Reprinted at the request of my Sister, in whose presence the lines were thrown off.

This Impromptu appeared, many years ago, among the Author's poems, from which, in subsequent editions, it was excluded.

THE sun has long been set,

The stars are out by twos and threes, The little birds are piping yet

Among the bushes and trees; There's a cuckoo, and one or two thrushes, 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!

COMPOSED UPON WESTMINSTER BRIDGE, SEPT. 3, 1802 1802. 1807

Written on the roof of a coach, on my way to France.

EARTH has not anything to show more fair: Dull would he be of soul who could pass by A sight so touching in its majesty:

On England's bosom; yet well pleased to rest,

Meanwhile, and be to her a glorious crest Conspicuous to the Nations. Thou, I think, Should'st be my Country's emblem; and should'st wink,

Bright Star! with laughter on her banners, drest

In thy fresh beauty. There! that dusky spot

Beneath thee, that is England; there she lies. Blessings be on you both! one hope, one lot, One life, one glory! — I, with many a fear For my dear Country, many heartfelt sighs, Among men who do not love her, linger

here.

CALAIS, AUGUST 1802
1802. 1807

Is it a reed that 's shaken by the wind,
Or what is it that ye go forth to see?
Lords, lawyers, statesmen, squires of low
degree,

Men known, and men unknown, sick, lame, and blind,

Post forward all, like creatures of one kind, With first-fruit offerings crowd to bend the

knee

In France, before the new-born Majesty.

His business as he likes. Far other show My youth here witnessed, in a prouder time;

The senselessness of joy was then sublime! Happy is he, who, caring not for Pope, Consul, or King, can sound himself to know The destiny of Man, and live in hope.

"IT IS A BEAUTEOUS EVENING, CALM AND FREE" 1802. 1807

This was composed on the beach near Calais, in the autumn of 1802.

It is a beauteous evening, calm and free,
The holy time is quiet as a Nun
Breathless with adoration; the broad sun
Is sinking down in its tranquillity;
The gentleness of heaven broods o'er the
Sea:

Listen! the mighty Being is awake,
And doth with his eternal motion make
A sound like thunder- everlastingly.
Dear Child! dear Girl! that walkest with
me here,

If thou appear untouched by solemn thought,

Thy nature is not therefore less divine: Thou liest in Abraham's bosom all the year; And worship'st at the Temple's inner shrine, God being with thee when we know it not.

Men are we, and must grieve when even

the Shade

Of that which once was great, is passed away.

THE KING OF SWEDEN
1802. 1807

THE Voice of song from distant lands shall call

To that great King; shall hail the crownèd
Youth

Who, taking counsel of unbending Truth,
By one example hath set forth to all
How they with dignity may stand; or fall,
If fall they must. Now, whither doth it
tend?

And what to him and his shall be the end? That thought is one which neither can appal

Nor cheer him; for the illustrious Swede hath done

The thing which ought to be; is raised

above

With joy in Kent's green vales; but never found

Myself so satisfied in heart before.
Europe is yet in bonds; but let that pass,
Thought for another moment. Thou art
free,

My Country! and 't is joy enough and pride

For one hour's perfect bliss, to tread the

grass

Of England once again, and hear and see, With such a dear Companion at my side.

SEPTEMBER 1, 1802
1802. 1807

Among the capricious acts of tyranny that disgraced those times, was the chasing of all Negroes from France by decree of the government: we had a Fellow-passenger who was one of the expelled.

WE had a female Passenger who came
From Calais with us, spotless in array,
A white-robed Negro, like a lady gay,
Yet downcast as a woman fearing blame;
Meek, destitute, as seemed, of hope or aim
She sate, from notice turning not away,
But on all proffered intercourse did lay
A weight of languid speech, or to the same
No sign of answer made by word or face:
Yet still her eyes retained their tropic fire,
That, burning independent of the mind,
Joined with the lustre of her rich attire
To mock the Outcast. O ye Heavens, be
kind!

And feel, thou Earth, for this afflicted Race!

