STEAMBOATS, VIADUCTS, AND RAILWAYS.
MOTIONS and Means, on land and sea at war With old poetic feeling, not for this,
Shall ye, by Poets even, be judged amiss! Nor shall your presence, howsoe'er it mar The loveliness of Nature, prove a bar To the Mind's gaining that prophetic sense Of future change, that point of vision, whence May be discovered what in soul ye are. In spite of all that beauty may disown In your harsh features, Nature doth embrace Her lawful offspring in Man's art; and Time, Pleased with your triumphs o'er his brother Space, Accepts from your bold hands the proffered crown Of hope, and smiles on you with cheer sublime.
THE MONUMENT COMMONLY CALLED LONG MEG AND HER DAUGHTERS, NEAR THE RIVER EDEN.
A WEIGHT of awe, not easy to be borne, Fell suddenly upon my Spirit-cast
From the dread bosom of the unknown past, When first I saw that family forlorn.
Speak Thou, whose massy strength and stature scorn The power of years--pre-eminent, and placed Apart, to overlook the circle vast-
Speak, Giant-mother! tell it to the Morn While she dispels the cumbrous shades of Night; Let the Moon hear, emerging from a cloud; At whose behest uprose on British ground That Sisterhood, in hieroglyphic round Forth-shadowing, some have deemed, the infinite The inviolable God, that tames the proud *!
["CATHEDRAL pomp." It may be questioned whether this union was in the contemplation of the artist when he planned the edifice. However this might be, a poet may be excused for taking the view of the subject presented in this Sonnet.]
LOWTHER! in thy majestic Pile are seen Cathedral pomp and grace, in apt accord With the baronial castle's sterner mien; Union significant of God adored,
And charters won and guarded by the sword Of ancient honour; whence that goodly state Of polity which wise men venerate, And will maintain, if God his help afford. Hourly the democratic torrent swells; For airy promises and hopes suborned
The strength of backward-looking thoughts is scorned. Fall if ye must, ye Towers and Pinnacles,
With what ye symbolise; authentic Story Will say, Ye disappeared with England's Glory!
'Magistratus indicat virum.'
LONSDALE! it were unworthy of a Guest, Whose heart with gratitude to thee inclines, If he should speak, by fancy touched, of signs On thy Abode harmoniously imprest,
Yet be unmoved with wishes to attest How in thy mind and moral frame agree Fortitude, and that Christian Charity Which, filling, consecrates the human breast. And if the Motto on thy 'scutcheon teach
With truth, ‘THE MAGISTRACY SHOWS THE MAN;' That searching test thy public course has stood; As will be owned alike by bad and good, Soon as the measuring of life's little span Shall place thy virtues out of Envy's reach *.
[THIS poem might be dedicated to my friends, Sir G. Beaumont and Mr. Rogers jointly. While we were making an excursion together in this part of the Lake District we heard that Mr. Glover, the artist, while lodging at Lyulph's Tower, had been disturbed by a loud shriek, and upon rising he had learnt that it had come from a young woman in the house who was in the habit of walking in her sleep. In that state she had gone down stairs, and, while attempting to open the outer door, either from some difficulty or the effect of the cold stone upon ber feet, had uttered the cry which alarmed him. It seemed to us all that this might serve as a hint for a poem, and the story here told was constructed and soon after put into verse by me as it now stands.]
LIST, ye who pass by Lyulph's Tower* At eve; how softly then
Doth Aira-force, that torrent hoarse, Speak from the woody glen!
Fit music for a solemn vale!
And holier seems the ground To him who catches on the gale The spirit of a mournful tale, Embodied in the sound.
Not far from that fair site whereon The Pleasure-house is reared,
As story says, in antique days
A stern-browed house appeared; Foil to a Jewel rich in light
* A pleasure-house built by the late Duke of Norfolk upon the banks of Ullswater. FORCE is the word used in the Lake District for Water-fall.
There set, and guarded well; Cage for a Bird of plumage bright, Sweet-voiced, nor wishing for a flight Beyond her native dell.
To win this bright Bird from her cage, To make this Gem their own, Came Barons bold, with store of gold, And Knights of high renown; But one She prized, and only one; Sir Eglamore was he;
Full happy season, when was known, Ye Dales and Hills! to you alone Their mutual loyalty-
Known chiefly, Aira! to thy glen, Thy brook, and bowers of holly; Where Passion caught what Nature taught, That all but love is folly;
Where Fact with Fancy stooped to play; Doubt came not, nor regret— To trouble hours that winged their way, As if through an immortal day Whose sun could never set.
But in old times Love dwelt not long Sequestered with repose;
Best throve the fire of chaste desire, Fanned by the breath of foes. "A conquering lance is beauty's test, "And proves the Lover true;" So spake Sir Eglamore, and pressed The drooping Emma to his breast, And looked a blind adieu.
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