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The bird, who ceased, with fading light, to thread
Silent the hedge or steamy rivulet's bed,1
From his grey re-appearing tower shall soon
Salute with gladsome note the rising moon,
While with a hoary light she frosts the ground,
And pours a deeper blue to Æther's bound;
Pleased, as she moves, her pomp of clouds to fold
In robes of azure, fleecy-white, and gold.2

Above yon eastern hill,3 where darkness broods
O'er all its vanished dells, and lawns, and woods;
Where but a mass of shade the sight can trace,
Even now she shows, half-veiled, her lovely face: 4
Across 5 the gloomy valley flings her light,
Far to the western slopes with hamlets white;
And gives, where woods the chequered upland strew,
To the green corn of summer, autumn's hue.

1 1836.

The bird, with fading light who ceas'd to thread
Silent the hedge or steaming rivulet's bed,

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1793.

The bird, who ceased, with fading light, to thread

1815.

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1836.

Salute with boding note the rising moon,
Frosting with hoary light the pearly ground,

And pouring deeper blue to Æther's bound;
Rejoic'd her solemn pomp of clouds to fold
In robes of azure, fleecy white, and gold,
While rose and poppy, as the glow-worm fades,
Checquer with paler red the thicket shades.

1793.

The last two lines occur only in the edition of 1793.

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Thus Hope, first pouring from her blessed horn
Her dawn, far lovelier than the moon's own morn,
'Till higher mounted, strives in vain to cheer
The weary hills, impervious, blackening near;
Yet does she still, undaunted, throw the while
On darling spots remote her tempting smile.

Even now she decks for me a distant scene,
(For dark and broad the gulf of time between)
Gilding that cottage with her fondest ray,
(Sole bourn, sole wish, sole object of my way;
How fair its lawns and sheltering 1 woods appear!
How sweet its streamlet murmurs in mine ear!)
Where we, my Friend, to happy 2 days shall rise,
'Till our small share of hardly-paining sighs
(For sighs will ever trouble human breath)
Creep hushed into the tranquil breast of death.

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But now the clear bright Moon her zenith gains, And, rimy without speck, extend the plains: The deepest cleft the mountain's front displays 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.4

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

1793.

1820.

4 1836.

The scene is waken'd, yet its peace unbroke,

By silver'd wreaths of quiet charcoal smoke,

That, o'er the ruins of the fallen wood,

Steal down the hills, and spread along the flood.

1793.

*

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,1
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; 2
Sound of closed gate, across the water borne,
Hurrying the timid 3 hare through rustling corn;
The sportive outcry of the mocking owl; 4
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.

1 1836.

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But the soft murmur of swift-gushing rills,
Forth issuing from the mountain's distant steep

(Unheard till now, and now scarce heard), proclaim'd

All things at rest.

This Dr. John Brown-a singularly versatile English divine (1717-1766) — was one of the first, as Wordsworth pointed out, to lead the way to a true estimate of the English Lakes. His description of the Vale of Keswick, in a letter to a friend, is as fine as anything in Gray's Journal. Wordsworth himself quotes the lines given in this footnote in the first section of his Guide through the District of the Lakes.-ED.

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LINES

WRITTEN WHILE SAILING IN A BOAT AT EVENING

Composed 1789.-Published 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.-I. F.]

The title of the poem in 1798, when it consisted of five stanzas, was Lines written near Richmond, upon the Thames, at Evening. When, in the edition of 1800, it was divided, the title of the first part was, Lines written when sailing in a Boat at Evening; that of the second part was Lines written near Richmond upon the Thames.

From 1815 to 1843, both poems were placed by Wordsworth among those "of Sentiment and Reflection." In 1845 they were transferred to "Poems written in Youth.”—ED.

How richly glows the water's breast
Before us, tinged with evening hues,1
While, facing thus the crimson west,
The boat her silent course 2 pursues!

And see how dark the backward stream!

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A little moment past so smiling!
And still, perhaps, with faithless gleam,
Some other loiterers 3 beguiling.

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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.
—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?

ΙΟ

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REMEMBRANCE OF COLLINS

COMPOSED UPON THE THAMES NEAR RICHMOND *
Composed 1789.-Published 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

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1 1800.

Such heart did once the poet bless,

1798.

* The title in the editions 1802-1815 was Remembrance of Collins, written upon the Thames near Richmond.-ED.

+ Compare the After-thought to "The River Duddon. A Series of Sonnets":

VOL. I

Still glides the Stream, and shall for ever glide.-ED.

D

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