There's a cuckoo, and one or two thrushes, 5
And a far-off wind that rushes,

And a sound of water that gushes,
And the cuckoo's sovereign cry
Fills all the hollow of the sky.
Who would go "parading"
In London, "and masquerading,"
On such a night of June

With that beautiful soft half-moon,

And all these innocent blisses?

On such a night as this is!

ΙΟ

15

June 8, 1802.

IX.

COMPOSED UPON AN EVENING OF EXTRAORDINARY SPLENDOUR

AND BEAUTY.

I.

HAD this effulgence disappeared
With flying haste, I might have sent,
Among the speechless clouds, a look
Of blank astonishment;

But 'tis endued with power to stay,
And sanctify one closing day,
That frail Mortality may see-
What is?-ah no, but what can be!
Time was when field and watery cove
With modulated echoes rang,
While choirs of fervent Angels sang
Their vespers in the grove;

5

ΙΟ

Or, crowning, star-like, each some sovereign

height,

Warbled, for heaven above and earth below,
Strains suitable to both.-Such holy rite,

15

Methinks, if audibly repeated now
From hill or valley, could not move
Sublimer transport, purer love,

Than doth this silent spectacle—the gleamThe shadow-and the peace supreme!

II.

No sound is uttered,-but a deep
And solemn harmony pervades
The hollow vale from steep to steep,
And penetrates the glades.
Far-distant images draw nigh,
Called forth by wondrous potency
Of beamy radiance that imbues

Whate'er it strikes with gem-like hues !
In vision exquisitely clear,

Herds range along the mountain side;
And glistening antlers are descried;
And gilded flocks appear.

Thine is the tranquil hour, purpureal Eve!
But long as god-like wish, or hope divine,
Informs my spirit, ne'er can I believe
That this magnificence is wholly thine!
-From worlds not quickened by the sun
A portion of the gift is won;

20

25

39

An intermingling of Heaven's pomp is spread On ground which British shepherds tread!

III.

And if there be whom broken ties

Afflict, or injuries assail,

Yon hazy ridges to their eyes

Present a glorious scale,

Climbing suffused with sunny air,
To stop-no record hath told where!
And tempting Fancy to ascend,
And with immortal Spirits blend!

35

40

45

-Wings at my shoulders seem to play;
But, rooted here, I stand and gaze

On those bright steps that heaven-ward raise
Their practicable way.

50

Come forth, ye drooping old men, look abroad,
And see to what fair countries ye are bound!
And if some traveller, weary of his road,
Hath slept since noon-tide on the grassy ground,
Ye Genii! to his covert speed;

And wake him with such gentle heed

As may attune his soul to meet the dower
Bestowed on this transcendent hour!

IV.

Such hues from their celestial Urn
Were wont to stream before mine eye,
Where'er it wandered in the morn
Of blissful infancy.

This glimpse of glory, why renewed?
Nay, rather speak with gratitude;
For if a vestige of those gleams
Survived, 'twas only in my dreams.

55

60

65

70

Dread Power! whom peace and calmness serve
No less than Nature's threatening voice,
If aught unworthy be my choice,
From THEE if I would swerve;

Oh, let Thy grace remind me of the light
Full early lost, and fruitlessly deplored;
Which, at this moment, on my waking sight
Appears to shine, by miracle restored;
My soul, though yet confined to earth,
Rejoices in a second birth!

'Tis past, the visionary splendour fades; And night approaches with her shades.

1818.

74

80

Note. The multiplication of mountain-ridges, described at the commencement of the third Stanza of

X.

COMPOSED BY THE SEA-SHORE.

WHAT mischief cleaves to unsubdued regret,
How fancy sickens by vague hopes beset;
How baffled projects on the spirit prey,
And fruitless wishes eat the heart away,
The Sailor knows; he best, whose lot is cast 5
On the relentless sea that holds him fast
On chance dependent, and the fickle star
Of power, through long and melancholy war.
O sad it is, in sight of foreign shores,
Daily to think on old familiar doors,

10

Hearths loved in childhood, and ancestral floors;

Or, tossed about along a waste of foam,
To ruminate on that delightful home

Which with the dear Betrothed was to come
Or came and was and is, yet meets the eye 15
Never but in the world of memory;

Or in a dream recalled, whose smoothest range
Is crossed by knowledge, or by dread, of change,
And if not so, whose perfect joy makes sleep
A thing too bright for breathing man to
keep.

Hail to the virtues which that perilous life
Extracts from Nature's elemental strife;
And welcome glory won in battles fought
As bravely as the foe was keenly sought.
But to each gallant Captain and his crew

20

25

this Ode as a kind of Jacob's Ladder, leading to Heaven, is produced either by watery vapours, or sunny haze;-in the present instance by the latter cause. Allusions to the Ode entitled "Intimations of Immortality" pervade the last Stanza of the foregoing Poem.

A less imperious sympathy is due,

Such as my verse now yields, while moonbeams play

On the mute sea in this unruffled bay;

Such as will promptly flow from every breast, Where good men, disappointed in the quest 30 Of wealth and power and honours, long for rest;

Or, having known the splendours of success, Sigh for the obscurities of happiness.

1834.

XI.

THE Crescent-moon, the Star of Love,
Glories of evening, as ye there are seen
With but a span of sky between—
Speak one of you, my doubts remove,
Which is the attendant Page and which the
Queen ?

5

1842 (?).

XII.

TO THE MOON.

COMPOSED BY THE SEASIDE,-ON THE COAST OF

CUMBERLAND.

WANDERER! that stoop'st so low, and com'st so

near

To human life's unsettled atmosphere;

Who lov'st with Night and Silence to partake, So might it seem, the cares of them that wake; And, through the cottage-lattice softly peeping, Dost shield from harm the humblest of the sleeping;

6

What pleasure once encompassed those sweet

names

Which yet in thy behalf the Poet claims,