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To which requests were added that forthwith But 'tis a long time to look back, my son,
These fields were burthened when they came to m2;
Than half of my inheritance was mine. A prouder heart than Luke's. When Isabel I toiled and toiled; God blessed me in my work, Had to her house returned, the old man said, And till these three weeks past the land was free. “ He shall depart to-morrow.” To this word -It looks as if it never could endure The housewife answered, talking much of things Another master. Heaven forgive me, Luke, Which, if at such short notice he should go, If I judge ill for thee, but it seems good Would surely be forgotten. But at length
That thou shouldst go.” At this the old man pu't: She gave consent, and Michael was at ease. Then, pointing to the stones near which they stood,
Near the tumultuous brook of Green-head Ghyll, Thus, after a short silence, he resumed: In that deep valley, Michael had designed
“ This was a work for us; and now, my son, To build a sheep-fold; and, before he heard It is a work for me. But, lay one stoneThe tidings of his melancholy loss,
Here, lay it for me, Luke, with thine own hands
. For this same purpose he had gathered up
Nay, boy, be of good hope;—we both may live
I still am strong and stout ;-do thou thy part
All works which I was wont to do alone,
Before I knew thy face.—Heaven bless thee, bor? And all thy life hast been my daily joy.
Thy heart these two weeks has been beating fast I will relate to thee some little part
With many hopes It should be so—Yes-jen Of our two histories; 'twill do thee good
I knew that thou couldst never have a wish When thou art from me, even if I should speak To leave me, Luke: thou hast been bound 10 me Of things thou canst not know of. After thou Only by links of love: when thou art gone, First cam'st into the world--as it befalls
What will be left to us !-But, I forget To new-born infants——thou didst sleep away
My purposes. Lay now the corner-stone, Two days, and blessings from thy father's tongue As I requested; and hereafter, Luke, Then fell upon thee. Day by day passed on, When thou art gone away, should evil men And still I loved thee with increasing love.
Be thy companions, think of me, my son, Never to living ear came sweeter sounds
And of this moment; hither turn thy thoughts, Than when I heard thee by our own fire-side And God will strengthen thee: amid all fear First uttering, without words, a natural tune; And all temptation, Luke, I pray that thou When thou, a feeding babe, didst in thy joy
Mayst bear in mind the life thy fathers lived, Sing at thy mother's breast. Month followed month, Who, being innocent, did for that cause And in the
Bestir them in good deeds. Now, fare thee xelAnd on the mountains, else I think that thou
When thou return'st, thou in this place wille? Hadst been brought up upon thy father's knees. A work which is not here: a covenant But we were playmates, Luke: among these hills, 'Twill be between us—But, whatever fate As well thou know'st, in us the old and young
Befal thee, I shall love thee to the last, Have played together, nor with me didst thou And bear thy memory with me to the grave." Lack any pleasure which a boy can know."
The shepherd ended here; and Luke stoped Luke had a manly heart; but at these words And, as his father had requested, laid [dost He sobbed aloud. The old man grasped his hand, The first stone of the sheep-fold. At the sight And said, “ Nay, do not take it so I see
The old man's grief broke from him, to his heart That these are things of which I need not speak.
He pressed his son, he kissed him and wept;
And to the house together they returned.
-Hushed was that house in peace, or seeming peace,
Ere the night sell:with morrow's dawn the bog Received at other's hands; for, though now old
Began his journey, and when he had reached Beyond the common life of
I still Remember them who loved me in my youth.
The public way, he put on a bold face; Both of them sleep together: here they lived,
And all the neighbours as he passed their doors
Came forth with wishes and with farewell prafers As all their forefathers had done; and when
That followed him till he was out of sight.
of Luke and his well-doing: and the boy I wished that thou shouldst live the life they lived.
Wrote loving letters, full of wondrous news,
A good report did from their kinsman come,
Which, as the housewife phrased it, were throughout When soothed awhile by milder airs,
Thee Winter in the garland wears
That thinly shades his few
grey hairs; So, many months passed on: and once again
Spring cannot shun thee;
Whole Summer fields are thine by right;
And Autumn, melancholy wight!
Doth in thy crimson head delight
When rains are on thee.
In shoals and bands, a morrice train,
Thou greet'st the traveller in the lane ; He in the dissolute city gave himself
If welcomed once thou count'st it gain;
Thou art not daunted,
Nor car'st if thou be set at nought:
And oft alone in pooks remote
We meet thee, like a pleasant thought, 'Twill make a thing endurable, which else
When such are wanted.
Be Violets in their secret mews.
The flowers the wanton Zephyrs choose ;
Proud be the Rose, with rains and dews
Thou liv'st with less ambitious aim,
Yet hast not gone without thy fame;
Thou art indeed by many a claim
The Poet's darling.
