That errand-bound 'Prentice was passing in haste-What matter! he's caught-and his time runs to waste; The Newsman is stopped, though he stops on the fret; Ar the corner of Wood Street, when daylight And the half-breathless Lamplighter-he's in the appears, net! The Porter sits down on the weight which he bore; He stands, backed by the wall;—he abates not his His hat gives him vigour, with boons dropping in, and there! The one-pennied Boy has his penny to spare. O blest are the hearers, and proud be the hand I am glad for him, blind as he is!—all the while smile. That tall Man, a giant in bulk and in height, Mark that Cripple who leans on his crutch; like a tower AN Orpheus! an Orpheus! yes, Faith may grow bold, name. His station is there; and he works on the crowd, What an eager assembly! what an empire is this! hour! XV. STAR-GAZERS. Does, then, a deep and earnest thought the blissful mind employ Of him who gazes, or has gazed? a grave and steady joy, WHAT Crowd is this? what have we here! we must That doth reject all show of pride, admits no out The Show-man chooses well his place, 'tis Leicester's Seem to meet with little gain, seem less happy than busy Square; And is as happy in his night, for the heavens are blue and fair; before: One after One they take their turn, nor have I one espied Calm, though impatient, is the crowd; each stands That doth not slackly go away, as if dissatisfied. ready with the fee, 1806. WHILE RESTING ON THE BRIDGE AT THE FOOT OF BROTHER'S WATER. THE Cock is crowing, The stream is flowing, The lake doth glitter, The green field sleeps in the sun; Their heads never raising; There are forty feeding like one! Like an army defeated On the top of the bare hill; 1801. XVII. LYRE! though such power do in thy magic live Assist me to detain The lovely Fugitive: Check with thy notes the impulse which, betrayed By her sweet farewell looks, I longed to aid. By reason fenced from winds that sigh But if no wish be hers that we should part, Where all things are so fair, Enough by her dear side to breathe the air And, on or in, or near, the brook, espy Faint and somewhat pensively; With its upright living tree Mid silver clouds, and openings of blue sky Nor less the joy with many a glance Or watch, with mutual teaching, The current as it plays In flashing leaps and stealthy creeps Or note (translucent summer's happiest chance!) XVIII. BEGGARS. SHE had a tall man's height or more; No bonnet shaded, but she wore And on her head a cap as white as new-fallen snow. Her skin was of Egyptian brown: To lead those ancient Amazonian files; Or ruling Bandit's wife among the Grecian isles. Advancing, forth she stretched her hand And begged an alms with doleful plea And yet a boon I gave her, for the creature I left her, and pursued my way; A pair of little Boys at play, The taller followed with his hat in hand, Wreathed round with yellow flowers the gayest of the land. The other wore a rimless crown In their fraternal features I could trace Unquestionable lines of that wild Suppliant's face. Yet they, so blithe of heart, seemed fit For finest tasks of earth or air: Wings let them have, and they might flit Scattering fresh flowers; though happier far, I ween, To hunt their fluttering game o'er rock and level green. They dart across my path-but lo, Your Mother has had alms of mine." "That cannot be," one answered-"she is dead:"I looked reproof-they saw-but neither hung his head. "She has been dead, Sir, many a day.”— It was your Mother, as I say!" 1802. L2 XX. XIX. SEQUEL TO THE FOREGOING, COMPOSED MANY YEARS AFTER. WHERE are they now, those wanton Boys? With tools for ready wit to guide; More fresh, more bright, than princes wear; What good or evil have they seen They met me in a genial hour, As with the breath of one sweet flower,- Of discontent, and check the birth Of thoughts with better thoughts at strife, Soft clouds, the whitest of the year, Sailed through the sky-the brooks ran clear; The thoughts with which it then was cheered; That they, so happy and so fair Through your sweet influence, and the care 1817. GIPSIES. YET are they here the same unbroken knot Men, women, children, yea the frame Their bed of straw and blanket-walls. -Twelve hours, twelve bounteous hours are gone, while I Have been a traveller under open sky, Much witnessing of change and cheer, The glorious path in which he trod. As on their silent tasks they move! XXI. RUTH. WHEN Ruth was left half desolate, Her Father took another Mate; And Ruth, not seven years old, A slighted child, at her own will Went wandering over dale and hill, In thoughtless freedom, bold. And she had made a pipe of straw, 1807. |