And, while with all a mother's love

She from the lofty rocks above

Sent forth a cry forlorn,

The Lamb, still swimming round and round, Made answer to that plaintive sound.

When he had learnt what thing it was,
That sent this rueful cry; I ween
The Boy recovered heart, and told
The sight which he had seen.
Both gladly now deferred their task;
Nor was there wanting other aid -
A Poet, one who loves the brooks

Far better than the sages' books,

By chance had hither strayed;

And there the helpless Lamb he found By those huge rocks encompassed round.

He drew it gently from the pool,

And brought it forth into the light:

The Shepherds met him with his charge,

An unexpected sight!

Into their arms the Lamb they took,

Said they, "He's neither maimed nor scarred."

Then up the steep ascent they hied,
And placed him at his Mother's side;
And gently did the Bard

Those idle Shepherd-boys upbraid,
And bade them better mind their trade.

To II. C.

SIX YEARS OLD.

O THOU! whose fancies from afar are brought; Who of thy words dost make a mock apparel, And fittest to unutterable thought

The breeze-like motion and the self-born carol;
Thou faery Voyager! that dost float

In such clear water, that thy Boat
May rather seem

To brood on air than on an earthly stream;
Suspended in a stream as clear as sky,
Where earth and heaven do make one imagery;

O blessed Vision! happy Child!
That art so exquisitely wild,

I think of thee with many fears

For what may be thy lot in future years.

I thought of times when Pain might be thy guest,
Lord of thy house and hospitality;
And Grief, uneasy Lover! never rest
But when she sute within the touch of thee.
O too industrious folly!

O vain and causeless melancholy!
Nature will either end thee quite:

Or, lengthening out thy season of delight, Preserve for thee, by individual right,

A young Lamb's heart among the full-grown flocks. What hast Thou to do with sorrow,

Or the injuries of to-morrow?

Thou art a Dew-drop, which the morn brings forth,

Ill fitted to sustain unkindly shocks;

Or to be trailed along the soiling earth;

A gem that glitters while it lives,
And no forewarning gives;

But, at the touch of wrong, without a strife
Slips in a moment out of life.

INFLUENCE OF NATURAL OBJECTS

IN CALLING FORTH AND STRENGTHENING THE IMAGINA TION IN BOYHOOD AND EARLY YOUTH.

From an unpublished Poem.

(This extract is reprinted from "THE FRIEND.")

WISDOM and Spirit of the Universe
Thou Soul, that art the Eternity of thought'
And givest to forms and images a breath
And everlasting motion! not in vain,

By day or star-light, thus from my first dawn
Of childhood didst thou intertwine for me
The passions that build up our human soul;
Not with the mean and vulgar works of Man,-
But with high objects, with enduring things,
With life and nature; purifying thus
The elements of feeling and of thought,
And sanctifying by such discipline
Both pain and fear,-until we recognise
A grandeur in the beatings of the heart.

Yet at this impressive season, Words which tenderness can speak

From the truths of homely reason, Might exalt the loveliest cheek;

The Pack loud-bellowing, and the hunted hare.
So through the darkness and the cold we flew,
And not a voice was idle: with the din
Meanwhile the precipices rang aloud;
The leafless trees and every icy crag
Tinkled like iron; while the distant hills
Into the tumult sent an alien sound

Of melancholy, not unnoticed, while the stars, Eastward, were sparkling clear, and in the west The orange sky of evening ared away.

Not seldom from the uproar I retired

Into a silent bay, or sportively

Glanced sideway, leaving the tumultuous throng,

To cut across the reflex of a Star,

Image, that, flying still before me, gleamed
Upon the glassy plain: and oftentimes,
When we had given our bodies to the wind,
And all the shadowy banks on either side
Came sweeping through the darkness, spinning still
The rapid line of motion, then at once
Have I, reclining back upon my heels,
Stopped short; yet still the solitary cliffs
Wheeled by me-even as if the earth had rolled
With visible motion her diurnal round!
Behind me did they stretch in solemn train,
Feebler and feebler, and I stood and watched
Till all was tranquil as a summer sea.*