XXXII. SURPRIZED by joy-impatient as the Wind Love, faithful love recalled thee to my mind But how could I forget thee?-Through what power, Even for the least division of an hour, Have I been so beguiled as to be blind To my most grievous loss?—That thought's return Knowing my heart's best treasure was no more; XXXIII. It is a beauteous Evening, calm and free; The gentleness of heaven is on the Sea : And doth with his eternal motion make A sound like thunder-everlastingly. Dear Child! dear Girl! that walkest with me here, XXXIV. COMPOSED ON THE EVE OF THE MARRIAGE OF A FRIEND, IN THE VALE OF GRASMERE. WHAT need of clamorous bells, or ribbands gay, Even for such omen would the Bride display No mirthful gladness:-serious is her face, Modest her mien; and she, whose thoughts keep pace With gentleness, in that becoming way Will thank you. Faultless does the Maid appear, No disproportion in her soul, no strife: But, when the closer view of wedded life Hath shewn that nothing human can be clear XXXV. ON APPROACHING HOME AFTER A TOUR IN SCOTLAND. 1803. FLY, some kind Spirit, fly to Grasmere Vale! And Rover whine, as at a second sight While we have wandered over wood and wild, Smile on his Mother now with bolder cheer. VOL. II. XXXVI. ΤΟ FROM the dark chambers of dejection freed, Rise, * * * * rise : the gales of youth shall bear Yet a high guerdon waits on minds that dare, If aught be in them of immortal seed, And reason govern that audacious flight Which heav'n-ward they direct. Then droop not thou, Erroneously renewing a sad vow In the low dell mid Roslin's fading grove: A cheerful life is what the Muses love, A soaring spirit is their prime delight. |