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The gentleness of heaven broods o'er the Though fallen thyself, never to rise again, Sea:
Live, and take comfort. Thou hast left be. Listen! the mighty Being is awake,
hind And doth with his eternal motion make | Powers that will work for thee; air, earth, A sound like thunder - everlastingly.
and skies; Dear Child ! dear Girll that walkest with There's not a breathing of the common me here,
wind If thou appear untouched by solemn That will forget thee; thou hast great allies; thought,
Thy friends are exultations, agonies, Thy nature is not therefore less divine: And love, and man's unconquerable mind. Thou liest in Abraham's bosom all the year; And worship’st at the Temple's inner shrine, God being with thee when we know it not. IN LONDON, SEPTEMBER 1802
[Publ. 1807) ON THE EXTINCTION OF THE
This was written immediately after my reVENETIAN REPUBLIC
turn from France to London, when I could not
but be struck, as here described, with the vanity (Pabl. 1807]
and parade of our own country, especially in
great towns and cities, as contrasted with the ONCE did She hold the gorgeous east in fee; l quiet, and I may say the desolation, that the And was the safeguard of the west: the revolution had produced in France. ... worth
O FRIEND! I know not which way I must Of Venice did not fall below her birth,
look Venice, the eldest Child of Liberty.
For comfort, being, as I am, opprest, She was a maiden City, bright and free; To think that now our life is only drest No guile seduced, no force could violate;
| For show; mean handy-work of craftsman, And, when she took unto herself a Mate,
cook, She must espouse the everlasting Sea.
Or groom ! - We must run glittering like And what if she had seen those glories fade,
a brook Those titles vanish, and that strength de
In the open sunshine, or we are unblest: | cay;
The wealthiest man among us is the best: Yet shall some tribute of regret be paid
No grandeur now in nature or in book When her long life hath reached its final Delights us. Rapine, avarice, expense, day:
This is idolatry; and these we adore: Men are we, and must grieve when even
Plain living and high thinking are no more: the Shade
The homely beauty of the good old cause Of that which once was great, is passed
Is gone; our peace, our fearful innocence, away.
And pure religion breathing household
laws. TO TOUSSAINT L'OUVERTURE
LONDON, 1802 [Publ. 1807)
[Publ. 1807] TOUSSAINT, the most unhappy man of men ! Whether the whistling Rustic tend his Milton! thou should'st be living at this plough
hour: Within thy hearing, or thy head be now England hath need of thee: she is a fen Pillowed in some deep dungeon's earless Of stagnant waters: altar, sword, and pen, den; —
Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and O miserable Chieftain ! where and when
bower, Wilt thou find patience ? Yet die not; do Have forfeited their ancient English dower thou
Of inward happiness. We are selfish men; Wear rather in thy bonds a cheerful brow: / Oh! raise us up, return to us again;
And give us manners, virtue, freedom,
For dearly must we prize thee; we who find
TO THE DAISY
(Publ. 1807] “IT IS NOT TO BE THOUGHT
Bright Flower! whose home is everywhere,
Bold in maternal Nature's care, [Publ. 1807]
And all the long year through the heir
Of joy or sorrow;
The forest thorough! withstood," Roused though it be full often to a mood Is it that Man is soon deprest? Which spurns the check of salutary bands, | A thoughtless Thing! who, once unblest, ro That this most famous Stream in bogs and Does little on his memory rest, sands
Or on his reason, Should perish; and to evil and to good And Thou would'st teach him how to find Be lost for ever. In our halls is hung A shelter under every wind, Armoury of the invincible Knights of old: | A hope for times that are unkind We must be free or die, who speak the
And every season ? tongue That Sbakspeare spake; the faith and | Thou wander'st the wide world about, morals hold
Unchecked by pride or scrupulous doubt, Which Milton held. – In everything we are With friends to greet thee, or without, sprung
Yet pleased and willing;
20 Of Earth's first blood, have titles manifold. Meek, yielding to the occasion's call,
And all things suffering from all,
Thy function apostolical “WHEN I HAVE BORNE IN
In peace fulfilling.
..THE GREEN LINNET
[Publ. 1807] WHEN I have borne in memory what has
tamed Great Nations, how ennobling thoughts de
part When men change swords for ledgers, and
desert The student's bower for gold, some fears
unnamed I had, my Country!-- am I to be blamed? Now, when I think of thee, and what thou
art, Verily, in the bottom of my heart, Of those unfilial fears I am ashamed.
BENEATH these fruit-tree bonghs that shed
Of spring's unclouded weather,
My last year's friends together.
One have I marked, the happiest guest | In all this covert of the blest:
No Nightingale did ever chaunt
(Publ. 1807) While my Fellow-traveller and I were walking by the side of Loch Ketterine, one fine evening after sunset, in our road to a Hut where, in the course of our Tour, we had been hospitably entertained some weeks before, we met, in one of the loneliest parts of that solitary region, two well-dressed Women, one of whom said to us, by way of greeting, “What, you are stepping westward ?" “ Whal, you are stepping westward ?" -.
« Yea." - 'T would be a wildish destiny, If we, who thus together roam In a strange Land, and far from home, Were in this place the gniests of Chance: Yet who would stop, or fear to advance, Though home or shelter he had none, With such a sky to lead him on?
Will no one tell me what she sings ? —
Whate'er the theme, the Maiden sang
I listened, motionless and still; And, as I mounted up the hill The music in my heart I bore, Long after it was heard no more.
O'er hilly path, and open Strath,
“ Let beeves and home-bred kine partake
[Publ. 1807] See the various Poems the scene of which is laid upon the banks of the Yarrow; in particular, the exquisite Ballad of Hamilton beginning “ Busk ye, busk ye, my bonny, bonny Bride,
Busk ye, busk ye, my winsome Marrow! — "
TO THE CUCKOO
[Publ. 1807) O BLITHE New-comer! I have heard, I hear thee and rejoice. O Cuckoo ! shall I call thee Bird, Or but a wandering Voice ?
“There's Galla Water, Leader Haughs,
While I am lying on the grass
Though babbling only to the Vale,
“Oh! green,” said I, “are Yarrow's holms,
To seek thee did I often rove Through woods and on the green; And thou wert still a hope, a love; Still longed for, never seen.
And I can listen to thee yet;
“I WANDERED LONELY AS
(Publ. 1807] Written at Town-end, Grasmere. The Daffodils grew and still grow on the margin of Ullswater, and probably may be seen to this day as beautiful in the month of March, nodding their golden heads beside the dancing and foaming waves. I WANDERED lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host, of golden daffodils ; Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
SHE was a Phantom of delight
The waves beside them danced; but they
This ode is on the model of Gray's Ode to Adversity, which is copied from Horace's Ode to Fortune. Many and many a time have I been twitted by my wife and sister for having forgotten this dedication of myself to the stern lawgiver. Transgressor indeed I have been, from hour to hour, from day to day: I would