Can it be called) which they with blended might

Accomplish: this is our high argument.

Such grateful haunts foregoing, if I oft

Must turn elsewhere

to travel near the tribes

And fellowships of men, and see ill sights
Of madding passions mutually inflamed;
Must hear Humanity in fields and groves
Pipe solitary anguish; or must hang
Brooding above the fierce confederate storm
Of sorrow, barricadoed evermore

Within the walls of cities may these sounds
Have their authentic comment; that even these
Hearing, I be not downcast or forlorn! -

4

Descend, prophetic Spirit! that inspir'st
The human Soul of universal earth,
Dreaming on things to come; and dost possess
A metropolitan temple in the hearts
Of mighty Poets; upon me bestow

A gift of genuine insight; that my Song
With star-like virtue in its place may shine,
Shedding benignant influence, and secure
Itself from all malevolent effect

Of those mutations that extend their sway
Throughout the nether sphere! And if with this

I mix more lowly matter; with the thing
Contemplated, describe the mind and Man

Contemplating; and who, and what he was

The transitory Being that beheld

This Vision;

when and where, and how he lived;

Be not this labour useless. If such theme

May sort with highest objects, then - dread Power!

Whose gracious favour is the primal source
Of all illumination may my Life

Express the image of a better time,

More wise desires, and simpler manners; - nurse

My Heart in genuine freedom: - all pure thoughts
Be with me; so shall thy unfailing love
Guide, and support, and cheer me to the end!

THE BROTHERS

1800 1800

This poem was composed in a grove at the north-eastern end of Grasmere lake, which grove was in a great measure destroyed by turning the high-road along the side of the water. The few trees that are left were spared at my intercession. The poem arose out of the fact, mentioned to me at Ennerdale, that a shepherd had fallen asleep upon the top of the rock called The Pillar, and perished as here described, his staff being left midway on the rock.

"THESE Tourists, heaven preserve us! needs must live A profitable life: some glance along,

Rapid and gay, as if the earth were air,
And they were butterflies to wheel about
Long as the summer lasted: some, as wise,
Perched on the forehead of a jutting crag,
Pencil in hand and book upon the knee,
Will look and scribble, scribble on and look,
Until a man might travel twelve stout miles,
Or reap an acre of his neighbour's corn.

But, for that moping Son of Idleness,

Why can he tarry yonder? — In our churchyard
Is neither epitaph nor monument,

To Jane, his wife,

Thus spake the homely Priest of Ennerdale.
It was a July evening; and he sate

Upon the long stone-seat beneath the eaves
Of his old cottage, as it chanced, that day,
Employed in winter's work. Upon the stone
His wife sate near him, teasing matted wool,
While, from the twin cards toothed with glittering wire,
He fed the spindle of his youngest child,

Who, in the open air, with due accord

Of busy hands and back-and-forward steps

Her large round wheel was turning. Towards the field

In which the Parish Chapel stood alone,

Girt round with a bare ring of mossy wall,

While half an hour went by, the Priest had sent

Many a long look of wonder: and at last,

Risen from his seat, beside the snow-white ridge
Of carded wool which the old man had piled
He laid his implements with gentle care,
Each in the other locked; and, down the path
That from his cottage to the churchyard led,
He took his way, impatient to accost
The Stranger, whom he saw still lingering there.

"T was one well known to him in former days,
A Shepherd-lad; who ere his sixteenth year
Had left that calling, tempted to entrust

His expectations to the fickle winds
And perilous waters; with the mariners

A fellow-mariner; and so had fared

-

Through twenty seasons; but he had been reared
Among the mountains, and he in his heart

Was half a shepherd on the stormy seas.
Oft in the piping shrouds had Leonard heard
The tones of waterfalls, and inland sounds

Of caves and trees: - and, when the regular wind

Between the tropics filled the steady sail,

And blew with the same breath through days and weeks, Lengthening invisibly its weary line

Along the cloudless Main, he, in those hours

Of tiresome indolence, would often hang
Over the vessel's side, and gaze and gaze;

And, while the broad blue wave and sparkling foam
Flashed round him images and hues that wrought

In union with the employment of his heart,
He, thus by feverish passion overcome,
Even with the organs of his bodily eye,

Below him, in the bosom of the deep,

Saw mountains; saw the forms of sheep that grazed
On verdant hills with dwellings among trees,

And shepherds clad in the same country grey

Which he himself had worn."

And now, at last,