That told of days long past, when here I roved
With friends and kindred tenderly beloved;

Some who had early mandates to depart,
Yet are allowed to steal my path athwart

By Duddon's side; once more do we unite,

Once more beneath the kind Earth's tranquil light;
And smothered joys into new being start.

From her unworthy seat, the cloudy stall
Of Time, breaks forth triumphant Memory;
Her glistening tresses bound, yet light and free
As golden locks of birch, that rise and fall
On gales that breathe too gently to recal
Aught of the fading year's inclemency!

XXII.

TRADITION.

A LOVE-LORN Maid, at some far-distant time,
Came to this hidden pool, whose depths surpass
In crystal clearness Dian's looking-glass;

And, gazing, saw that Rose, which from the prime
Derives its name, reflected as the chime

Of echo doth reverberate some sweet sound:

The starry treasure from the blue profound

She longed to ravish; - shall she plunge, or climb
The humid precipice, and seize the guest

Of April, smiling high in upper air?
Desperate alternative! what fiend could dare

To prompt the thought?-Upon the steep rock's breast
The lonely Primrose yet renews its bloom,
Untouched memento of her hapless doom!

XXIII.

SHEEP-WASHING.

SAD thoughts, avaunt! — the fervour of the year,
Poured on the fleece-encumbered flock, invites
To laving currents, for prelusive rites

Duly performed before the Dales-men shear

Their panting charge. The distant Mountains hear, Hear and repeat, the turmoil that unites

Clamour of boys with innocent despites

Of barking dogs, and bleatings from strange fear. Meanwhile, if Duddon's spotless breast receive Unwelcome mixtures as the uncouth noise

Thickens, the pastoral River will forgive

Such wrong; nor need we blame the licensed joys, Though false to Nature's quiet equipoise:

Frank are the sports, the stains are fugitive.

No zephyr breathes, no cloud its shadow throws:

If we advance unstrengthened by repose,

Farewell the solace of the vagrant reed!

This Nook, with woodbine hung and straggling weed,

Tempting recess as ever pilgrim chose,

Half grot, half arbour, proffers to enclose

Body and mind from molestation freed,

In narrow compass

narrow as itself:

Or if the Fancy, too industrious Elf,

Be loth that we should breathe awhile exempt

From new incitements friendly to our task,

There wants not stealthy prospect, that may tempt

Loose Idless to forego her wily mask.

XXV.

METHINKS 'twere no unprecedented feat
Should some benignant Minister of air
Lift, and encircle with a cloudy chair,

The One for whom my heart shall ever beat

Atween his downy wings be furnished, there

Would lodge her, and the cherished burden bear
O'er hill and valley to this dim retreat!
Rough ways my steps have trod; too rough and long
For her companionship; here dwells soft ease:
With sweets which she partakes not some distaste
Mingles, and lurking consciousness of wrong;
Languish the flowers; the waters seem to waste
Their vocal charm; their sparklings cease to please.