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Daughter of Hope ! her favourite Child, My Soul was grateful for delight
Whom she to young Ambition bore, That wore a threatening brow;
When hunter's arrow first defiled A veil is lifted—can she slight
The grove, and stained the turf with gore ; The scene that opens now !
Thee winged Fancy took, and nursed Though habitation none appear,
On broad Euphrates' palmy shore, The greenness tells, man must be there ;
And where the mightier Waters burst The shelter-that the perspective
From caves of Indian mountains hoar ! Is of the elime in which we live;
She wrapped thee in a panther's skin ; Where Toil pursues his daily round;
And Thou, thy favourite food to win, Where Pity sheds sweet tears—and Love,
The flame-eyed eagle oft wouldst scare In woodbine bower or birchen grove,
From her rock-fortress in mid air, Inflicts his tender wound.
With infant shout ; and often sweep, -Who comes not hither ne'er shall know Paired with the ostrich, o'er the plain ; How beautiful the world below;
Or, tired with sport, wouldst sink asleep Nor can he guess how lightly leaps
Upon the couchant lion's mane ! The brook adown the rocky steeps.
With rolling years thy strength increased; Farewell, thou desolate Domain !
And, far beyond thy native East, Hope, pointing to the cultured plain,
To thee, by varying titles known Carols like a shepherd-boy ;
As variously thy power was shown, And who is she !-Can that be Joy !
Did incense-bearing altars rise, Who, with a sunbeam for her guide,
Which caught the blaze of sacrifice, Smoothly skims the meadows wide;
From suppliants panting for the skies !
| No more by step of Demi-god
And the hushed farewell of an eye
Where no procrastinating gaze
A last infirmity betrays, · KEEP for the Young the impassioned smile
Prove that thy heaven-descended sway Shed from thy countenance, as I see thee stand
Shall ne'er submit to cold decay. High on that chalky cliff of Briton's Isle,
By thy divinity impelled, A slender volume grasping in thy hand(Perchance the pages that relate
The Stripling seeks the tented field ; The various turns of Crusoe's fate)
The aspiring Virgin kneels; and, pale Ah, spare the exulting smile,
With awe, receives the hallowed veil,
A soft and tender Heroine And drop thy pointing finger bright
Vowed to severer discipline ;
Inflamed by thee, the blooming Boy
Makes of the whistling shrouds a toy, From One who, in the evening of his day,
And of the ocean's dismal breast
A play-ground,-or a couch of rest;
Thou to his dangers dost enchain
The Chamois-chaser awed in vain Among the starry courts of Jove,
By chasm or dizzy precipice; And oft in splendour dost appear
And hast Thou not with triumph seen Embodied to poetic eyes,
How soaring Mortals glide between While traversing this nether sphere,
Or through the clouds, and brave the light Where Mortals call thee ENTERPRISE.
With bolder than Icarian flight ?
How they, in bells of crystal, dive
- Within our fearless reach are placed
Back flows the willing current of my Song:
-Bold Goddess ! range our Youth among ;
But, if such homage thou disdain
m. If there be movements in the Patriot's soul, From source still deeper, and of higher worth, 'Tis thine the quickening impulse to control, And in due season send the mandate forth; Thy call a prostrate Nation can restore, When but a single Mind resolves to crouch no
IV, Dread Minister of wrath ! Who to their destined punishment dost urge But thou, O Goddess ! in thy favourite Isle The Pharaohs of the earth, the men of hardened (Freedom's impregnable redoubt, heart!
The wide earth's store-house fenced about Not unassisted by the flattering stars,
With breakers roaring to the gales Thou strew'st temptation o'er the path
That stretch a thousand thousand sails) When they in pomp depart
Quicken the slothful, and exalt the vile ! With trampling horses and refulgent cars
Thy impulse is the life of Fame; Soon to be swallowed by the briny surge ;
Glad Hope would almost cease to be Or cast, for lingering death, on unknown strands; If torn from thy society ; caught amid a whirl of desert sands
| And Love, when worthiest of his name, An Army now, and now a living hill
Is proud to walk the earth with Thee !
Maiden ! now take flight ;-inherit Alps or Andes—they are thine ! With the morning's roseate Spirit, Sweep their length of snowy line ;
Or survey their bright dominions
Thine are all the coral fountains Warbling in each sparry vault Of the untrodden lunar mountains ; Listen to their songs !—or halt,
WATER-FOWL. Let me be allowed the aid of verse to describe the evolutions which these visitants sometimes perform, on a fine day towards the close of winter.'—Extract from the Author's Book on the Lakes. Mark how the feathered tenants of the flood, With grace of motion that might scarcely seem Inferior to angelical, prolong Their curious pastime! shaping in mid air (And sometimes with ambitious wing that soars High as the level of the mountain-tops) A circuit ampler than the lake beneathTheir own domain; but ever, while intent On tracing and retracing that large round, Their jubilant activity evolves Hundreds of curves and circlets, to and fro, Upward and downward, progress intricate Yet unperplexed, as if one spirit swayed Their indefatigable flight. 'Tis done Ten times, or more, I fancied it had ceased; But lo! the vanished company again Ascending; they approach—I hear their wings Faint, faint at first; and then an eager sound Past in a moment-and as faint again! They tempt the sun to sport amid their plumes ;
To Niphates' top invited, Whither spiteful Satan steered ; Or descend where the ark alighted, When the green earth re-appeared;
For the power of hills is on thee, As was witnessed through thine eye Then, when old Helvellyn won thee To confess their majesty!
They tempt the water, or the gleaming ice,
THE HAUNTED TREE.
Tuose silver clouds collected round the sun
By soft reflection-grateful to the sky,
To rocks, fields, woods. Nor doth our human VIEW FROM THE TOP OF BLACK COMB.
