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O winged bark! how swift along the night 0 206. Song Love. COLERIDGE.
And feed his sacred flame.
Live o'er again that happy hour,
Beside the ruin's tower. 8 203. Sonnet written under the Engraving The moonshine, stealing o'er the scene,
of a Portrait of Rafael, painted by himself Had blended with the lights of eve; when he was young. L. Hunt.
And she was there, my hope, my joy,' RAFAEL ! It must be he; we only miss [fair; My own dear Genevieve! Something which manhood gave him, and the She leant against the armed man, A look still sweeter and more thoughtful air ; The statue of the armed knight; But for the rest, 'tis every feature his,
She stood and listen'd to my lay,
Amid the lingering light.
Few sorrows hath she of her own,
She loves me best, whene'er I sing There is but one such visage at a time;
The songs that make her grieve, 'Tis like the budding of an age new born, I play'd a soft and doleful air, Remembered youth, the cuckoo in the prime, I sang an old and moving storyThe maid's first kiss, or any other thing An old rude song, that suited well Most lovely, and alone, and promising.
wild and hoary.
She listen'd with a flitting blush, 204. Sonnet. The Nile. L. Hunt. With downcast eyes and modest grace, It flows through old hushed Ægypt and its
For well she knew, I could not choose sands,
But gazę upon her face,
And that for ten long years he woo'd
The deep, the low, the pleading tone
She listen'd with a flitting blush,
And she forgave me, that I gazed
Too fondly on her face!
But when I told the cruel scorn ?Twixt villages, and think how we shall take Our own calm journey on for human sake,
That craz'd that bold and lovely Knight,
And that he cross'd the mountain-woods, 0 205. Sonnet. On a sequestered Rivulet.
Nor rested day nor night;
And sometimes from the darksome shade, THERE is no river in the world more sweet,
And sometimes starting up at once Or fitter for a sylván poet's dream,
In green and sunny glade, Than this romantic, solitary stream,
There came and look'd him in the face Over whose banks so many branches meet,
An angel beautiful and bright; Entangling :-a more shady bower or neat
And that he knew it was a fiend,
This miserable Knight!
He 'leap'd amid a murderous band, Wandering amidst Italian meadows, where And sav'd from outrage worse than death Clitumnus lapses from his fountain fair;
The Lady of the Land ! Nor in that land where gods, 'tis said, have And how she wept, and clasp'd his knees, been;
And how she tended him in vain ;
The scorn that craz'd his brain ;
And that she nursed him in a cave;
Stranger. And how his madness went away,
They've set about it When on the yellow forest-leaves
In right good earnest. All the front is gone; A dying man he lay ;
Here's to be turf, they tell me, and a road His dying words—but when I reach'd Round to the door. There were some yew That tenderest strain of all the ditty,
trees too My faltering voice and pausing harp
Stood in the court-
Ay, Master ! fine old trees ! Had thrill'd my guileless Genevieve; My grandfather could just remember back The music, and the doleful tale,
When they were planted there. It was my task The rich and balmy eve;
To keep them trimmd, and 'twas a pleasure And hopes, and fears that kindle hope,
(wall ! An undistinguishable throng,
All straight and smooth, and like a great green And gentle wishes long subdued,
My poor old Lady many a time would come Subdued and cherish'd long !
And tell me where to shear, for she had play'd
In childhood under them, and 'twas her pride She wept with pity and delight,
To keep them in their beauty. Plague, I say, She blush'd with love and virgin shame;
On their new-fangled whimsies ! we shall have And, like the murmur of a dream, I heard her breathe my name.
A modern shrubbery here stuck full of firs
And your pert poplar trees ;-I could as soon Her bosom heav'd-she stept aside,
Have plough'd my father's grave as cut them As conscious of my look she stept
down! Then suddenly, with timorous eye
But 'twill be lighter and more cheerful now; She half enclosed me with her arms, A fine smooth turf, and with a gravel road She press'd me with a meek embrace;
Round for the carriage, now it suits my taste. And, bending back her head, look'd up,
I like a shrubbery too, it looks so fresh;
And then there's some variety about it. 'Twas partly love, and partly fear,
In spring the lilac and the snow-ball flower, And partly 'twas a bashful art,
And the laburnum, with its golden strings That I might rather feel, than see,
Waving in the wind : and when the autumn The swelling of her heart. I calm'd her fears, and she was calm,
The bright red berries of the mountain-ash, And told her love with virgin pride.
With pines enough in winter to look green, And so I won my Genevieve,
And show that something lives. Sure this is My bright and beauteous bride.
Than a great hedge of yew that makes it look 0 207. Eclogue. The Old Mansion-House. All the year round like winter, and for ever
SOUTHEY. Dropping its poisonous leaves from the under Stranger.
boughs OLD friend! why, you seem bent on parish duty, Wither'd and bare ! Breaking the highway stones,—and 'tis a task
Old Man. Somewhat too hard, methinks for age like yours!
