Unhappy Nuns, whose common breath's a sigh Which they would stifle, move at such a pace! The northern Wind, to call thee to the chase, Must blow to-night his bugle horn. Had I The power of Merlin, Goddess! this should be: And all the stars, fast as the clouds were riven, Should sally forth, to keep thee company, Hurrying and sparkling through the clear blue heaven;

But, Cynthia! should to thee the palm be given, Queen both for beauty and for majesty.

XXIV.

EVEN as a dragon's eye that feels the stress
Of a bedimming sleep, or as a lamp
Suddenly glaring through sepulchral damp,
So burns yon Taper 'mid a black recess
Of mountains, silent, dreary, motionless:
The lake below reflects it not; the sky,
Muffled in clouds, affords no company
To mitigate and cheer its loneliness.
Yet, round the body of that joyless Thing
Which sends so far its melancholy light,
Perhaps are seated in domestic ring
A gay society with faces bright,
Conversing, reading, laughing or they sing,
While hearts and voices in the song unite.

XXV.

THE stars are mansions built by Nature's hand,
And, haply, there the spirits of the blest
Dwell, clothed in radiance, their immortal vest;
Huge Ocean shows, within his yellow strand,
A habitation marvellously planned,
For life to occupy in love and rest;
All that we see-is dome, or vault, or nest,
Or fortress, reared at Nature's sage command.
Glad thought for every season! but the Spring
Gave it while cares were weighing on my heart,
'Mid songs of birds, and insects murmuring;
And while the youthful year's prolific art-

Of bud, leaf, blade, and flower-was fashioning Abodes where self-disturbance hath no part.

XXVI.

DESPONDING Father! mark this altered bougn,
So beautiful of late, with sunshine warmed,
Or moist with dews; what more unsightly now,
Its blossoms shrivelled, and its fruit, if formed,
Invisible? yet Spring her genial brow
Knits not o'er that discolouring and decay
As false to expectation. Nor fret thou
At like unlovely process in the May
Of human life: a Stripling's graces blow,
Fade and are shed, that from their timely fall
(Misdeem it not a cankerous change) may grow
Rich mellow bearings, that for thanks shall call :
In all men, sinful is it to be slow
To hope-in Parents, sinful above all.

XXVII.

CAPTIVITY.-MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS. "As the cold aspect of a sunless way Strikes through the Traveller's frame with deadlier chill,

Oft as appears a grove, or obvious hill,
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 burthen 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!"

XXVIII.

ST CATHERINE OF LEDBURY.
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 E 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
round.

And counted them: and oftentimes will startFor overhead are sweeping GABRIEL'S HOUNDS Doomed, with their impious Lord, the flying Hart

To chase for ever, on aërial grounds!

XXX.

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,

All light and lustre. Did no heart reply?
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.

ΧΧΧΙ.

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

XXXII.

COMPOSED ON THE BANKS OF A ROCKY STREAM.
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
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!

XXXIII.

THIS, AND THE TWO FOLLOWING, WERE SUG-
GESTED BY MR W. WESTALL'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
plants,

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.*

XXXIV.

MALHAM COVE.

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.

XXXV. GORDALE.

AT early dawn, or rather when the air
Glimmers with fading light, and shadowy Eve
Is busiest to confer and to bereave;
Then, pensive Votary! let thy feet repair
To Gordale-chasm, terrific as the lair
Where the young lions couch; for so, by leave
Of the propitious hour, thou may'st perceive
The local Deity, with oozy hair

And mineral crown, beside his jagged urn, Recumbent: Him thou may'st behold, who hides

His lineaments by day, yet there presides,
Teaching the docile waters how to turn,
Or (if need be) impediment to spurn,
And force their passage to the salt-sea tides!

XXXVI.

