From almost nullity into a state
Of matchless grandeur, and declension thence,
Slow, into such magnificent decay.
Time was when, settling on thy leaf, a fly
Could shake thee to the root-and time has been
When tempests could not. At thy firmest age
Thou hadst within thy bole solid contents,
That might have ribbed the sides and planked the deck
Of some flagged admiral; and tortuous arms,
The shipwright's darling treasure, didst present
To the four-quartered winds, robust and bold,
Warped into tough knee-timber, many a load!
But the axe spared thee. In those thriftier days
Oaks fell not, hewn by thousands, to supply
The bottomless demands of contest, waged
For senatorial honours. Thus to Time
The task was left to whittle thee away
With his sly scythe, whose ever-nibbling edge,
Noiseless, an atom and an atom more,
Disjoining from the rest, has, unobserved,
Achieved a labour, which had, far and wide,
By man perform'd, made all the forest ring.
Embowell'd now, and of thy ancient self
Possessing nought but the scoop'd rind, that seems
A huge throat calling to the clouds for drink,
Which it would give in rivulets to thy root,
Thou temptest none, but rather much forbid'st
The feller's toil, which thou couldst ill requite.
Yet is thy root sincere, sound as the rock.
A quarry of stout spurs, and knotted fangs,
Which, crook'd into a thousand whimsies, clasp
The stubborn soil, and hold thee still erect.
So stands a kingdom, whose foundation yet
Fails not in virtue, and in wisdom laid,
Though all the superstructure, by the tooth
Pulverised of venality, a shell
Stands now, and semblance only of itself!
Thine arms have left thee. Winds have rent them off
Long since, and rovers of the forest wild
With bow and shaft have burnt them. Some have left
A splinter'd stump bleach'd to a snowy white;
And some memorial none where once they grew.
Yet life still lingers in thee, and puts forth
Proof not contemptible of what she can,
Even where death predominates. The spring
Finds thee not less alive to her sweet force
Than yonder upstarts of the neighbouring wood,
So much thy juniors, who their birth received
Half a millennium since the date of thine.
But since, although well qualified by age
To teach, no spirit dwells in thee, nor voice
May be expected from thee, seated here
On thy distorted root, with hearers none,
Or prompter, save the scene, I will perform
Myself the oracle, and will discourse
In my own ear such matter as I may.
One man alone, the father of us all,
Drew not his life from woman: never gazed
With mute unconsciousness of what he saw
On all around him: learned not by degrees,
Nor ow'd articulation to his ear.
But, moulded by his Maker into man,
At once upstood intelligent, survey'd
All creatures with precision, understood
Their purport, uses, properties; assigned
To each his name significant, and, filled
With love and wisdom, rendered back to Heaven
In praise harmonious the first air he drew.
He was excused the penalties of dull
Minority. No tutor charged his hand
With the thought-tracing quill, or tasked his mind With problems. History, not wanted yet,
Leaned on her elbow, watching Time, whose course, Eventful, should supply her with a theme.
A Christian's wit is inoffensive light.
'Adieu," Vinosa cries, ere yet he sips
Ages elapsed ere Homer's lamp appeared.
All are not such. I had a brother once
All we behold is miracle, but seen
Almighty King! whose wondrous hand
A nightingale, that all day long
Art thou a man professionally tied
A spaniel, Beau, that fares like you
Be it a weakness, it deserves some praise .
Between Nose and Eyes a strange contest arose
Breathe from the gentle south, O Lord
But slighted as it is, and by the great
By whom was David taught
Close by the threshold of a door nailed fast
Come, Evening, once again, season of
Come, ponder well, for 'tis no jest
Cowper, whose silver voice, tasked sometimes hard.
Dear Anna-between friend and friend
Dear Joseph-five-and-twenty years ago
Delia, the unkindest girl on earth
Descending now (but cautious lest too fast)
Doomed, as I am, in solitude to waste
Dubius is such a scrupulous good man
England, with all thy faults, I love thee still
Farewell! endued with all that could engage
Farewell, false hearts! whose best affections fail
Far from the world, O Lord, I flee
From school to Cam or Isis, and thence home
God moves in a mysterious way
Gray dawn appears; the sportsman and his train
Hackney'd in business, wearied at that oar
Hark! how it floats upon the dewy air
Hark, my soul ! it is the Lord
Hark! 'tis the twanging horn! O'er yonder bridge
Hastings! I knew thee young, and of a mind
Hatred and vengeance,-my eternal portion
Hayley, thy tenderness fraternal, shown
Heaven speed the canvas, gallantly unfurled
He is the happy man, whose life even now
He lives who lives to God, alone
Here Johnson lies, a sage by all allowed
Here lies one who never drew
Here lies, whom hound did ne'er pursue
Here unmolested, through whatever sign
He who sits from day to day
Hic etiam jacet .
How oft, my Delia, since our last farewell
How oft upon yon eminence our pace
How various his employments whom the world
If ever thou hast felt another's pain.
I have loved the rural walk through lanes
I know the mind that feels indeed the fire
In him, Demosthenes was heard again
In Scotland's realm, where trees are few.
I own I am shocked at the purchase of slaves
I pity kings whom worship waits upon
I saw the woods and fields at close of day
I shall not ask Jean Jacques Rousseau
I sing of a journey to Clifton
It happened on a solemn eventide
I venerate the man whose heart is warm
I was a stricken deer that left the herd
John Gilpin was a citizen
Just when our drawing-rooms begin to blaze
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