This was written immediately after my return from France to London, when I could not but be struck, as here described, with the vanity and parade of our own country, especially in great towns and cities, as contrasted with the quiet, and I may say the desolation, that the revolution had produced in France. This must be borne in mind, or else the reader may think that in this and the succeeding Sonnets I have exaggerated the mischief engendered and fostered among us by undisturbed wealth. It would not be easy to conceive with what a depth of feeling I entered into the struggle carried on by the Spaniards for their deliverance from the usurped power of the French. Many times have I gone from Allan Bank in Grasmere vale, where we were then residing, to the top of the Raise-gap as it is called, so late as two o'clock in the morning, to meet the carrier bringing the newspaper from Keswick. Imperfect traces of the state of mind in which I then was may be found in my Tract on the Convention of Cintra, as well as in these Sonnets.

O FRIEND! I know not which way I must look

For comfort, being, as I am, opprest,
To think that now our life is only drest
For show; mean handy-work of craftsman,

cook,

MILTON! thou should'st be living at this hour:

England hath need of thee: she is a fen
Of stagnant waters: altar, sword, and pen,
Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and
bower,

Have forfeited their ancient English dower
Of inward happiness. We are selfish men;
'Oh! raise us up, return to us again;
And give us manners, virtue, freedom,
power.

Thy soul was like a Star, and dwelt apart: Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea:

Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free, So didst thou travel on life's common way, In cheerful godliness; and yet thy heart The lowliest duties on herself did lay.

"GREAT MEN HAVE BEEN AMONG US"

1802. 1807

GREAT men have been among us; hands that penned

And tongues that uttered wisdom - better

none:

The later Sidney, Marvel, Harrington, Young Vane, and others who called Milton friend.

These moralists could act and comprehend:
They knew how genuine glory was put on;
Taught us how rightfully a nation shone
In splendour: what strength was, that
would not bend

But in magnanimous meekness. France, 't is strange,

Hath brought forth no such souls as we had

then.

Perpetual emptiness! unceasing change! No single volume paramount, no code, No master spirit, no determined road; But equally a want of books and men!

"IT IS NOT TO BE THOUGHT OF"

1802. 1807

Ir is not to be thought of that the Flood Of British freedom, which, to the open sea Of the world's praise, from dark antiquity Hath flowed, "with pomp of waters, unwithstood,"

Roused though it be full often to a mood
Which spurns the check of salutary bands,
That this most famous Stream in bogs and
sands

Should perish; and to evil and to good
Be lost for ever. In our halls is hung
Armoury of the invincible Knights of old:
We must be free or die, who speak the
tongue

That Shakspeare spake; the faith and morals hold

Which Milton held. - In everything we are

The student's bower for gold, some fears unnamed

I had, my Country !-am I to be blamed?
Now, when I think of thee, and what thou art,
Verily, in the bottom of my heart,
Of those unfilial fears I am ashamed.
For dearly must we prize thee; we who find
In thee a bulwark for the cause of men:
And I by my affection was beguiled:
What wonder if a Poet now and then,
Among the many movements of his mind,
Felt for thee as a lover or a child!

COMPOSED AFTER A JOURNEY ACROSS THE HAMBLETON HILLS, YORKSHIRE

1802. 1807

Composed October 4th, 1802, after a journey over the Hambleton Hills, on a day memorable to me the day of my marriage. The horizon commanded by those hills is most magnificent. The next day, while we were travelling in a post-chaise up Wensleydale, we were stopt by one of the horses proving restive, and were obliged to wait two hours in a severe storm before the post-boy could fetch from the inn another to supply its place. The spot was in front of Bolton Hall, where Mary Queen of Scots was kept prisoner soon after her unfortunate landing at Workington. The place then belonged to the Scroopes, and memorials of her are yet preserved there. To beguile the time I composed a Sonnet. The subject was our own confinement contrasted with hers; but it was not thought worthy of being preserved.

DARK and more dark the shades of evening fell;

The wished-for point was reached - but at an hour

When little could be gained from that rich dower

Of prospect, whereof many thousands tell. Yet did the glowing west with marvellous