COMPOSED UPON WESTMINSTER BRIDGE, SEPTEMBER 3, 1802. EARTH has not any thing to show more fair: Dull would he be of soul who could pass by A sight so touching in its majesty: This City now doth, like a garment, wear The beauty of the morning; silent, bare, Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie Open unto the fields, and to the sky; All bright and glittering in the smokeless air. Never did sun more beautifully steep In his first splendour, valley, rock, or hill; Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep! The river glideth at his own sweet will: Dear God! the very houses seem asleep: And all that mighty heart is lying still!

XXXVII. CONCLUSION.

ΤΟ

IF these brief Records, by the Muses' art
Produced as lonely Nature or the strife

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

That animates the scenes of public life *
Inspired, may in their leisure claim a part;
And if these Transcripts of the private heart
Have gained a sanction from thy falling tears;
Then I repent not. But my soul hath fears

Breathed from eternity (for as a dart
Cleaves the blank air, Life flies; now every day
Is but a glimmering spoke in the swift wheel
Of the revolving week. Away, away,
All fitful cares, all transitory zeal!

So timely Grace the immortal wing may heal,
And honour rest upon the senseless clay.

PART III.

1.

THOUGH the bold wings of Poesy affect The clouds, and wheel around the mountain tops

Rejoicing, from her loftiest height she drops Well pleased to skim the plain with wild flowers deckt,

Or muse in solemn grove whose shades protect
The lingering dew-there steals along, or stops
Watching the least small bird that round her
hops,

Or creeping worm, with sensitive respect.
Her functions are they therefore less divine,
Her thoughts less deep, or void of grave intent
Her simplest fancies? Should that fear be thine,
Aspiring Votary, ere thy hand present
One offering, kneel before her modest shrine,
With brow in penitential sorrow bent!

II.

OXFORD, MAY 30, 1820.

YE sacred Nurseries of blooming Youth!
In whose collegiate shelter England's Flowers
Expand, enjoying through their vernal hours
The air of liberty, the light of truth;
Much have ye suffered from Time's gnawing
tooth:

Yet, O ye spires of Oxford ! domes and towers!
Gardens and groves! your presence overpowers
The soberness of reason; till, in sooth,
Transformed, and rushing on a bold exchange,
I slight my own beloved Cam, to range
Where silver Isis leads my stripling feet;
Pace the long avenue, or glide adown
The stream-like windings of that glorious

street

An eager Novice robed in fluttering gown!

III.

OXFORD, MAY 30, 1820. SHAME on this faithless heart! that could allow Such transport, though but for a moment's

space:

Not while-to aid the spirit of the place-
The crescent moon clove with its glittering prow
The clouds, or night-bird sang from shady
bough;

But in plain daylight :-She, too, at my side,
Who, with her heart's experience satisfied,
Maintains inviolate its slightest vow!
Sweet Fancy! other gifts must I receive;
Proofs of a higher sovereignty I claim;

And to that brow life's morning wreath restore;
Let her be comprehended in the frame
Of these illusions, or they please no more.

IV.

RECOLLECTION OF THE PORTRAIT OF KING

HENRY EIGHTH, TRINITY LODGE, CAMBRIDGE.
THE imperial Stature, the colossal stride,
Are yet before me; yet do I behold
The broad full visage, chest of amplest mould,
The vestments 'broidered with barbaric pride:
And lo! a poniard, at the Monarch's side,
Hangs ready to be grasped in sympathy
With the keen threatenings of that fulgent eye,
Below the white-rimmed bonnet, far-descried.
Who trembles now at thy capricious mood?
'Mid those surrounding Worthies, haughty
King,

We rather think, with grateful mind sedate,
How Providence educeth, from the spring
Of lawless will, unlooked-for streams of good
Which neither force shall check nor time abate!
V.

ON THE DEATH OF HIS MAJESTY (GEORGE THE
THIRD).