Ask, for its pleasure, screen or canopy This Height a ministering Angel might select : More ample than the time-dismantled Oak For from the summit of BLACK COMB (dread name Spreads o'er this tuft of heath, which now, attired Derived from clouds and storms !) the amplest range In the whole fulness of its bloom, affords Of unobstructed prospect may be seen
Couch beautiful as e'er for earthly use That British ground commands :- low dusky tracts, Was fashioned; whether by the hand of Art, Where Trent is nursed, far southward ! Cambrian | That eastern Sultan, amid flowers enwrought hills
On silken tissue, might diffuse his limbs To the south-west, a multitudinous show;
In languor; or, by Nature, for repose And, in a line of eye-sight linked with these, Of panting Wood-nymph, wearied with the chase. The hoary peaks of Scotland that give birth O Lady! fairer in thy Poet's sight To Tiviot's stream, to Annan, Tweed, and Clyde :
| Than fairest spiritual creature of the groves, Crowding the quarter whence the sun comes forth Approach ;—and, thus invited, crown with rest Gigantic mountains rough with crags; beneath, The noon-tide hour : though truly some there are Right at the imperial station's western base Whose footsteps superstitiously avoid Main ocean, breaking audibly, and stretched This venerable Tree ; for, when the wind Far into silent regions blue and pale ;
Blows keenly, it sends forth a creaking sound And visibly engirding Mona’s Isle
(Above the general roar of woods and crags) That, as we left the plain, before our sight Distinctly heard from far-a doleful note ! Stood like a lofty mount, uplifting slowly
As if (so Grecian shepherds would have deemed) (Above the convex of the watery globe)
The Hamadryad, pent within, bewailed Into clear view the cultured fields that streak Some bitter wrong. Nor is it unbelieved, Her habitable shores, but now appears
By ruder fancy, that a troubled ghost A dwindled object, and submits to lie
Haunts the old trunk; lamenting deeds of which At the spectator's feet.—Yon azure ridge,
The flowery ground is conscious. But no wind Is it a perishable cloud! Or there
Sweeps now along this elevated ridge; Do we behold the line of Erin's coast ?
Not even a zephyr stirs ;-the obnoxious Tree Land sometimes by the roving shepherd-swain Is mute; and, in his silence, would look down, (Like the bright confines of another world) O lovely Wanderer of the trackless hills, Not doubtfully perceived.--Look homeward now!
On thy reclining form with more delight In depth, in height, in circuit, how serene
Than his coevals in the sheltered vale The spectacle, how pure !_Of Nature's works, Seem to participate, the whilst they view In earth, and air, and earth-embracing sea, Their own far-stretching arms and leafy heads A revelation infinite it seems;
Vividly pictured in some glassy pool, Display august of man's inheritance,
That, for a brief space, checks the hurrying Of Britain's calm felicity and power!
Black Comb stands at the southern extremity of Cumberland : its base covers a much greater extent of ground than any other mountain in those parts; and, from its situation, the summit commands a more extensive view than any other point in Britain.
As e'er, on herbage covering earthly mold,
His richest splendour-when his veering gait
And every motion of his starry train
Seem governed by a strain Saow me the noblest Youth of present time,
Of music, audible to him alone. Whose trembling fancy would to love give birth; Some God or Hero, from the Olympian clime “O Lady, worthy of earth's proudest throne ! Returned, to seek a Consort upon earth;
Nor less, by excellence of nature, fit Or, in no doubtful prospect, let me see
Beside an unambitious hearth to sit The brightest star of ages yet to be,
Domestic queen, where grandeur is unknown; And I will mate and match him blissfully.
What living man could fear
The worst of Fortune's malice, wert Thou near, I will not fetch a Naiad from a flood
Humbling that lily-stem, thy sceptre meek,
Whose skill can speed the day with lively cares, Shall with Mount Ida's triple lustre fill
And banish melancholy The chaster coverts of a British hill.
By all that mind invents or hand prepares;
O Thou, against whose lip, without its smile “ Appear!-obey my lyre's command !
And in its silence even, no heart is proof; Come, like the Graces, hand in hand!
Whose goodness, sinking deep, would reconcile For ye, though not by birth allied,
The softest Nursling of a gorgeous palace Are Sisters in the bond of love;
To the bare life beneath the hawthorn-roof Nor shall the tongue of envious pride
Of Sherwood's Archer, or in caves of Wallace Presume those interweavings to reprove
Who that hath seen thy beauty could content In you, which that fair progeny of Jove,
His soul with but a glimpse of heavenly day! Learned from the tuneful spheres that glide
Who that hath loved thee, but would lay In endless union, earth and sea above."
His strong hand on the wind, if it were bent -I sing in vain ;-the pines have hushed their To take thee in thy majesty away? waving:
-Pass onward (even the glancing deer A peerless Youth expectant at my side,
Till we depart intrude not here ;) Breathless as they, with unabated craving
That mossy slope, o'er which the woodbine throws Looks to the earth, and to the vacant air;
A canopy, is smoothed for thy repose !”
Strive, and not vainly strive, to rout
Issuing from her cloudy shrine ;« Fear not a constraining measure !
So may the thrillings of the lyre -Yielding to this gentle spell,
Prevail to further our desire, Lucida ! from domes of pleasure,
While to these shades a sister Nymph I call. Or from cottage-sprinkled dell, Come to regions solitary,
“ Come, if the notes thine ear may pierce, Where the eagle builds her aery,
Come, youngest of the lovely Three, Above the hermit's long-forsaken cell !”
Submissive to the might of verse -She comes !-behold
And the dear voice of harmony,
She hastens to the tents
| Of nature, and the lonely elements.