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1839. . Created Poet Laureate, 1843, Died, 1850. "The Prelude, or Growth of a Poet's Mind; an Autobiographical Poem," begun 1799, completed 1805; published after his death, in 1850.]
BOOKS A SUBSTANTIAL WORLD.
Wings have we,--and as far as we can go
Dreams, books, are each a world; and books, we know,
Are a substantial world, both pure and good:
Round these, with tendrils strong as flesh and blood,
Our pastime and our happiness will grow,
There find I personal themes, a plenteous store;
To which I listen with a ready ear;
Two shall be named, pre-eminently dear→
Nor can I not believe but that hereby
From evil-speaking; rancour, never sought,
Hence have I genial seasons, hence have I
Smooth passions, smooth discourse, and joyous thought;
And thus from day to day my little boat
TRANSLATION OF THE BIBLE.
But to outweigh all harm, the sacred Book,
And he who guides the plough, or wields the
With understanding spirit now may look
Upon her records, listen to her song,
And sift her laws-much wondering that the
Which faith has suffered, Heaven could calmly
Transcendant boon! noblest that earthly king
Under the weight of mortal wretchedness!
With bigotry shall tread the offering
Beneath their feet-detested and defiled.
WALTON'S BOOK OF LIVES.
There are no colours in the fairest sky
So fair as these. The feather whence the
Was shaped that traced the lives of these good men Dropped from an angel's wing.
We read of faith and purest charity
Methinks their very names shine still and bright;
Around meek Walton's heavenly memory.
While flowing rivers yield a blameless sport,
To reverend watching of each still report
Or down the tempting maze of Shawford brook!
The cowslip bank and shady willow tree,
And the fresh meads; where flowed from every nook Of his full bosom, gladsome piety!
THE DEATHLESS POWERS OF VERSE.
For deathless powers to verse belong,
But some their functions have disclaimed,
Not such the initiatory strains
Trembled the groves, the stars grew pale,
Of nature was withdrawn !
Nor such the spirit-stirring note
When the live chords Alcæus smote,
Woe! woe to tyrants! from the lyre
And not unhallowed was the page