrown,
She towered, fit person for a Queen

To lead those ancient Amazonian files;

Or ruling Bandit's wife among the Grecian isles.

Advancing, forth she stretched her hand

And begged an alms with doleful plea
That ceased not; on our English land

Such woes, I knew, could never be ;

And yet a boon I gave her, for the creature

Was beautiful to see-a weed of glorious feature.

I left her, and pursued my way;

And soon before me did espy

A pair of little Boys at play,

Chasing a crimson butterfly;

The taller followed with his hat in hand,

Wreathed round with yellow flowers the gayest of the

land.