Reclined, he sees, above him and below, snow; Unstained by envy, discontent, and pride; The bound of all his vanity, to deck, While needle peaks of granite shooting With one bright bell a favourite heifer's bare Tremble in ever-varying tints of air. And when a gathering weight of shadows brown 470 Falls on the valleys as the sun goes down; If dairy-produce, from his inner hoard, And Pikes, of darkness named and fear Of thrice ten summers dignify the board. and storms,1 Uplift in quiet their illumined forms, In sea-like reach of prospect round him spread, Tinged like an angel's smile all rosy red475 Awe in his breast with holiest love unites, And the near heavens impart their own delights. 500 -Alas! in every clime a flying ray The general sorrows of the human race: only deign 505 To them the gentle groups of bliss deny That on the noon-day bank of leisure lie. When downward to his winter hut he Yet more;-compelled by Powers which goes, Dear and more dear the lessening circle That solitary man disturb their reign, Powers that support an unremitting strife With all the tender charities of life, 511 Full oft the father, when his sons have grown grows; That hut which on the hills so oft em- And as a swallow, at the hour of rest, A little prattling child, he oft descends, Till storm and driving ice blockade him there. There, safely guarded by the woods behind, To manhood, seems their title to disown; And from his nest amid the storms of heaven Drives, eagle-like, those sons as he was driven; 515 With stern composure watches to the plain And never, eagle-like, beholds again! When long familiar joys are all re signed, Why does their sad remembrance haunt the mind? He hears the chiding of the baffled wind, 520 And, blest within himself, he shrinks not Or by the lazy Seine, the exile roves; from the sound. O'er the curled waters Alpine measures swell, Through Nature's vale his homely plea- And search the affections to their inmost sures glide, 1 As Schreck-Horn, the pike of terror; WetterHorn, the pike of storms, &c., &c. cell; Sweet poison spreads along the listener's veins, Turning past pleasures into mortal pains; Poison, which not a frame of steel can Surely in other thoughts contempt may brave, 526 Bows his young head with sorrow to the grave.1 Gay lark of hope, thy silent song resume! Ye flattering eastern lights, once more the hills illume! morn, Fresh gales and dews of life's delicious 530 And thou, lost fragrance of the heart, return! Alas! the little joy to man allowed 535 Yet, when opprest by sickness, grief, or care, The fountains 3 reared for them amid the waste! 560 And taught that pain is pleasure's natural Their thirst they slake:-they wash their heir, We still confide in more than we can know; toil-worn feet, And some with tears of joy each other greet. Death would be else the favourite friend Yes, I must see you when ye first behold Those holy turrets tipped with evening gold, of woe. In that glad moment will for you a sigh Be heaved of charitable sympathy; 565 In that glad moment when your hands are prest Between interminable tracts of pine, Oh! give not me that eye of hard dis dain 545 That views, undimmed, Einsiedlen's 2 wretched fane. Last, let us turn to Chamouny that 'shields With rocks and gloomy woods her fertile fields: 570 While ghastly faces through the gloom Five streams of ice amid her cots descend, appear, Abortive joy, and hope that works in And with wild flowers and blooming orchards blend ; fear; While prayer contends with silenced A scene more fair than what the Grecian agony, 1 The well-known effect of the famous air, called in French Ranz des Vaches, upon the Swiss troops. 2 This shrine is resorted to, from a hope of relief, by multitudes, from every corner of the Catholic world, labouring under mental or bodily afflictions. wound; 'Mid lawns and shades by breezy rivulets Or woodbine wreaths, a smoother path is fanned, 605 They sport beneath that mountain's The housewife there a brighter garden matchless height That holds no commerce with the sum mer night. sees, Where hum on busier wing her happy bees; From age to age, throughout his lonely On infant cheeks there fresher roses blow; And grey-haired men look up with livelier brow, bounds 580 The crash of ruin fitfully resounds; Appalling havoc! but serene his brow, Where daylight lingers on perpetual snow; Glitter the stars above, and all is black below. What marvel then if many a Wanderer sigh, 584 While roars the sullen Arve in anger by, That not for thy reward, unrivall'd Vale! Waves the ripe harvest in the autumnal gale; To greet the traveller needing food and rest; 610 Housed for the night, or but a half-hour's guest. And oh, fair France! though now the traveller sees Thy three-striped banner fluctuate on the breeze; Though martial songs have banished songs of love, And nightingales desert the village grove, That thou, the slave of slaves, art doomed Scared by the fife and rumbling drum's to pine And droop, while no Italian arts are thine, To soothe or cheer, to soften or refine. 590 Hail Freedom! whether it was mine to stray, With shrill winds whistling round my lonely way, On the bleak sides of Cumbria's heath clad moors, alarms, 616 And the short thunder, and the flash of arms; That cease not till night falls, when far and nigh, Sole sound, the Sourd1 prolongs his mournful cry; -Yet hast thou found that Freedom spreads her power 620 Beyond the cottage hearth, the cottagedoor: Or where dank sea-weed lashes Scotland's All nature smiles, and owns beneath her Each clacking mill, that broke the mur- So shall its waters, from the heavens muring streams, 630 supplied Rocked the charmed thought in more In copious showers, from earth by wholedelightful dreams; some springs, Chasing those pleasant dreams, the fall- Brood o'er the long-parched lands with play, Rouse hell's own aid, and wrap thy fields On the tall peaks the glistening sunbeams in fire: Lo, from the flames a great and glorious With a light heart our course we may 5 That break against the shore, shall lull thy mind 1 The duties upon many parts of the French rivers were so exorbitant, that the poorer people, deprived of the benefit of water carriage, were By one soft impulse saved from vacancy. obliged to transport their goods by land. -Who he was That piled these stones and with the First covered, and here taught this aged ΙΟ Warm from the labours of benevolence 40 scene Of kindred loveliness: then he would sigh, With its dark arms to form a circling Inly disturbed, to think that others felt What he must never feel: and so, lost bower, I well remember.-He was one who owned nursed, And led by nature into a wild scene Man! On visionary views would fancy feed, 45 Till his eye streamed with tears. In this deep vale Of lofty hopes, he to the world went He died,--this seat his only monument. forth 15 A favoured Being, knowing no desire Which genius did not hallow; 'gainst the taint If Thou be one whose heart the holy forms Of young imagination have kept pure, Of dissolute tongues, and jealousy, and Stranger! henceforth be warned; and hate, And scorn,—against all enemies prepared, Owed him no service; wherefore he at once know that pride, 50 Howe'er disguised in its own majesty, Is in its infancy. The man whose eye 55 In solitude.-Stranger! these gloomy The least of Nature's works, one who boughs might move The wise man to that scorn which wisdom holds Unlawful, ever. O be wiser, Thou! Instructed that true knowledge leads to love; And on these barren rocks, with fern and True dignity abides with him alone 60 Who, in the silent hour of inward thought, VIII. GUILT AND SORROW; INCIDENTS UPON SALISBURY PLAIN. [Begun 1791-92.-Completed 1793-94.-Pub- PREFIXED TO THE FIRST EDITION OF THIS Nor less than one-third of the following poem, though it has from time to time been altered in the expression, was published so far back as the |