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“From your deportment, Sir! I deem That you
have worn a sword, And will not hold in light esteem
A suffering woman's word;
I might have lain concealed,
Not even to you revealed.
“ Tears might be shed, and I might pray,
Crouching and terrified,
You would in mystery hide;
The knee that bends to adore
This ask I, and no more !
“I speak not of the winter's cold,
For summer's heat exchanged, While I have lodged in this rough hold,
From social life estranged; Nor yet of trouble and alarms :
High Heaven is my defence; And every season has soft arms
For injured Innocence.
“ From Moscow to the Wilderness
It was my choice to come,
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And happy were I, if the Czar
Retain his lawless will,
Or a lamb on a green hill."
“ Are you the Maid," the Stranger cried,
“ From Gallic parents sprung, Whose vanishing was rumoured wide,
Sad theme for every tongue ; Who foiled an Emperor's eager quest ?
You, Lady, forced to wear These rude habiliments, and rest
Your head in this dark lair!”
But wonder, pity, soon were quelled ;
And in her face and mien
Without a veil between :
Kindled 'mid rapturous tears ;
As on the wings of years.
“Such bounty is no gift of chance,"
Exclaimed he; “righteous Heaven,
To me the charge hath given.
Is stormy and self-willed;
His violence is stilled.
wish the course,
go; From that humane and heavenly source,
Good, only good, can flow."
Was eager to depart,
To the Maiden's filial heart.
Light was his step,—his hopes, more light,
Kept pace with his desires;
Of Moscow's glittering spires.
To the lorn Fugitive
As sovereign power could give.
O more than mighty change! If e'er
Amazement rose to pain,
Of something void and vain ; 'Twas when the Parents, who had mourned
So long the lost as dead, Beheld their only Child returned,
The household floor to tread.
Soon gratitude gave way to love
Within the Maiden's breast: Delivered and Deliverer move
In bridal garments drest;
Meek Catherine had her own reward ;
The Czar bestowed a dower; And universal Moscow shared
The triumph of that hour.
Flowers strewed the ground; the nuptial feast
Was held with costly state;
The Foster-parents sate;
They shrank not into shade ;
* Ecclesiastical Sonnets.' DURING the month of December, 1820, I accompanied a muchbeloved and honoured Friend in a walk through different parts of his estate, with a view to fix upon the site of a new Church which he intended to erect. It was one of the most beautiful mornings of a mild season, -—our feelings were in harmony with the cherishing influences of the scene; and such being our purpose, we were naturally led to look back upon past events with wonder and gratitude, and on the future with hope. Not long afterwards, some of the Sonnets which will be found towards the close of this series were produced as a private memorial of that morning's occupation.
The Catholic Question, which was agitated in Parliament about that time, kept my thoughts in the same course ; and it struck me that certain points in the Ecclesiastical History of our Country might advantageously be presented to view in verse. According y, I took up the subject, and what I now offer to the reader was che result.
When this work was far advanced, I was agreeably surprised to find that my friend, Mr. Southey, had been engaged
with simil ır views in writing a concise History of the Church in England. If our Productions, thus unintentionally coinciding, shall be found to illustrate each other, it will prove a high gratification to me, whi:" I am sure my friend will participate.
W. WORDSWORTH. RYDAL MOUNT,
January 24, 1822. For the convenience of passing from one point of the subject to another without shocks of abruptness, this work has taken the shape of a series of Sonnets : but the Reader, it is to be hoped, will find that the pictures are often so closely connected as to have