LXVII. "A sailor's wife I knew a widow's cares, Nor could we live together those poor boys and I; LXVIII. "For evil tongues made oath how on that day He'd not have robbed the raven of its food. My husband's loving kindness stood between Me and all worldly harms and wrongs however keen." LXIX. Alas! the thing she told with labouring breath The Sailor knew too well. That wickedness His hand had wrought; and when in the hour of death He saw his Wife's lips move his name to bless With her last words, unable to suppress His anguish, with his heart he ceased to strive; LXX. To tell the change that Voice within her wrought, LXXI. She slept in peace, his pulses throbbed and stopped, His ears were never silent; sleep forsook And oft he groaned aloud, "O God, that I were dead!" LXXII. The Soldier's Widow lingered in the cot; And, when he rose, he thanked her pious care Through which his Wife, to that kind shelter brought, He breathed for her, and for that merciful pair. A burthen, now with fortitude sustained, He bore within a breast where dreadful quiet reigned. LXXIII. Confirmed of purpose, fearlessly prepared "O welcome sentence which will end though late," He said, "the pangs that to my conscience came LXXIV. His fate was pitied. Him in iron case When into storm the evening's sky is wrought, THE YEW-TREE SEAT. LINES LEFT UPON A SEAT IN A YEW-TREE, WHICH STANDS NEAR THE LAKE OF ESTHWAITE, ON A DESOLATE PART OF THE SHORE, COM MANDING A BEAUTIFUL PROSPECT. Comp. 1795. Pub. 1798. [Composed in part at school at Hawkshead. The tree has disappeared, and the slip of Common on which it stood, that ran parallel to the lake, and lay open to it, has long been enclosed; so that the road has lost much of its attraction. This spot was my favourite walk in the evenings during the latter part of my school-time. The individual whose habits and character are here given, was a gentleman of the neighbourhood, a man of talent and learning, who had been educated at one of our Universities, and returned to pass his time in seclusion on his own estate. He died a bachelor in middle age. Induced by the beauty of the prospect, he built a small summer-house, on the rocks above the peninsula on which the Ferry House* stands. This property afterwards passed into the hands of the late Mr Curwen. The site was long ago pointed out by Mr West, in his Guide, as the pride of the Lakes, and now goes by the name of "The Station." So much used I to be delighted with the view from it, while a little boy, that some years before the first pleasure house was built, I led thither from Hawkshead a youngster about my own age, an Irish boy, who was a servant to an itinerant conjurer. My notion was to witness the pleasure I expected the boy would receive from the prospect of the islands below and the intermingling water. I was not disappointed; and I hope the fact, insignificant as it may appear to some, may be thought worthy of note by others who may cast their eye over these notes.] NAY, Traveller! rest. This lonely Yew-tree stands Who he was That piled these stones and with the mossy sod Of lofty hopes, he to the world went forth What if these barren boughs the bee not loves? 1798 First covered o'er, and taught this aged Tree. 1798. This refers to the Ferry on Windermere.-ED. Which genius did not hallow; 'gainst the taint And, lifting up his head, he then would gaze In youth by genius nurs'd, And big with lofty views, he to the world Owed him no service; he was like a plant 2 1798. Fair to the sun, the darling of the winds, But hung with fruit which no one, that passed by, 1800. 1798. The stone-chat, or the sand-lark, restless bird, 1815. The text of 1820 returns to that of 1798. 3 1820. And on these barren rocks, with juniper, 1798. |