"BEGONE, thou fond presumptuous Elf," "Nor dare to thrust thy foolish self Between me and my choice!" A small Cascade fresh swoln with snows § * This stanza is not in the Edition of 1815. Let, as old Magellan did, Others roam about the sea.-Edit. 1815. Exclaimed a thundering voice.-Edit. 1815. § A falling water swollen with snow.-Edit. 1815. That, all bespattered with his foam, And dancing high and dancing low, Was living, as a child might know, II. "Dost thou presume my course to block? I'll hurl thee headlong with the rock The Flood was tyrannous and strong ; Hoping the danger would be past; But, seeing no relief, at last, He ventured to reply. III. "Ah!" said the Briar, “blame me not ; Why should we dwell in strife? We who in this sequestered spot Once lived a happy life! You stirred me on my rocky bed— What pleasure through my veins you spread The summer long, from day to day, My leaves you freshened and bedewed ; Nor was it common gratitude That did your cares repay. IV. When spring came on with bud and bell, Among these rocks did I Before you hang my wreaths to tell That gentle days were nigh! M And in the sultry summer hours, I sheltered you with leaves and flowers ; V. But now proud thoughts are in your breast— What grief is mine you see, Ah! would you think, even yet how blest Together we might be ! Though of both leaf and flower bereft, Some ornaments to me are left Rich store of scarlet hips is mine, VI. What more he said I cannot tell, *The torrent thundered down the dell 1800. TO A SKY-LARK. Up with me! up with me into the clouds ! For thy song, Lark, is strong; Up with me, up with me into the clouds ! With clouds and sky about thee ringing, That spot which seems so to thy mind! I have walked through wildernesses dreary And to-day my heart is weary; Had I now the wings of a Faery, Up to thee would I fly. There is madness about thee, and joy divine In that song of thine ; Lift me, guide me high and high To thy banqueting-place in the sky. Joyous as morning, Thou art laughing and scorning; Thou hast a nest for thy love and thy rest, With a soul as strong as a mountain river * Up with me, up with me, high and high.-Edit. 1815. Alas! my journey, rugged and uneven, As full of gladness and as free of heaven, And hope for higher raptures, when life's day is done.* 1805. TO A SEXTON. LET thy wheel-barrow alone- In thy bone-house bone on bone? In a field of battle made, Where three thousand skulls are laid ; These died in peace each with the other, Father, sister, friend, and brother. Mark the spot to which I point Take not even a finger-joint : Andrew's whole fire-side is there. Here, alone, before thine eyes, Simon's sickly daughter lies, From weakness now, and pain defended, *In the Edition of 1815 the last stanza runs thus: Hearing thee, or else some other, As merry a brother, I on the earth will go plodding on By myself, cheerfully, till the day is done. |