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 withdraws,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

Her grief with, as she might! But where, O,

where

Is traceable a vestige of the notes

That ruled those dances wild in character?
Deep underground? Or in the upper air,
On the shrill wind of midnight? or where floats
O'er twilight fields the autumnal gossamer?

XII.

HINTS FOR THE FANCY.

ON, loitering Muse! the swift Stream chides us, - on!

Albeit his deep-worn channel doth immure
Objects immense portrayed in miniature,
Wild shapes for many a strange comparison !
Niagaras, Alpine passes, and anon

Abodes of Naiads, calm abysses pure,

Bright liquid mansions, fashioned to endure
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:

we must;

Turn from the sight, enamored Muse,-
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,
Attended but by thy own voice, save when
The clouds and fowls of the air thy way pursue !

XV.

FROM this deep chasm, where quivering sunbeams play

Upon its loftiest crags, mine eyes behold
A gloomy NICHE, capacious, blank, and cold;
A concave free from shrubs and mosses gray;
In semblance fresh, as if, with dire affray,
Some Statue, placed amid these regions old
For tutelary service, thence had rolled,

Startling the flight of timid Yesterday!
Was it by mortals sculptured?

weary slaves Of slow endeavor! or abruptly cast Into rude shape by fire, with roaring blast Tempestuously let loose from central caves? Or fashioned by the turbulence of waves, Then when o'er highest hills the Deluge passed?

XVI.

AMERICAN TRADITION.

SUCH fruitless questions may not long beguile
Or plague the fancy 'mid the sculptured shows
Conspicuous yet where Oroonoko flows;
There would the Indian answer with a smile
Aimed at the White Man's ignorance the while
Of the GREAT WATERS telling how they rose,
Covered the plains, and, wandering where they
chose,