Dependent as in part its blessings are
Upon frail ties dissolving or dissolved

On earth, will be revived, we trust, in heaven.*

[This quatrain was extempore on observing this image, as I had often done, on the lawn of Rydal Mount. It was first written down in the Album of my God-daughter, Rotha Quillinan.]

SMALL service is true service while it lasts.

Of humblest Friends, bright Creature! scorn not one;
The Daisy, by the shadow that it casts,
Protects the lingering dew-drop from the Sun.t

LINES

WRITTEN IN THE ALBUM OF THE COUNTESS OF LONSDALE,3 Nov. 5, 1834.

[This is a faithful picture of that amiable Lady, as she then was. The youthfulness of figure and demeanour and habits, which she

1 The original title was 'Written in an Album.' Of Friends, however humble, scorn not one

2

1835.

1835.

* In the class entitled "Musing," in Mr Southey's Minor Poems, is one upon his own miniature Picture, taken in childhood, and another upon a landscape painted by Gaspar Poussin. It is possible that every word of the above verses, though similar in subject, might have been written had the author been unacquainted with those beautiful effusions of poetic sentiment. But, for his own satisfaction, he must be allowed thus publicly to acknowledge the pleasure those two Poems of his Friend have given him, and the grateful influence they have upon his mind as often as he reads them, or thinks of them.-W. W., 1835.

+ Compare the lines, written in 1845, beginning-

"So fair, so sweet, withal so sensitive."

-ED.

retained in almost unprecedented degree, departed a very few years after, and she died without violent disease by gradual decay before she reached the period of old age.]

LADY! a Pen (perhaps with thy regard,

Among the Favoured, favoured not the least)
Left, 'mid the Records of this Book inscribed,
Deliberate traces, registers of thought

And feeling, suited to the place and time

That gave them birth-months passed, and still this hand,

That had not been too timid to imprint

Words which the virtues of thy Lord inspired,
Was yet not bold enough to write of Thee.
And why that scrupulous reserve? In sooth
The blameless cause lay in the Theme itself.
Flowers are there many that delight to strive
With the sharp wind, and seem to court the shower,
Yet are by nature careless of the sun

Whether he shine on them or not; and some,
Where'er he moves along the unclouded sky,
Turn a broad front full on his flattering beams:
Others do rather from their notice shrink,
Loving the dewy shade,-a humble band,

Modest and sweet, a progeny of earth,

Congenial with thy mind and character,
High-born Augusta!

Witness Towers, and Groves!

And Thou, wild Stream, that giv'st the honoured namet

Of Lowther to this ancient Line, bear witness1

From thy most secret haunts; and ye Parterres,

*

1 1837.

Towers, and stately Groves,

Bear witness for me; thou, too, Mountain-stream!

1835.

* The Lowther stream passes the Castle, and joins the Eamont below Brougham Hall, near Penrith.-ED.

Which She is pleased and proud to call her own,
Witness how oft upon my noble Friend

Mute offerings, tribute from an inward sense

Of admiration and respectful love,

Have waited-till the affections could no more
Endure that silence, and broke out in song,
Snatches of music taken up and dropt
Like those self-solacing, those under, notes
Trilled by the redbreast, when autumnal leaves
Are thin upon the bough. Mine, only mine,
The pleasure was, and no one heard the praise,
Checked, in the moment of its issue, checked
And reprehended, by a fancied blush

From the pure qualities that called it forth.

Thus Virtue lives debarred from Virtue's meed; Thus, Lady, is retiredness a veil

That, while it only spreads a softening charm
O'er features looked at by discerning eyes,
Hides half their beauty from the common gaze ;
And thus, even on the exposed and breezy hill
Of lofty station, female goodness walks,
When side by side with lunar gentleness,
As in a cloister. Yet the grateful Poor
(Such the immunities of low estate,
Plain Nature's enviable privilege,

Her sacred recompence for many wants)
Open their hearts before Thee, pouring out

All that they think and feel, with tears of joy,

And benedictions not unheard in heaven :

And friend in the ear of friend, where speech is free

To follow truth, is eloquent as they.

Then let the Book receive in these prompt lines A just memorial; and thine eyes consent

To read that they who mark thy course behold
A life declining with the golden light

Of summer, in the season of sere leaves;
See cheerfulness undamped by stealing Time;
See studied kindness flow with easy stream.
Illustrated with inborn courtesy ;

And an habitual disregard of self
Balanced by vigilance for others' weal

And shall the Verse not tell of lighter gifts
With these ennobling attributes conjoined
And blended, in peculiar harmony,

By Youth's surviving spirit? What agile grace!
A nymph-like liberty, in nymph-like form,
Beheld with wonder; whether floor or path

Thou tread; or sweep-borne on the managed steed-1
Fleet as the shadows, over down or field,

Driven by strong winds at play among the clouds.

Yet one word more-one farewell word-a wish
Which came, but it has passed into a prayer-
That, as thy sun in brightness is declining,
So at an hour yet distant for their sakes
Whose tender love, here faltering on the way
Of a diviner love, will be forgiven-

So may it set in peace, to rise again
For everlasting glory won by faith.

1 1837.

Thou tread, or on the managed steed art borne,

1835.

1835.

Two Evening Voluntaries, two Elegies (on the deaths of Charles Lamb and James Hogg), the lines on the Bird of Paradise, and a few sonnets, make up the poems belonging to the year 1835.

[In the month of January,-when Dora and I were walking from Town-end, Grasmere, across the Vale, snow being on the ground, she espied, in the thick though leafless hedge, a bird's nest half filled with snow. Out of this comfortless appearance arose this Sonnet, which was, in fact, written without the least reference to any individual object, but merely to prove to myself that I could, if I thought fit, write in a strain that Poets have been fond of. On the 14th of February in the same year, my daughter, in a sportive mood, sent it as a Valentine, under a fictitious name, to her cousin C. W.]

WHY art thou silent?

Is thy love a plant Of such weak fibre that the treacherous air Of absence withers what was once so fair? Is there no debt to pay, no boon to grant ? Yet have my thoughts for thee been vigilant Bound to thy service with unceasing care, The mind's least generous wish a mendicant For nought but what thy happiness could spare. Speak-though this soft warm heart, once free to hold A thousand tender pleasures, thine and mine,

Be left more desolate, more dreary cold Than a forsaken bird's-nest filled with snow 'Mid its own bush of leafless eglantine

Speak, that my torturing doubts their end may know !