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Glistening with unparticipated ray,

Or shining slope where he must never stray;
So joys, remembered without wish or will,
Sharpen the keenest edge of present ill, -
On the crushed heart a heavier burden lay.
Just Heaven, contract the compass of my mind
To fit proportion with my altered state!
Quench those felicities whose light I find
Reflected in my bosom all too late!

O be my spirit, like my thraldom, strait;
And, like mine eyes that stream with sorrow, blind!"




WHEN human touch (as monkish books attest)
Nor was applied nor could be, Ledbury bells
Broke forth in concert flung adown the dells,
And upward, high as Malvern's cloudy crest;
Sweet tones, and caught by a noble lady blest
To rapture!. Mabel listened at the side
Of her loved mistress: soon the music died,
And Catherine said, Here I set up my rest.
Warned in a dream, the Wanderer long had sought
A home that by such miracle of sound
Must be revealed:- she heard it now, or felt
The deep, deep joy of a confiding thought;
And there, a saintly Anchoress, she dwelt

Till she exchanged for heaven that happy ground.

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-"gives to airy nothing

A local habitation and a name."

THOUGH narrow be that old Man's cares, and near,
The poor old Man is greater than he seems:
For he hath waking empire, wide as dreams;
An ample sovereignty of eye and ear.
Rich are his walks with supernatural cheer;
The region of his inner spirit teems
With vital sounds and monitory gleams
Of high astonishment and pleasing fear.

He the seven birds hath seen, that never part,
Seen the SEVEN WHISTLERS in their nightly


And counted them: and oftentimes will start,
For overhead are sweeping GABRIEL'S HOUNDS,
Doomed, with their impious Lord, the flying Hart
To chase for ever, on aërial grounds!


FOUR fiery steeds impatient of the rein
Whirled us o'er sunless ground beneath a sky
As void of sunshine, when, from that wide plain,
Clear tops of far-off mountains we descry,
Like a Sierra of cerulean Spain,

Did no heart reply?

All light and lustre.
Yes, there was One ;

for One, asunder fly

The thousand links of that ethereal chain


And green vales open out, with grove and field,
And the fair front of many a happy Home;
Such tempting spots as into vision come
While soldiers, weary of the arms they wield
And sick at heart of strifeful Christendom,
Gaze on the moon by parting clouds revealed.


BROOK! whose society the poet seeks.
Intent his wasted spirits to renew ;

And whom the curious painter doth pursue
Through rocky passes, among flowery creeks,
And tracks thee dancing down thy water-breaks;
If wish were mine some type of thee to view,
Thee, and not thee thyself, I would not do
Like Grecian artists, give thee human cheeks,
Channels for tears; no Naiad shouldst thou be,
Have neither limbs, feet, feathers, joints, nor hairs
It seems the Eternal Soul is clothed in thee.
With purer robes than those of flesh and blood,
And hath bestowed on thee a safer good;
Unwearied joy, and life without its cares.




DOGMATIC Teachers, of the snow-white fur! Ye wrangling Schoolmen, of the scarlet hood!

Who, with a keenness not to be withstood,

Press the point home, or falter and demur, Checked in your course by many a teasing burr; These natural council-seats your acrid blood

Might cool; and, as the Genius of the flood

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Stoops willingly to animate and spur

Each lighter function slumbering in the brain,
Yon eddying balls of foam, these arrowy gleams
That o'er the pavement of the surging streams
Welter and flash, a synod might detain
With subtle speculations, haply vain,

But surely less so than your far-fetched themes!


This, and the two following, were suggested by Mr. W. West. all's Views of the Caves, etc., in Yorkshire.

PURE element of waters! wheresoe'er

Thou dost forsake thy subterranean haunts,
Green herbs, bright flowers, and berry-bearing


Rise into life and in thy train appear:

And, through the sunny portion of the year,
Swift insects shine, thy hovering pursuivants :
And, if thy bounty fail, the forest pants;
And hart and hind, and hunter with his spear,
Languish and droop together. Nor unfelt
In man's perturbed soul thy sway benign;
And, haply, far within the marble belt
Of central earth, where tortured Spirits pine

For grace and goodness lost, thy murmurs melt Their anguish, and they blend sweet songs with thine.*

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WAS the aim frustrated by force or guile,
When giants scooped from out the rocky ground,
Tier under tier, this semicirque profound?
(Giants, the same who built in Erin's isle
That Causeway with incomparable toil!) —
O, had this vast theatric structure wound
With finished sweep into a perfect round,
No mightier work had gained the plausive smile

Of all-beholding Phoebus! But, alas!

Vain earth! false world! Foundations must be laid

In Heaven; for, 'mid the wreck of Is and was,
Things incomplete and purposes betrayed
Make sadder transits o'er thought's optic glass
Than noblest objects utterly decayed.



AT early dawn, or rather when the air
Glimmers with fading light, and shadowy Eve

*Waters (as Mr. Westall informs us in the letter-press prefixed to his admirable views) are invariably found to flow through these caverns.

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