WARD of the LAW!-dread Shadow of a King!
Whose realm had dwindled to one stately room;
Whose universe was gloom immersed in gloom,
Darkness as thick as life o'er life could fling,
Save haply for some feeble glimmering
Of Faith and Hope-if thou, by nature's doom,
Gently hast sunk into the quiet tomb,
Why should we bend in grief, to sorrow cling,
When thankfulness were best?-Fresh-flowing

FAME tells of groves-from England far away-
*Groves that inspire the Nightingale to trill
And modulate, with subtle reach of skill
Elsewhere unmatched, her ever-varying lay;
Such bold report I venture to gainsay:
For I have heard the quire of Richmond hill
Chanting, with indefatigable bill,

Strains that recalled to mind a distant day;
When, haply under shade of that same wood,
And scarcely conscious of the dashing oars
Plied steadily between those willowy shores,
The sweet-souled Poet of the Seasons stood-
Listening, and listening long, in rapturous mood,
Ye heavenly Birds! to your Progenitors.

VII.

eve,

*This line alludes to Sonnets which will be found in another Class.

Their several features, mingled like the sound Of many waters, or as evening blends

* Wallachia is the country alluded to.

With shady night. Soft airs, from shrub and flower,

Waft fragrant greetings to each silent grave; And while those lofty poplars gently wave Their tops, between them comes and goes a sky Bright as the glimpses of eternity,

To saints accorded in their mortal hour.

VIII.

COMPOSED AMONG THE RUINS OF A CASTLE
IN NORTH WALES.

THROUGH Shattered galleries,'mid roofless halls,
Wandering with timid footsteps oft betrayed,
The Stranger sighs, nor scruples to upbraid
Old Time, though he, gentlest among the Thralls
Of Destiny, upon these wounds hath laid
His lenient touches, soft as light that falls,
From the wan Moon, upon the towers and walls,
Light deepening the profoundest sleep of shade.
Relic of Kings! Wreck of forgotten wars,
To winds abandoned and the prying stars,
Time loves Thee! at his call the Seasons twine
Luxuriant wreaths around thy forehead hoar;
And, though past pomp no changes can restore,
A soothing recompence, his gift, is thine!

IX.

TO THE LADY E. B. AND THE HON. MISS P.

Composed in the Grounds of Plass Newidd, near Llangollen, 1824.

A STREAM, to mingle with your favourite Dee,
Along the VALE of MeditaTION* flows;
So styled by those fierce Britons, pleased to see
In Nature's face the expression of repose;
Or haply there some pious hermit chose
To live and die, the peace of heaven his aim ;
To whom the wild sequestered region owes,
At this late day, its sanctifying name.
GLYN CAFAILLGAROCH, in the Cambrian tongue,
In ours, the VALE OF FRIENDSHIP, let this spot
Be named; where, faithful to a low-roofed Cot,
On Deva's banks, ye have abode so long;
Sisters in love, a love allowed to climb,
Even on this earth, above the reach of Time!

large,

And friends too rarely prop the languid head.
Yet, helped by Genius-untired comforter,
The presence even of a stuffed Owl for her
Can cheat the time; sending her fancy out
To ivied castles and to moonlight skies,
Though he can neither stir a plume, nor shout:
Nor veil, with restless film, his staring eyes.

Like the first summons, Cuckoo! of thy bill,
With its twin notes inseparably paired.
The captive 'mid damp vaults unsunnea, un-
aired,

Measuring the periods of his lonely doom,
That cry can reach; and to the sick man's room
Sends gladness, by no languid smile declared.
The lordly eagle-race through hostile search
May perish; time may come when never more
The wilderness shall hear the lion roar;

But, long as cock shall crow from household

perch

A GRAVE-STONE UPON THE FLOOR IN THE
CLOISTERS OF WORCESTER CATHEDRAL.
"MISERRIMUs!" and neither name nor date,
Prayer, text, or symbol, graven upon the stone;
Nought but that word assigned to the unknown,
That solitary word-to separate

Of him who lies beneath. Most wretched one,
From all, and cast a cloud around the fate
Who chose his epitaph?-Himself alone
Could thus have dared the grave to agitate,
And claim, among the dead, this awful crown;
Nor doubt that He marked also for his own
Close to these cloistral steps a burial-place,
That every foot might fall with heavier tread,
Trampling upon his vileness. Stranger, pass
Softly!-To save the contrite, Jesus bled.