Who, with a keenness not to be withstood,
Press the point home, or falter and demur, Checked in your course by many a teasing burr; These natural council-seats your acrid blood
and, as the Genius of the flood
Stoops willingly to animate and spur
Each lighter function slumbering in the brain,
Yon eddying balls of foam, these arrowy gleams
That o'er the pavement of the surging streams
Welter and flash, a synod might detain
With subtle speculations, haply vain,
But surely less so than your far-fetched themes!
This, and the two following, were suggested by Mr. W. Westall's Views of the Caves, etc., in Yorkshire.
PURE element of waters! wheresoe'er
Thou dost forsake thy subterranean haunts,
Green herbs, bright flowers, and berry-bearing
Rise into life and in thy train appear:
And, through the sunny portion of the year,
Swift insects shine, thy hovering pursuivants :
And, if thy bounty fail, the forest pants;
And hart and hind, and hunter with his spear,
Languish and droop together. Nor unfelt
In man's perturbed soul thy sway benign;
And, haply, far within the marble belt
Of central earth, where tortured Spirits pine
—De sime v mit o Exe
That Causeway vin nesmparitie XL.
C. mai mis vas da ce vocod
Win instel sweep mou a perfect round.
Na mgoner work hai gined the passive smile
Cf al-dencang Phzcus: Ban alas!
Wun earth his world! Foundations must be laid
Li Heaven; ir. mad the wreck of Is and WAS,
Things incomplete and purposes betrayed
Make subber transits o'er thought's optic glass
Than noblest objects utterly decayed.
Ar early dawn, or rather when the air
Glimmers with fading light, and shadowy Eve
*Waters (as Mr. Westall informs us in the letter-press prefixed to his admirable views) are invariably found to flow through these caverns.
Is busiest to confer and to bereave;
Then, pensive Votary! let thy feet repair
To Gordale chasm, terrific as the lair
Where the young lions couch; for so, by leave
Of the propitious hour, thou mayst perceive
The local Deity, with oozy hair
And mineral crown, beside his jagged urn
Recumbent: Him thou mayst behold, who hides
His lineaments by day, yet there presides,
Teaching the docile waters how to turn,
Or (if need be) impediment to spurn,
And force their passage to the salt-sea tides!
COMPOSED UPON WESTMINSTER BRIDGE, SEPT. 3, 1802.
EARTH has not anything to show more fair:
Dull would he be of soul who could pass by
A sight so touching in its majesty :
This City now doth, like a garment, wear
The beauty of the morning; silent, bare,
Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie
Open unto the fields, and to the sky,
All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
Never did sun more beautifully steep,
In his first splendor, valley, rock, or hill;
Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!
The river glideth at his own sweet will:
Dear God! the very houses seem asleep;
And all that mighty heart is lying still!
Ir gwe mi genes at DṬ Turmus melt Der must-mi deg jemi sweet songs with
n inset sweep mas a perfect round, Ni migiar vas had gained the passive smile Of Listening Puzous! Bu ads!
Tan earth, fase vinil Fodados must be laid
Bare: fc. mi the wreck of is and was, Tings moumpiese and purposes betrayed Kake subber transins er throght's opde glass Than botuest objects merly decayed.
Ar early dawa or rather when the air
Gimmers with fading light, and shadowy Eve
Waders as X. Testal zirms as in the letter-press prefxad u is simratie views are anally fiend to flow BEVLET THESE CITECTS.
Is busiest to confer and to bereave;
Then, pensive Votary! let thy feet repair
To Gordale chasm, terrific as the lair
Where the young lions couch; for so, by leave
Of the propitious hour, thou mayst perceive
The local Deity, with oozy hair
And mineral crown, beside his jagged urn
Recumbent: Him thou mayst behold, who hides
His lineaments by day, yet there presides,
Teaching the docile waters how to turn,
Or (if need be) impediment to spurn,
And force their passage to the salt-sea tides!
COMPOSED UPON WESTMINSTER BRIDGE, SEPT. 3, 1802.
EARTH has not anything to show more fair:
Dull would he be of soul who could pass by
A sight so touching in its majesty:
This City now doth, like a garment, wear
The beauty of the morning; silent, bare,
Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie
Open unto the fields, and to the sky,
All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
Never did sun more beautifully steep,
In his first splendor, valley, rock, or hill;
Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!
The river glideth at his own sweet will:
Dear God! the very houses seem asleep;
And all that mighty heart is lying still!
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