Ah! so the new Squire thinks, Old Man.
And pretty work he makes of it! what 'tis Why yes ! for one with such a weight of years
To have a stranger come to an old house! Upon his back—I've lived here, man and boy,
No, sir ; not I. When my late Lady's father, the old Squire, They tell me he's expected daily now; Came to the estate,
But in my Lady's time he never came
for they were very distant kin. Why then you have outlasted If he had play'd about here when a child All his improvements; for you see they're In that fore court, and eat the yew-berries, making
And sate in the porch threading the jessamine Great alterations here.
flowers Old Man.
Which fell so thick, he had not had the heart
To mar all thus !
Come-come! all is not wrong i The wicked work is here
Those old, dark windows,
They must fall too. Well! well! I did not think They're demolish'd too,-|To live to see all this, and 'tis perhaps As if he could not see through casement glass ! A comfort I sha’n't live to see it long. The very red-breasts, that so regular Came to my Lady for her morning crums.
Stranger. Wo'n't know the window now!
Bụt sure all changes are not needs for the worse,
Mayhap they mayn't, sir ;-for all that,
I like what I've been used to. I remember Harboring the vermin ;—yet I could have
All this from a child up, and now to lose it, wish'd That jessamine had been saved, which canopied As 'twas ; – I go abroad, and only meet
'T'is losing an old friend. There's nothing left And bower'd and lined the porch.
With men whose fathers I remember boys; Old Man.
The brook that used to run before my door,
It did one good That's gone to the great pond; the trees I learnt T'o pass within ten yards when 'twas in blossom. To climb are down; and I see nothing now There was a sweet briar, too, that grew beside ; That tells me of old times,-except the stones My Lady loved at evening to sit there In the church-yard. You are young, sir, and, I And knit; and her old dog lay at her feet,
hope, And slept in the sun;, 'twas an old favorite Have many years in store,—but pray to God dog,
You mayn't be left the last of all your friends. She did not love him less that he was old And feeble, and he always had a place
Stranger, By the fire-side; and when he died at last
Well! well ! you've one friend more than She made me dig a grave in the garden for him. you're aware of.
(warrant Ah! she was good to all! a woeful day
If the Squire's taste don't suit with yours, I 'Twas for the poor when to her grave she went! That's all you'll quarrel with: walk in and taste
His beer, old friend ! and see if your old Lady Stranger.
Ere broach'd a better cask. You did not know They lost a friend then ?
But we're acquainted now. 'Twould not be easy You're a stranger here, To make you like the outside ; but within, Or you wouldn't ask that question. Were That is not changed, my friend! you'll always
find they sick ? She had rare cordial waters, and for herbs
The same old bounty and old welcome there. She could have taught the doctors. Then at winter,
0 208. To H. C.-Six years old. When weekly she distributed the bread
WORDSWORTH. In the poor old porch, to see her and to hear O THOU! whose fancies from afar are brought! The blessings on her! and I warrant them Who of thy words dost make a mock apparel, They were a blessing to her when her wealth And fittest to unutterable thought Had been no comfort else. At Christmas, sir! The breeze-like motion and the self-born carol; · It would have warm'd your heart if you had seen Thou fairy voyager ! that dost float Her Christinas kitchen,-how the blazing fire In such clear water, that thy boat Made her fine pewter shine, and holly boughs May rather seem So cheerful red,-and as for mistleoe, - To brood on air than on an earthly stream; The finest bough that grew in the country Suspended in a stream as clear as sky, [gery; round
[went Where earth and heaven do make one imaWas mark'd for Madam. Then her old ale o blessed vision! happy child'! So bountiful about ! a Christmas cask, That art so exquisitely wild, And 'twas a noble one!-God help me, sir! I think of thee with many fears But I shall never see such days again. For what may be thy lot in future years. Stranger.
I thought of times when Pain might be thy
guest, Things may be better yet than you suppose,
Lord of thy house and hospitality;
And Grief, uneasy lover! never rest
But when she sate within the touch of thee.
It don't look well,- Oh! too industrious folly! These alterations, sir ! I'm an old man, Oh! vain and causeless melancholy! And love the good old fashions; we don't find Nature will either end thee quite; Old bounty in new houses. They've destroy'd Or, lengthening out thy season of delight, All that my Lady loved ! her favorite walk Preserve for thee, by individual right, Grubb'd up,—and they do say that the great row A young lamb's heart among the full-grown Of elms behind the house, which meet a-top, flocks.
VOL. vi. Nos. 91 & 92.
What hast thou to do with sorrow,
A month or more hath she been dead,
And her together.
A springy motion in her gait,
A rising step, did indicate
Of pride and joy no common rate,
That flush'd her spirit,
I know not by what name beside
,' She did inherit.
Which doth the human feeling cool,
But she was train'd in Nature's school;
Nature had bless'd her.
