Downward the ponderous timber-wain resounds; In foamy breaks the rill, with merry song, Dashed o'er the rough rock, lightly leaps along; From lonesome chapel at the mountain's feet, Three humble bells their rustic chime repeat; Sounds from the water-side the hammered boat; And blasted quarry thunders, heard remote !

Even here, amid the sweep of endless woods, Blue pomp of lakes, high cliffs and falling floods, Not undelightful are the simplest charms, Found by the grassy door of mountain farms.

Sweetly ferocious,* round his native walks, Pride of his sister-wives, the monarch stalks; Spur-clad his nervous feet, and firm his tread; A crest of purple tops the warrior's head. Bright sparks his black and rolling eyeball hurls Afar, his tail he closes and unfurls;

On tiptoe reared, he strains his clarion throat, Threatened by faintly answering farms remote: Again with his shrill voice the mountain rings, While, flapped with conscious pride, resound his wings!

Where, mixed with graceful birch, the sombrous pine

*"Dolcemente feroce." TASSO. In this description of the cock, I remembered a spirited one of the same animal in L'Agriculture, ou les Géorgiques Françoises, of M. Rossuet.

And yew-tree o'er the silver rocks recline;
I love to mark the quarry's moving trains,

Dwarf panniered steeds, and men, and numerous wains:

How busy all the enormous hive within,

While Echo dallies with its various din !

Some (hear you not their chisels' clinking sound?)
Toil, small as pigmies in the gulf profound;
Some, dim between the lofty cliffs descried,
O'erwalk the slender plank from side to side;
These, by the pale-blue rocks that ceaseless ring,
In airy baskets hanging, work and sing.

Just where a cloud above the mountain rears An edge all flame, the broadening sun appears; A long blue bar its ægis orb divides,

And breaks the spreading of its golden tides;
And now that orb has touched the purple steep
Whose softened image penetrates the deep.
'Cross the calm lake's blue shades the cliffs aspire,
With towers and woods, a 66 prospect all on fire"
:
While coves and secret hollows, through a ray
Of fainter gold, a purple gleam betray.

Each slip of lawn the broken rocks between
Shines in the light with more than earthly green :
Deep yellow beams the scattered stems illume,
Far in the level forest's central gloom :
Waving his hat, the shepherd, from the vale,
Directs his winding dog the cliffs to scale, -
The dog, loud barking, 'mid the glittering rocks,

Hunts, where his master points, the intercepted

flocks.

Where oaks o'erhang the road, the radiance shoots
On tawny earth, wild weeds, and twisted roots;
The druid-stones a brightened ring unfold;
And all the babbling brooks are liquid gold;
Sunk to a curve, the day-star lessens still,
Gives one bright glance, and drops behind the hill.*

In these secluded vales, if village fame, Confirmed by hoary hairs, belief may claim, When up the hills, as now, retired the light, Strange apparitions mocked the shepherd's sight

The form appears of one that spurs his steed
Midway along the hill with desperate speed;
Unhurt pursues his lengthened flight, while all
Attend, at every stretch, his headlong fall.
Anon, appears a brave, a gorgeous show
Of horsemen-shadows moving to and fro;
At intervals imperial banners stream,
And now the van reflects the solar beam;
The rear through iron brown betrays a sullen gleam.
While silent stands the admiring crowd below,
Silent the visionary warriors go,

Winding in ordered pomp their upward way,†

*From Thomson.

† See a description of an appearance of this kind in Clark's Survey of the Lakes, accompanied by vouchers of its veracity, that may amuse the reader.

Till the last banner of their long array
Has disappeared, and every trace is fled
Of splendor save the beacon's spiry head
Tipt with eve's latest gleam of burning red.

Now, while the solemn evening shadows sail, On slowly waving pinions, down the vale; And, fronting the bright west, yon oak entwines Its darkening boughs and leaves, in stronger lines 'Tis pleasant near the tranquil lake to stray, Where, winding on along some secret bay, The swan uplifts his chest, and backward flings His neck, a varying arch, between his towering

wings:

The eye that marks the gliding creature sees
How graceful, pride can be, and how majestic, ease.
While tender cares and mild domestic loves
With furtive watch pursue her as she moves,
The female with a meeker charm succeeds,
And her brown little ones around her leads,
Nibbling the water-lilies as they pass,
Or playing wanton with the floating grass.
She, in a mother's care, her beauty's pride
Forgetting, calls the wearied to her side;
Alternately they mount her back, and rest
Close by her mantling wings' embraces prest.

Long may they float upon this flood serene; Theirs be these holms untrodden, still, and green, Where leafy shades fence off the blustering gale,

And breathes in peace the lily of the vale!
Yon isle, which feels not even the milkmaid's feet,
Yet hears her song, "by distance made more sweet,"
Yon isle conceals their home, their hut-like bower
Green water-rushes overspread the floor;
Long grass and willows form the woven wall,
And swings above the roof the poplar tall.
Thence issuing often with unwieldy stalk,

They crush with broad black feet their flowery walk;

Or, from the neighboring water, hear at morn The hound, the horse's tread, and mellow horn; Involve their serpent-necks in changeful rings, Rolled wantonly between their slippery wings, Or, starting up with noise and rude delight, Force half upon the wave their cumbrous flight.

Fair Swan! by all a mother's joys caressed, Haply some wretch has eyed, and called thee blessed;

When with her infants, from some shady seat
By the lake's edge, she rose to face the noontide

heat;

-

Or taught their limbs along the dusty road
A few short steps to totter with their load.

I see her now, denied to lay her head, On cold blue nights, in hut or straw-built shed, Furn to a silent smile their sleepy cry, By pointing to the gliding moon on high.