Such is the lot of all the young,
However bright and fair.

Lo! Streams that April could not check
Are patient of thy rule;
Gurgling in foamy water-break,
Loitering in glassy pool:

By thee, thee only, could be sent
Such gentle mists as glide,
Curling with unconfirmed intent,
On that green mountain's side.

How delicate the leafy veil

Through which yon house of God
Gleams 'mid the peace of this deep dale,
By few but shepherds trod !
And lowly huts, near beaten ways,

No sooner stand attired

In thy fresh wreaths, than they for praise
Peep forth, and are admired.

Season of fancy and of hope,

Permit not for one hour

A blossom from thy crown to drop,

Nor add to it a flower!

Keep, lovely May, as if by touch

Of self-restraining art,

This modest charm of not too much,
Part seen, imagined part!

80

90

WHERE towers are crushed, and unforbidden weeds
O'er mutilated arches shed their seeds;
And temples, doomed to milder change, unfold
A new magnificence that vies with old;
Firm in its pristine majesty hath stood

A votive Column, spared by fire and flood:
And, though the passions of man's fretful race
Have never ceased to eddy round its base,
Not injured more by touch of meddling hands
Than a lone obelisk 'mid Nubian sands,

Or aught in Syrian deserts left to save
From death the memory of the good and brave.
Historic figures round the shaft embost
Ascend, with lineaments in air not lost :
Still as he turns, the charmed spectator sees
Group winding after group with dream-like ease,
Triumphs in sunbright gratitude displayed,
Or softly stealing into modest shade.

-So, pleased with purple clusters to entwine
Some lofty elm-tree, mounts the daring vine;
The woodbine so, with spiral grace, and breathes
Wide-spreading odors from her flowery wreaths.

Borne by the Muse from rills in shepherds' ears,
Murmuring but one smooth story for all years,
I gladly commune with the mind and heart

Of him who thus survives by classic art,

ΙΟ

20

His actions witness, venerate his mien,

And study Trajan as by Pliny seen;

Behold how fought the Chief whose conquering sword
Stretched far as earth might own a single lord ;
In the delight of moral prudence schooled,
How feelingly at home the Sovereign ruled;
Best of the good-in Pagan faith allied
To more than Man, by virtue deified.

30

Memorial Pillar! 'mid the wrecks of Time Preserve thy charge with confidence sublime, The exultations, pomps, and cares of Rome, Whence half the breathing world received its doom; Things that recoil from language; that, if shown By apter pencil, from the light had flown. A Pontiff, Trajan here the Gods implores, There greets an Embassy from Indian shores; Lo! he harangues his cohorts - there the storm Of battle meets him in authentic form! Unharnessed, naked, troops of Moorish horse Sweep to the charge; more high, the Dacian force To hoof and finger mailed: yet, high or low, None bleed, and none lie prostrate but the foe. In every Roman, through all turns of fate,

Is Roman dignity inviolate;

Spirit in him pre-eminent, who guides,
Supports, adorns, and over all presides;
Distinguished only by inherent state

From honored Instruments that round him wait;
Rise as he may, his grandeur scorns the test

Of outward symbol, nor will deign to rest

40

50

On aught by which another is deprest.

Alas! that One thus disciplined could toil
To enslave whole nations on their native soil;
So emulous of Macedonian fame,

That, when his age was measured with his aim,
He drooped, 'mid else unclouded victories,
And turned his eagles back with deep-drawn sighs;
O weakness of the Great! O folly of the Wise!

Where now the haughty Empire that was spread
With such fond hope? Her very speech is dead;
Yet glorious Art the power of Time defies,
And Trajan still, through various enterprise,
Mounts, in this fine illusion, toward the skies:
Still are we present with the imperial Chief,
Nor cease to gaze upon the bold Relief
Till Rome, to silent marble unconfined,
Becomes with all her years a vision of the Mind.

60

70

THE WISHING-GATE.

1828. - 1829.

In the vale of Grasmere, by the side of the old highway leading to Ambleside, is a gate, which, time out of mind, has been called the Wishing-gate, from a belief that wishes formed or indulged there have a favorable issue.

HOPE rules a land forever green :

All powers that serve the bright-eyed Queen

Are confident and gay ;

Clouds at her bidding disappear;

Points she to aught?—the bliss draws near,

And Fancy smooths the way.

Not such the land of Wishes - there
Dwell fruitless day-dreams, lawless prayer,

And thoughts with things at strife;

Yet how forlorn, should ye depart,

Ye superstitions of the heart,
How poor, were human life!

When magic lore abjured its might,
Ye did not forfeit one dear right,
One tender claim abate;
Witness this symbol of your sway,
Surviving near the public way,
The rustic Wishing-gate!

Inquire not if the faery race
Shed kindly influence on the place,

Ere northward they retired;

If here a warrior left a spell,

Panting for glory as he fell ;

Or here a saint expired.

Enough that all around is fair,
Composed with Nature's finest care,
And in her fondest love -

Peace to embosom and content -
To overawe the turbulent,

The selfish to reprove.

Yea! even the Stranger from afar,
Reclining on this moss-grown bar,

Unknowing and unknown,