Or, like a Mermaid, warbles on the And chanted hymns and stiller voice of shores prayer, To fishers mending nets beside their For the old Manx-harvest to the Deep Then haply, Beaumont! words in current clear Will flow, and on a welcome page appear repair, Soon as the herring-shoals at distance shine 75 Like beds of moonlight shifting on the brine. Mona from our Abode is daily seen, But with a wilderness of waves between; And by conjecture only can we speak Of aught transacted there in bay or creek; No tidings reach us thence from town or field, 81 Only faint news her mountain-sunbeams yield, And some we gather from the misty air, And some the hovering clouds, our tele graph, declare. But these poetic mysteries I withhold: 35 For Fancy hath her fits both hot and cold, And should the colder fit with You be on Duly before thy sight, unless they perish When You might read, my credit would here. be gone. grief Up many a sharply-twining road and The Master died, his drooping servant's down, And over many a wide hill's craggy Found at the Widow's feet some sad From the peat-yielding Moss on Gowdar's And of all visible motion destitute, head. So that the very heaving of his breath Seemed stopt, though by some other power than death. What could go wrong with such a Charioteer For goods and chattels, or those Infants A Pair who smilingly sat side by side, 115 Whose free embraces we were bound to seek, Long as we gazed upon the form and face, That haunted us in spite of what we Even now I sometimes think of him as lost Would their lost strength restore and In second-sight appearances, or crost freshen the pale cheek? Such hope did either Parent entertain s well we knew, together had grown Her work and her work's partners she grey. 1 A local word for sledge. can cheer, The whole day long, and all days of the year. Thus gladdened from our own dear Half hid in native trees. Alas 'tis not, Vale we pass And soon approach Diana's Looking-glass! To Loughrigg-tarn, round clear and bright as heaven, 166 Nor ever was; I sighed, and left the spot Unconscious of its own untoward lot, 195 And thought in silence, with regret too keen, Such name Italian fancy would have Of unexperienced joys that might have Within the mirror's depth, a world at Startling us all, dispersed my reverie; A shadowy link 'tween wakefulness and And vocal wishes sent of like good will 1 A word common in the country, signifying And mountain-tops, a barren ridge w shelter, as in Scotland. scale; And Strangers even the slighted Scroll may prize, Moved by the touch of kindred sympathies. For-save the calm repentance sheds o'er strife Raised by remembrances of misused life, The light from past endeavours purely willed ΙΟ And by Heaven's favour happily fulfilled; Save hope that we, yet bound to Earth, may share The joys of the Departed-what so fair As blameless pleasure, not without some tears, Reviewed through Love's transparent veil of years? 15 Note.-LOUGHRIGG TARN, alluded to in the fore. going Epistle, resembles, though much smaller in compass, the Lake Nemi, or Speculum Dianæ as it is often called, not only in its clear waters and circular form, and the beauty immediately surrounding it, but also as being overlooked by the eminence of Langdale Pikes as Lake Nemi is by that of Monte Calvo. Since this Epistle was written Loughrigg Tarn has lost much of its beauty by the felling of many natural clumps of wood, relics of the old forest, particularly upon the farm called "The Oaks," from the abundance of that tree which grew there. It is to be regretted, upon public grounds, that Sir George Beaumont did not carry into effect his intention of constructing here a Summer Retreat in the style I have described; as his taste would have set an example how buildings, with all the accommodations modern society requires, might be introduced even into the most secluded parts of this country without injuring their native character. The design was not abandoned from failure of inclination on his part, but in consequence of local untowardness which need not be particularised. II. GOLD AND SILVER FISHES IN A VASE. [Composed 1829.-Published 1885.] THE soaring lark is blest as proud When at heaven's gate she sings; The roving bee proclaims aloud Her flight by vocal wings; Have meanings of their own; Type of a sunny human breast How beautiful!-Yet none knows why For mutual pleasure glide; Are dwarfed, or magnified? Fays, Genii of gigantic size! When the fierce orbs abate their glare;- Cold though your nature be, 'tis pure; Ah! not alone by colours bright Are Ye to heaven allied, For day-dreams soft as e'er beguiled Your gift, ere shutters close-- 30 |