A waking eye, a prying mind,
A heart that stirs, is hard to bind,
A hawk's keen sight ye cannot blind,
Ye could not Hester.
My sprightly neighbor, gone before
To that unknown and silent shore,
Shall we not meet, as heretofore,
Some summer morning,
A bliss that would not go away,
0 212. The old familiar Faces. LAMB.
I HAVE had playmates, I have had companions, As lovely visions by thy side
In my days of childhood, in my joyful schoolAs now, fair river! come to me.
All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.
I have been laughing, I have been carousing,
Drinking late, sitting late, with my bosom cro-'
All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.
I loved a love once, fairest among women!
I have a friend, a kinder friend has no man;
Like an ingrate, I left my friend abruptly ;
Left him, to muse on the old familiar faces,
Ghost-like I paced round the haunts of my
childhood. How calm' how still! the only sound,
Earth seemed a desert I was bound to traverse,
Seeking to find the old familiar faces.
Why wert not thou born in my father's dwell
ing? 0 211. Hester. LAMB.
So might we talk of the old familiar faces-
How some they have died, and some they have
And some are taken from me; all are departed;
All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.
II. 0 213. The common Lot. MONTGOMERY.
Thou on whose stream, 'mid the steep sky's Once, in the flight of ages past,
[shed, There lived a man :-and who was HE?
Loose clouds like earth's decaying leaves are -Mortal! howe'er thy lot be cast,
Shook from the tangled boughs of heaven and That man tesembled thee.
ocean, Unknown the region of his birth,
Angels of rain and lightning: there are spread The land in which he died unknown :
On the blue surface of thine airy surge, His name has perished from the earth,
Like the bright hair uplifted from the head This truth survives alone :
Of some fierce mænad, even from the dim verge That joy and grief, and hope and fear, Of the horizon to the zenith's height, [dirge Alternate triumph'd in his breast;
The locks of the approaching storm. Thou His bliss and woe,-a smile, a tear!
Of the dying year, to which this closing night -Oblivion hides the rest.
Will be the dome of a vast sepulchre, The bounding pulse, the languid limb, Vaulted with all thy congregated might The changing spirits' rise and fall;
Of vapours, from whose solid atmosphere We know that these were felt by him,
Black rain, and fire, and hail will burst ; 0; For these are felt by all.
hear! He suffer'd,—but his pangs are o'er;
III. Enjoy'd,—but bis delights are fled;
Thou who didst waken from his summer dreams Had friends,-his friends are now no more ; And foes,-his foes are dead.
The blue Mediterranean, where he lay,
Lulled by the coil of his crystalline streams, He loved, but whom he loved the grave
Beside a pumice isle in Baiæ's bay,
And saw in sleep old palaces and towers
Quivering within the wave's intenser day,
All overgrown with azure moss and flowers He saw whatever thou hast seen;
So sweet, the sense faints picturing them! thou Encounter'd all that troubles thee :
For whose path the Atlantic's level powers He was—whatever thou hast been; He is what thou shalt be.
Cleave themselves into chasms, while far below
The sea-blooms and the oozy woods which wear The rolling seasons, day and night,
The sapless foliage of the ocean, know
Thy voice, and suddenly grow gray with fear, To him exist in vain.
And tremble, and despoil themselves : 0, hear! The clouds and sunbeams, o'er his eye
If I were a swift cloud to fly with thee;
A wave to pant beneath thy power, and share The annals of the human race,
The impulse of thy strength, only less free Their ruins since the world began,
Than thou, 0, uncontrollable ! if even Of him afford no other trace
I were as in my boyhood, and could be Than this,—THERE LIVED A MAN!
The comrade of thy wanderings over heaven,
As then, when to outstrip thy skyey speed $ 214. Ode to the West Wind. SHELLEY. Scarce seemed a vision; I would ne'er have I.
striven O, Wild West Wind, thou breath of autumn's As thus with thee in prayer in my sore need. being,
[dead Oh! lift me as a wave, a leaf, a cloud! Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves I fall upon the thorns of life! I bleed : Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter flee- A heavy weight of hours has chained and bowing,
[proud. Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red, One too like thee : tameless, and swift, and Pestilence-stricken multitudes : 0 thou, Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed
Make me thy lyre, even as the forest is: The winged seeds, where they lie cold and low, What if my leaves are falling like its own! Each like a corpse within its grave, until The tumult of thy mighty harmonies Thine azure sister of the spring shall blow
Will take from both a deep autumnal tone, Her clarion o'er the dreaming earth, and fill Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, spirit fierce, (Driving sweet buds like flocks to feed in air) My spirit! be thou me, impetuous one ! With living hues and odours plain and hill:
Drive my dead thoughts over the universe Wild spirit which art moving every where; Like withered leaves to quicken a new birth' Destroyer and preserver; hear, o hear! And, by the incantation of this verse,