X.

LINES

Composed at Grasmere, during a walk one Evening, after a stormy day, the Author having just read in a Newspaper that the dissolution of Mr. Fox was hourly expected.

LOUD is the Vale! the Voice is up

With which she speaks when storms are gone,
A mighty unison of streams!

Of all her Voices, one!

Loud is the Vale; - this inland Depth

In peace is roaring like the Sea;

Yon star upon the mountain-top
Is listening quietly.

Sad was I, even to pain depressed,
Importunate and heavy load!*
The Comforter hath found me here,
Upon this lonely road,

And many thousands now are sad, -
Wait the fulfilment of their fear:
For he must die who is their stay,
Their glory disappear.

A Power is passing from the earth
To breathless Nature's dark abyss;

-

Importuna e grave salma. MICHAEL ANGELO.

But when the great and good depart
What is it more than this, -

That man, who is from God sent forth,
Doth yet again to God return?

Such ebb and flow must ever be,

Then wherefore should we mourn?

1806.

XI.

INVOCATION TO THE EARTH

FEBRUARY, 1816.

I.

"REST, rest, perturbed Earth!

O rest, thou doleful Mother of Mankind!" A Spirit sang in tones more plaintive than the wind "From regions where no evil thing has birth

I come,

thy stains to wash away,

Thy cherished fetters to unbind,

And open thy sad eyes upon a milder day.

The Heavens are thronged with martyrs that have

risen

From out thy noisome prison;

The penal caverns groan

With tens of thousands rent from off the tree

Of hopeful life, - by battle's whirlwind blown
Into the deserts of Eternity.

Unpitied havoc! Victims unlamented!

But not on high, where madness is resented.
And murder causes some sad tears to flow,
Though, from the widely-sweeping blow,
The choirs of Angels spread, triumphantly aug
mented.

II.

"False Parent of mankind!

Obdurate, proud, and blind,

I sprinkle thee with soft celestial dews,
Thy lost, maternal heart to re-infuse!
Scattering this far-fetched moisture from my wings,
Upon the act a blessing I implore,

Of which the rivers in their secret springs,
The rivers stained so oft with human gore,
Are conscious; may the like return no more!

May Discord, for a Seraph's care

Shall be attended with a bolder prayer,
May she, who once disturbed the seats of bliss
These mortal spheres above,

Be chained for ever to the black abyss!
And thou, O rescued Earth, by peace and love,
And merciful desires, thy sanctity approve!"

The Spirit ended his mysterious rite, And the pure vision closed in darkness infinite.

XII.

LINES

WRITTEN ON A BLANK LEAF IN A COPY OF THE AUTHOR'S
POEM “THE EXCURSION," UPON HEARING OF THE DEATH
OF THE LATE VICAR OF KENDAL.

To public notice, with reluctance strong,
Did I deliver this unfinished Song;
Yet for one happy issue; - and I look
With self-congratulation on the Book

Which pious, learned MURFITT saw and read ;-
Upon my thoughts his saintly Spirit fed;
He conned the new-born Lay with grateful

heart,

Foreboding not how soon he must depart;

Unweeting that to him the joy was given Which good men take with them from earth to heaven.

XIII.

ELEGIAC STANZAS.

(ADDRESSED TO SIR G. H. B. UPON THE DEATH OF HIS SISTER-IN-LAW.)

1824.

O FOR a dirge! But why complain?

Ask rather a triumphal strain

When FERMOR's race is run;

A garland of immortal boughs

To twine around the Christian's brows,
Whose glorious work is done.

We pay a high and holy debt;
No tears of passionate regret
Shall stain this votive lay;

Ill-worthy, Beaumont! were the grief
That flings itself on wild relief

When Saints have passed away.

Sad doom, at Sorrow's shrine to kneel,
For ever covetous to feel,

And impotent to bear!

Such once was hers, - to think and think

On severed love, and only sink

From anguish to despair!

But nature to its inmost part

Faith had refined; and to her heart

A peaceful cradle given:

Calm as the dew-drop's, free to rest

Within a breeze-fanned rose's breast

Till it exhales to Heaven.

Was ever Spirit that could bend
So graciously? that could descend,
Another's need to suit,

So promptly from her lofty throne? -
In works of love, in these alone,
How restless, how minute!