by glaciers and melting snows. A traveller observing the exquisite purity of the great rivers, such as the Rhone at Geneva, and the Reuss at Lucerne, when they issue out of their respective lakes, might fancy for a moment that some power in nature produced this beautiful change, with a view to make amends for those Alpine sullyings which the waters exhibit near their fountain heads; but, alas! how soon does that purity depart before the influx of tributary waters that have flowed through cultivated plains and the crowded abodes of men.—I. F.] Included by Wordsworth among his "Poems founded on the Affections."-ED. THE peace which others seek they find; When will my sentence be reversed? O weary struggle! silent years 5 ΙΟ REPENTANCE A PASTORAL BALLAD Composed 1804.-Published 1820 [Written at Town-end, Grasmere. Suggested by the conversation of our next neighbour, Margaret Ashburner.-I. F.] This "next neighbour" is constantly referred to in Dorothy Wordsworth's Grasmere Journal. Included in 1820 among the "Poems of Sentiment and Reflection"; in 1827, and afterwards, it was classed with those "founded on the Affections."-ED. THE fields which with covetous spirit we sold, Would have brought us more good than a burthen of gold,1 When the troublesome Tempter beset us, said I, 5 "Let him come, with his purse proudly grasped in his hand; But, Allan, be true to me, Allan,-we'll die 2 Before he shall go with an inch of the land!” There dwelt we, as happy as birds in their bowers ; ΙΟ We could do what we liked 3 with the land, it was ours; But now we are strangers, go early or late; With my hand on the latch of the half-opened gate,4 15 1 1820. the delight of our day, MS. O fools that we were-we had land which we sold MS. MS. The fields that together contentedly lay Would have done us more good than another man's gold 2 1820. MS. When the bribe of the Tempter beset us, said I, MS. 5 1820. When my hand has half-lifted the latch of the gate, MS. When I walk by the hedge on a bright summer's day, Or sit in the shade of my grandfather's tree, A stern face it puts on, as if ready to say, "What ails you, that you must come creeping to me!" 21 With our pastures about us, we could not be sad ; We slighted them all,—and our birth-right was lost.1 Oh, ill-judging sire of an innocent son 25 Who must now be a wanderer! but peace to that strain ! Think of evening's repose when our labour was done, 30 And in sickness, if night had been sparing of sleep, Now I cleave to the house, and am dull as a snail; That follows the thought vale, We've no land in the 35 Save six feet of earth where our forefathers lie! But the blessings, and comfort, and wealth that we had, 1820 and MS. But we traitorously gave the best friend that we had MS. 2 1820. When my sick crazy body had lain without sleep, MS. ADDRESS TO MY INFANT DAUGHTER, DORA,* ON BEING REMINDED THAT SHE WAS A MONTH OLD THAT DAY, SEPTEMBER 16 Composed September 16, 1804.-Published 1815 Included by Wordsworth among his "Poems of the Fancy.” -ED. -HAST thou then survived Mild Offspring of infirm humanity, Meek Infant! among all forlornest things But what is time? What outward glory? neither A measure is of Thee, whose claims extend Through "heaven's eternal year." †-Yet hail to Thee, 15 Not idly. Hadst thou been of Indian birth, Couched on a casual bed of moss and leaves, 20 On the blank plains,—the coldness of the night, 25 * The title from 1815 to 1845 was Address to my Infant Daughter, on being reminded that she was a Month old, on that Day. After her death in 1847, her name was added to the title.-ED. † See Dryden's poem, To the pious memory of the accomplished young lady, Mrs. Anne Killigrew, I. 1. 15.—ED. Have scored thine age, and punctually timed Who might have wandered with thee.-Mother's love, Will, among us warm-clad and warmly housed, Do for thee what the finger of the heavens Though strong, is, in the main, a joyless tie 30 35 40 45 And first; thy sinless progress, through a world Apt likeness bears to hers, through gathered clouds, And cheering oft-times their reluctant gloom. 50 Fair are ye both, and both are free from stain : But thou, how leisurely thou fill'st thy horn With brightness! leaving her to post along, 55 60 |