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The deepest cleft the mountains front displays 1
Scarce hides a shadow from her searching rays;
From the dark-blue faint silvery threads divide
The hills, while gleams below the azure tide;
Time softly treads; throughout the landscape breathes
A peace enlivened, not disturbed, by wreaths
Of charcoal-smoke, that o'er the fallen wood
Steal down the hill, and spread along the flood."

The song of mountain-streams, unheard by day,
Now hardly heard, beguiles my homeward way.
Air listens, like the sleeping water, still,
To catch the spiritual music of the hill,3
Broke only by the slow clock tolling deep,
Or shout that wakes the ferry-man from sleep,
The echoed hoof nearing the distant shore,
The boat's first motion-made with dashing oar;
Sound of closed gate, across the water borne,
Hurrying the timid hare through rustling corn; 5

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The deepest dell the mountain's breast displays,
The deepest dell the mountain's front displays




The scene is wakened, yet its peace unbroke,
By silvered wreaths of quiet charcoal smoke,
That, o'er the ruins of the fallen wood,
Steal down the hill, and spread along the flood.


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Soon followed by his hollow-parting oar,
And echoed hoof approaching the far shore;

Hurrying the feeding hare through rustling corn.



The sportive outcry of the mocking owl;1
And at long intervals the mill-dog's howl;
The distant forge's swinging thump profound;
Or yell, in the deep woods, of lonely hound.



Comp. 1789.

Pub. 1798.

[This title is scarcely correct. It was during a solitary walk on the banks of the Cam that I was first struck with this appearance, and applied it to my own feelings in the manner here expressed, changing the scene to the Thames, near Windsor. This, and the three stanzas of the following poem, "Remembrance of Collins," formed one piece; but, upon the recommendation of Coleridge, the three last stanzas were separated from the other.]

How richly glows the water's breast
Before us, tinged with evening hues,2
While, facing thus the crimson west,
The boat her silent course pursues ! 3

And see how dark the backward stream!
A little moment past so smiling!
And still, perhaps, with faithless gleam,
Some other loiterers beguiling.*

Such views the youthful Bard allure;
But, heedless of the following gloom,
He deems their colours shall endure
Till peace go with him to the tomb.

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-And let him nurse his fond deceit,

And what if he must die in sorrow!
Who would not cherish dreams so sweet,
Though grief and pain may come to-morrow?



Comp. 1789.

Pub. 1798.

GLIDE gently, thus for ever glide,
O Thames that other bards may see
As lovely visions by thy side

As now, fair river! come to me.
O glide, fair stream! for ever so,
Thy quiet soul on all bestowing,
Till all our minds for ever flow
As thy deep waters now are flowing.

Vain thought!-Yet be as now thou art,
That in thy waters may be seen

The image of a poet's heart,

How bright, how solemn, how serene !

Such as did once the Poet bless,1
Who murmuring here a later* ditty,

Could find no refuge from distress
But in the milder grief of pity.



Such heart did once the poet bless,
When pouring here a later ditty.


*Collins's Ode on the death of Thomson, the last written, I believe, of



which were published during his lifetime. This Ode is also

alluded to in the next stanza. 1798.

Now let us, as we float along,
For him suspend the dashing oar;
And pray that never child of song
May know that Poet's sorrows more,
How calm how still! the only sound,
The dripping of the oar suspended!
-The evening darkness gathers round
By virtue's holiest Powers attended.



Comp. 1791-2.

Pub. 1793.

[Much the greatest part of this poem was composed during my walks upon the banks of the Loire, in the years 1791, 1792. I will only notice that the description of the valley filled with mist, beginning-" In solemn shapes"-was taken from that beautiful region of which the principal features are Lungarn and Sarnen. Nothing that I ever saw in Nature left a more delightful impression on my mind than that which I have attempted, alas, how feebly! to convey to others in these lines. Those two lakes have always interested me especially, from bearing in their size and other features, a resemblance to those of the north of England. It is much to be deplored that a district so beautiful should be so unhealthy as it is.]



DEAR SIR, However desirous I might have been of giving you proofs of the high place you hold in my esteem, I should have been cautious of wounding your delicacy by thus publicly addressing you, had not the circumstance of our having been companions among the Alps seemed to give this dedication a propriety sufficient to do away any scruples which your modesty might otherwise have suggested.

In inscribing this little work to you, I consult my heart. You know well how great is the difference between two companions lolling in a post-chaise, and two travellers plodding slowly along the road, side by side, each with his little knapsack of necessaries upon his shoulders. How much more of heart between the two latter!

I am happy in being conscious that I shall have one reader who will approach the conclusion of these few pages with regret. You they must

certainly interest, in reminding you of moments to which you can hardly look back without a pleasure not the less dear from a shade of melancholy. You will meet with few images without recollecting the spot where we observed them together; consequently, whatever is feeble in my design, or spiritless in my colouring, will be amply supplied by your

own memory.

With still greater propriety I might have inscribed to you a descrip tion of some of the features of your native mountains, through which we have wandered together, in the same manner, with so much pleasure. But the sea-sunsets, which give such splendour to the vale of Clwyd, Snowden, the chair of Idris, the quiet village of Bethgelert, Menai and her Druids, the Alpine steeps of the Conway, and the still more interesting windings of the wizard stream of the Dee, remain yet untouched. Apprehensive that my pencil may never be exercised on these subjects, I cannot let slip this opportunity of thus publicly assuring you with how

much affection and esteem

I am, dear Sir,

London, 1793.

Most sincerely yours,

Happiness (if she had been to be found on earth) among the charms of Nature -Pleasures of the pedestrian Traveller-Author crosses France to the Alps-Present state of the Grande Chartreuse-Lake of Como-Time, Sunset-Same Scene, Twilight-Same Scene, Morning; its voluptuous Character; Old man and forest-cottage music-River Tusa—Via Mala and Grison Gipsy― Sckellenen-thal-Lake of Uri-Stormy sunset Chapel of William Tell-Force of local emotion-Chamois-chaser-View of the higher Alps-Manner of Life of a Swiss mountaineer, interspersed with views of the higher Alps-Golden Age of the Alps-Life and views continued-Ranz des Vaches, famous Swiss Air-Abbey of Einsiedlen and its pilgrims-Valley of Chamouny-Mont Blanc-Slavery of Savoy -Influence of liberty on cottage-happiness-France-Wish for the Extirpation of Slavery-Conclusion.

WERE there, below, a spot of holy ground

Where from distress a refuge might be found,1
And solitude prepare the soul for heaven;

Sure, nature's God that spot to man had given 2

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