If to a rock from rains he fly,
Or, some bright day of April sky,
Imprisoned by hot sunshine lie
Near the green holly,
And wearily at length should fare;
He needs but look about, and there That many and many a day he thither went,
Thou art! a friend at hand, to scare
A hundred times, by rock or bower,
Ere thus I have lain couched an hour, The length of full seven years from time to time
Have I derived from thy sweet power
Some steady love; some brief delight;
Some memory that had taken flight; Survive her husband: at her death the estate
Some chime of fancy wrong or right;
Or stray invention,
And one chance look to thee should turn, ground
I drink out of an humbler urn
A lowlier pleasure ;
The homely sympathy that heeds
The common life our nature breeds ;
A wisdom fitted to the needs
Of hearts at leisure.
Which I, wherever thou art met,
“ But now proud thoughts are in your breatTo thee am owing;
What grief is mine you see. An instinct call it, a blind sense;
Ah! would you think, even yet how blest A happy, genial influence,
Together we might be! Coming one knows not how, nor whence,
Though of both leaf and flower bereft, Nor whither going.
Some ornaments to me are left
Rich store of scarlet hips is mine, Child of the Year! that round dost run
With which I, in my humble way, Thy course, bold lover of the sun,
Would deck you many a winter's day, And cheerful when the day's begun
A happy Eglantine !"
What more he said I cannot tell.
The Torrent thundered down the dell As in old time ;-thou not in vain,
With unabating haste;
I listened, nor aught else could hear;
Those accents were his last.
THE KITTEN AND THE FALLING “ Begone, thou fond presumptuous elf,"
LEAVES. Exclaimed a thundering voice, “ Nor dare to trust thy foolish self
That way look, my infant, lo! Between me and my choice!”.
What a pretty baby-show! A small Cascade fresh swoln with snows
See the kitten on the wall, Thus threatened a poor Briar-rose,
Sporting with the leaves that fall, That, all bespattered with his foam,
Withered leaves-one-two-and threeAnd dancing high, and dancing low,
From the lofty elder-tree! Was living, as a child might know,
Through the calm and frosty air In an unhappy home.
Of this morning bright and fair “ Dost thou presume my course to block:
Eddying round and round they sink Off, off! or, puny thing!
Softly, slowly, one night think,
From the motions that are made,
Every little leaf conveyed
Sylph or fairy hither tending,
To this lower world descending, The patient Briar suffered long,
Each invisible and mute, Nor did he utter groan or sigh,
In his wavering parachute. Hoping the danger would be past;
- But the kitten, how she starts, But, seeing no relief, at last He ventured to reply.
Crouches, stretches, paws, and darts!
First at one, and then its fellow “ Ah!” said the Briar,“ blame me not;
Just as light and just as yellow; Why should we dwell in strife?
There are many now — now one — We who in this sequestered spot
Now they stop; and there are none – Once lived a happy life!
What intenseness of desire You stirred me on my rocky bed.
In her upward eye of fire! What pleasure through my veins you spread!
With a tiger-leap, half way, The summer long, from day to day,
Now she meets the coming prey, My leaves you freshened and bedewed;
Lets it go as fast, and then Nor was it common gratitude
Has it in her power again: That did your cares repay.
Now she works with three or four,
Like an Indian conjuror; “ When spring came on with bud and bell,
Quick as he in feats of art, Among these rocks did I
Far beyond in joy of heart. Before you hang my wreaths, to tell
Were hier antics played in the eye That gentle days were nigh!
Of a thousand standers-by, And in the sultry summer hours,
Clapping hands with shout and stare, I sheltered you with leaves and flowers ;
What would little Tabby care And in my leaves- now shed and gone,
For the plaudits of the crowd ?
Over happy to be proud,
Over wealthy in the treasure
645 'Tis a pretty baby-treat;
Spreads with such a living grace Nor, I deem, for me unmeet;
O'er my little Laura's face ; Here, for neither babe nor me,
Yes, the sight so stirs and charms Other playmate can I see.
Thee, baby, laughing in my arms, of the countless living things,
That almost I could repine That with stir of feet and wings,
That your transports are not mine, (In the sun or under shade,
That I do not wholly far: Upon bough or grassy blade)
Even as ye do, thoughtless pair! And with busy revellings,
And I will have my careless season Chirp and song, and murmurings,
Spite of melancholy reason, Made this orchard's narrow space,
Will walk through life in such a way And this vale so blithe a place;
That, when time brings on decay, Multitudes are swept away
Now and then I may possess Never more to breathe the day:
Hours of perfect gladsomeness. Some are sleeping; some in bands
- Pleased by any random toy ; Travelled into distant lands;
By a kitten's busy joy, Others slunk to moor and wood,
Or an infant's laughing eye Far from human neighbourhood;
Sharing in the ecstasy ; And among the kinds that keep
I would fare like that or this, With us closer fellowship,
Find my wisdom in my bliss; With us openly abide,
Keep the sprightly soul awake, All have laid their mirth aside.
