XXXI. Lo! where she stands fixed in a saint-like trance, By love, long crossed with adverse circumstance. Well pleased, her foot should print earth's common grass, Lived thankful for day's light, for daily bread, XXXIV. HARK! 'tis the Thrush, undaunted, undeprest, chain, Exulting Warbler! eased a fretted brain, RYDAL MOUNT, 1838. XXXII. TO A PAINTER. ALL praise the Likeness by thy skill portrayed; But 'tis a fruitless task to paint for me, Who, yielding not to changes Time has made, By the habitual light of memory see Eyes unbedimmed, see bloom that cannot fade, And smiles that from their birth-place ne'er shall flee Into the land where ghosts and phantoms be; And, seeing this, own nothing in its stead. Couldst thou go back into far-distant years, Or share with me, fond thought! that inward eye, Then, and then only, Painter! could thy Art The visual powers of Nature satisfy, Which hold, whate'er to common sight appears, Their sovereign empire in a faithful heart. XXXV. 'Tis He whose yester-evening's high disdain He can pour forth his spirit. In heaven above, XXXIII. ON THE SAME SUBJECT. THOUGH I beheld at first with blank surprise This Work, I now have gazed on it so long I see its truth with unreluctant eyes; O, my Beloved! I have done thee wrong, Conscious of blessedness, but, whence it sprung, Ever too heedless, as I now perceive : Morn into noon did pass, noon into eve, And the old day was welcome as the young, As welcome, and as beautiful-in sooth More beautiful, as being a thing more holy: Thanks to thy virtues, to the eternal youth Of all thy goodness, never melancholy; To thy large heart and humble mind, that cast Into one vision, future, present, past. XXXVI. ОH what a Wreck! how changed in mien and speech! Yet though dread Powers, that work in mystery, spin Entanglings of the brain; though shadows stretch She is not what she seems, a forlorn wretch, XXXVII. INTENT on gathering wool from hedge and brake A poor old Dame will bless them for the boon: To pleasure snatched for reckless pleasure's sake. The silent thoughts that search for stedfast light, Love from her depths, and Duty in her might, And Faith-these only yield secure relief. March 8th, 1842. XXXVIII. A PLEA FOR AUTHORS, MAY 1838. FAILING impartial measure to dispense To every suitor, Equity is lame; And social Justice, stript of reverence For natural rights, a mockery and a shame; Law but a servile dupe of false pretence, If, guarding grossest things from common claim Now and for ever, She, to works that came From mind and spirit, grudge a short-lived fence. "What! lengthened privilege, a lineal tie, For Books!" Yes, heartless Ones, or be it proved That 'tis a fault in Us to have lived and loved Like others, with like temporal hopes to die; No public harm that Genius from her course Be turned; and streams of truth dried up, even at their source! XXXIX. VALEDICTORY SONNET. Closing the Volume of Sonnets published in 1838. SERVING no haughty Muse, my hands have here Disposed some cultured Flowerets (drawn from spots Where they bloomed singly, or in scattered knots), Each kind in several beds of one parterre ; Both to allure the casual Loiterer, And that, so placed, my Nurslings may requite Studious regard with opportune delight, Nor be unthanked, unless I fondly err. But metaphor dismissed, and thanks apart, Reader, farewell! My last words let them be— If in this book Fancy and Truth agree; If simple Nature trained by careful Art Through It have won a passage to thy heart; Grant me thy love, I crave no other fee! XL. TO THE REV. CHRISTOPHER WORDSWORTH, D.D. MASTER OF HARROW SCHOOL, After the perusal of his Theophilus Anglicanus, recently published. ENLIGHTENED Teacher, gladly from thy hand Have I received this proof of pains bestowed By Thee to guide thy Pupils on the road That, in our native isle, and every land, The Church, when trusting in divine command And in her Catholic attributes, hath trod : O may these lessons be with profit scanned To thy heart's wish, thy labour blest by God! So the bright faces of the young and gay Shall look more bright-the happy, happier still; Catch, in the pauses of their keenest play, Motions of thought which elevate the will And, like the Spire that from your classic Hill Points heavenward, indicate the end and way. Rydal Mount, Dec. 11, 1843. XLI. TO THE PLANET VENUS. Upon its approximation (as an Evening Star) to the Earth, Jan. 1858. WHAT Strong allurement draws, what spirit guides, Thee, Vesper! brightening still, as if the nearer Thou com'st to man's abode the spot grew dearer Night after night? True is it Nature hides Her treasures less and less.-Man now presides In power, where once he trembled in his weakness; Science advances with gigantic strides ; But are we aught enriched in love and meekness? Aught dost thou see, bright Star! of pure and wise More than in humbler times graced human story; That makes our hearts more apt to sympathise With heaven, our souls more fit for future glory, When earth shall vanish from our closing eyes, Ere we lie down in our last dormitory? XLII. WANSFELL!* this Household has a favoured lot, To watch while Morn first crowns thee with her rays, How in thy pensive glooms our hearts found rest. Dec. 24, 1842. *The Hill that rises to the south-east, above Ambleside. XLIII. Who scorns a false utilitarian lure WHILE beams of orient light shoot wide and high, Baffle the threat, bright Scene, from Orrest-head Deep in the vale a little rural Town* Breathes forth a cloud-like creature of its own, But, with a less ambitious sympathy, If the calm Heaven, now to its zenith decked XLIV. In my mind's eye a Temple, like a cloud Given to the pausing traveller's rapturous glance: Of nature; and, if human hearts be dead, XLVI. PROUD were ye, Mountains, when, in times of old, Rose out of darkness: the bright Work stood still; Swept onwards, did the vision cross your view? And might of its own beauty have been proud, XLV. ON THE PROJECTED KENDAL AND WINDERMERE Is then no nook of English ground secure * Ambleside. + The degree and kind of attachment which many of the yeomanry feel to their small inheritances can scarcely be over-rated. Near the house of one of them stands a magnificent tree, which a neighbour of the owner advised him to fell for profit's sake. " Fell it!" exclaimed the yeoman, "I had rather fall on my knees and worship it." It happens, I believe, that the intended railway would pass through this little property, and I hope that an apology for the answer will not be thought necessary by one who enters into the strength of the feeling. Yes, ye were startled;—and, in balance true, XLVII. AT FURNESS ABBEY. HERE, where, of havoc tired and rash undoing, That Nature takes, her counter-work pursuing. XLVIII. AT FURNESS ABBEY. WELL have yon Railway Labourers to THIS ground Is heard; to grave demeanour all are bound; FROM THE VALE OF GRASMERE. AUGUST, 1803. THE gentlest Shade that walked Elysian plains To see how things are made and managed there. Power in my breast, wings growing in my mind, Then why these lingering steps?-A bright adieu, For a brief absence, proves that love is true; II. AT THE GRAVE OF BURNS. 1803. SEVEN YEARS AFTER HIS DEATH. I SHIVER, Spirit fierce and bold, So sadness comes from out the mould And have I then thy bones so near, And both my wishes and my fear Off weight-nor press on weight!-away Dark thoughts!-they came, but not to stay; With chastened feelings would I pay The tribute due To him, and aught that hides his clay Fresh as the flower, whose modest worth Doth glorify its humble birth With matchless beams. The piercing eye, the thoughtful brow, The struggling heart, where be they now? Full soon the Aspirant of the plough, The prompt, the brave, Slept, with the obscurest, in the low |