FAR from my dearest Friend, 'tis mine to rove Through bare grey dell, high wood, and pastoral cove;

Where Derwent rests, and listens to the roar That stuns the tremulous cliffs of high Lindore; Where peace to Grasmere's lonely island leads,

To willowy hedge-rows, and to emerald meads; Leads to her bridge, rude church, and cottaged grounds,

Her rocky sheepwalks, and her woodland bounds;

Where, undisturbed by winds, Winander sleeps 'Mid clustering isles, and holly-sprinkled steeps; Where twilight glens endear my Esthwaite's shore,

And memory of departed pleasures, more.

Fair scenes, erewhile, I taught, a happy child,

The echoes of your rocks my carols wild:
The spirit sought not then, in cherished sadness,
A cloudy substitute for failing gladness.
In youth's keen eye the livelong day was bright,
The sun at morning, and the stars at night,
Alike, when first the bittern's hollow bill
Was heard, or woodcocks roamed the moon-
light hill.

In thoughtless gaiety I coursed the plain,
And hope itself was all I knew of pain;
For then, the inexperienced heart would beat
At times, while young Content forsook her

road.

Alas! the idle tale of man is found
Depicted in the dial's moral round;
Hope with reflection blends her social rays
To gild the total tablet of his days;
Yet still, the sport of some malignant power,
He knows but from its shade the present hour.

But why, ungrateful, dwell on idle pain?
To show what pleasures yet to me remain,
Say, will my Friend, with unreluctant ear,
The history of a poet's evening hear?

When, in the south, the wan noon, brooding still,

Breathed a pale steam around the glaring hill, And shades of deep-embattled clouds were

When horses in the sunburnt intake* stood,
And vainly eyed below the tempting flood,
Or tracked the passenger, in mute distress,
With forward neck the closing gate to press-
Then, while I wandered where the huddling
rill

Brightens with water-breaks the hollow ghyll t
As by enchantment, an obscure retreat
Opened at once, and stayed my devious feet.
While thick above the rill the branches close,
In rocky basin its wild waves repose,
Inverted shrubs, and moss of gloomy green,
Cling from the rocks, with pale wood-weeds
between;

And its own twilight softens the whole scene,
Save where aloft the subtle sunbeams shine
On withered briars that o'er the crags recline;
Save where, with sparkling foam, a small

cascade

Illumines, from within, the leafy shade;
Beyond, along the vista of the brook,
Where antique roots its bustling course o'erlook,
The eye reposes on a secret bridge
Half grey, half shagged with ivy to its ridge;
There, bending o'er the stream, the listless

swain

Lingers behind his disappearing wain.
-Did Sabine grace adorn my living line,
Blandusia's praise, wild stream, should yield to

thine!

Never shall ruthless minister of death 'Mid thy soft glooms the glittering steel unsheath;

No goblets shall, for thee, be crowned with flowers,

No kid with piteous outcry thrill thy bowers;
The mystic shapes that by thy margin rove
A mind, that, in a calm angelic mood
A more benignant sacrifice approve —

Of happy wisdom, meditating good,
Beholds, of all from her high powers required,
Much done, and much designed, and more
desired,-

Harmonious thoughts, a soul by truth refined,
Entire affection for all human kind.

But now the sun has gained his western road, And eve's mild hour invites my steps abroad.

While, near the midway cliff, the silvered kite In many a whistling circle wheels her flight; Slant watery lights, from parting clouds, apace Travel along the precipice's base;

Cheering its naked waste of scattered stone,
By lichens grey, and scanty moss, o'ergrown;
Where scarce the foxglove peeps, or thistle's

beard;

And restless stone-chat, all day long, is heard.

How pleasant, as the sun declines, to view The spacious landscape change in form and hue!

*The word intake is local, and signifies a mountain-inclosure.

† Ghyll is also, I believe, a term confined to this country: ghyll, and dingle, have the same meaning.