And have faculties to take, - Where is he that giddy sprite,
Even from things by sorrow wrought, Blue-cap, with his colours bright,
Matter or a jocund thought; Who was blest as bird could be,
Spite of care, and spite of grief,
To gambol with life's falling leaf.
TO THE CUCKOO.
O blithe new-comer! I have heard, Bound himself, and then unbound;
I hear thee and rejoice : Lithest, gaudiest harlequin !
O Cuckoo! shall I call thee bird,
Or but a wandering voice ?
While I am lying on the grass,
Thy loud note smites my ear! Frisking, bleating merriment,
It seems to fill the whole air's space,
At once far off and near!
I hear thee babbling to the vale
Of sunshine and of flowers; Save a little neighbouring rill,
But unto me thou bring'st a tale
Of visionary hours.
Thrice welcome, darling of the Spring!
Even yet thou art to me Vainly morning spreads the lure
No bird; but an invisible thing, Of a sky serene and pure ;
A voice, a mystery. Creature none can she decoy
The same whom in my school-boy days
I listened to; that cry
Which made me look a thousand ways,
In bush, and tree, and sky.
To seek thee did I often rove
Through woods and on the green ;
O blessed bird! the earth we pace
RESOLUTION AND INDEPENDENCE Again appears to be An unsubstantial, faery place;
There was a roaring in the wind all night;
The rain came heavily and fell in floods;
But now the sun is rising calm and bright;
Over his own sweet voice the stock-dore broed;
The jay makes answer as the Magpie chatters; There is a yew-tree, pride of Lorton Vale,
And all the air is filled with pleasant noise of water Which to this day stands single, in the midst Of its own darkness, as it stood of yore,
All things that love the sun are out of doors; Not loth to furnish weapons for the bands
The sky rejoices in the morning's birth; Of Umfraville or Percy, ere they marched
The grass is bright with rain-drops ; on the sca To Scotland's heaths; or those that crossed the sea The hare is running races in her mirth; And drew their sounding bows at Azincour,
And with her feet she from the plashy earth Perhaps at earlier Crecy, or Poictiers.
Raises a mist; which, glittering in the sun, Of vast circumference and gloom profound
Runs with her all the way, wherever she doth ra This solitary tree! a living thing Produced too slowly ever to decay;
I was a traveller then upon the moor; Of form and aspect too magnificent
I saw the hare that raced about with jos; To be destroyed. But worthier still of note
I heard the woods, and distant waters, roat; Are those fraternal four of Borrowdale,
Or heard them not, as happy as a boy: Joined in one solemn and capacious grove;
The pleasant season did my heart emplos: Huge trunks!—and each particular trunk a growth
My old remembrances went from me wholly; Of intertwisted fibres serpentine
And all the ways of men, so vain and melancholy Up-coiling, and inveterately convolved,
But, as it sometimes chanceth, from the might Nor uninformed with phantasy, and looks
Of joy in minds that can no farther go,
;-a pillared shade, As high as we have mounted in delight
And fears, and fancies, thick upon me cane;
Dim sadness, and blind thoughts, I knew Bot, ut With unrejoicing berries, ghostly shapes
could name. May meet at noontide-Fear and trembling Hope, Silence and Foresight—Death the Skeleton
I heard the sky-lark warbling in the sky; And Time the Shadow,—there to celebrate,
And I bethought me of the playful hare: As in a natural temple scattered o'er
Even such a happy child of earth am l; With altars undisturbed of mossy stone,
Even as these blissful creatures do I fare ; United worship; or in mute repose
Far from the world I walk, and from all care; To lie, and listen to the mountain flood
But there may come another day to me-
Solitude, pain of heart, distress, and poverty.
As if life's business were a summer mood;
As if all needful things would come unsought At the corner of Wood-street, when day-light ap- To genial faith, still rich in genial good; pears,
But how can he expect that others should Hangs a thrush that sings loud, it bas sung for Build for him, sow for him, and at his call Poor Susan has passed by the spot, and has heard Love him, who for himself will take no heed tal! In the silence of morning the song of the bird.
I thought of Chatterton, the marvellous boy, 'Tis a note of enchantment; what ails her? She sees The sleepless soul that perished in his pride; mountain ascending, a vision of trees;
Of Him who walked in glory and in joy Bright volumes of vapour through Lothbury glide, Following his plough, along the mountain-side: And a river flows on through the vale of Cheapside. By our own spirits are we deified; Green pastures she views in the midst of the dale,
We poets in our youth begin in gladnes; frete Down which she so often has tripped with her pail;
But thereof comes in the end despondency and sato
Yet it befel, that, in this lonely place,
When I with these untoward thoughts had strives,
Beside a pool bare to the eye of Heaven The stream will not flow and the hill will not rise, I saw a man before me unawares : And the colours have all passed away from her eyes. The oldest inan he seemed that ever wore grey hair