Limps (for I might have told before That he was lame) across the floor-- Is gone-returns-and with a prize! With what? a ship of lusty size; A gallant stately man of war, Fixed on a smoothly-sliding car. Surprise to all, but most surprise To Benjamin, who rubs his eyes, Not knowing that he had befriended A man so gloriously attended!
'This," cries the sailor, “a third-rate is, Stand back, and you shall see her gratis! This was the flag-ship at the Nile, The Vanguard--you may smirk and smile, But, pretty maid, if you look near, You'll find you've much in little here! A nobler ship did never swim, And you shall see her in full trim: I'll set, my friends, to do you honour, Set every inch of sail upon her." So said, so done; and masts, sails, yards, He names them all; and interlards His speech with uncouth terms of art, Accomplished in the showman's part; And then, as from a sudden check, Cries out-"'Tis there, the quarter-deck On which brave Admiral Nelson stood-
A sight that would have roused your blood! One eye he had, which, bright as ten, Burnt like a fire among his men ; Let this be land, and that be sea, Here lay the French-and thus came we !"
Hushed was by this the fiddle's sound, The dancers all were gathered round, And, such the stillness of the house, You might have heard a nibbling mouse; While, borrowing helps where'er he may, The sailor through the story runs Of ships to ships and guns to guns And does his utmost to display The dismal conflict, and the might And terror of that wondrous night'! "A bowl, a bowl of double measure," Cries Benjamin, "a draught of length, To Nelson, England's pride and treasure, Her bulwark and her tower of strength !" When Benjamin had seized the bowl, The mastiff from beneath the waggon, Where he lay, watchful as a dragon, Rattled his chain-'twas all in vain, For Benjamin, triumphant soul! He heard the monitory growl;. Heard-and in opposition quaffed A deep, determined, desperate draught! Nor did the battered tar forget,
Or flinch from what he deemed his debt :
Then, like a hero crowned with laurel, Back to her place the ship he led ; Wheeled her back in full apparel; And so, flag flying at mast-head, Re-yoked her to the ass-anon, Cries Benjamin, "We must be gone." Thus, after two hours' hearty stay, Again behold them on their way!
RIGHT gladly had the horses stirred, When they the wished-for greeting heard, That they were free to move once more. The whip's loud notice from the door, You think these doings must have bred In them disheartening doubts and dread; No, not a horse of all the eight, Although it be a moonless night, Fears either for himself or freight; For this they know, (and let it hide, In part, the offences of their guide,) That Benjamin, with clouded brains, Is worth the best with all their pains; And, if they had a prayer to make, The prayer would be that they may take With him whatever comes in course, The better fortune or the worse; That no one else may have business near [them, And, drunk or sober, he may steer them.
So, forth in dauntless mood they fare, And with them goes the guardian pair.
Now, heroes, for the true commotion, The triumph of your late devotion! Can aught on earth impede delight, Still mounting to a higher height; And higher still-a greedy flight! Can a low-born care pursue her, Can any mortal clog come to her? No notion have they not a thought, That is from joyless regions brought ! And, while they coast the silent lake, Their inspiration 1 partake; Share their empyreal spirits-yea, With their enraptured vision, see→ O fancy-what a jubilee!
What shifting pictures-clad in gleams Of colour bright as feverish dreams! Earth, spangled sky, and lake serene, Involved and restless all-a scene Pregnant with mutual exaltation, Rich change, and multiplied creation! This sight to me the muse imparts; And then, what kindness in their hearts! What tears of rapture, what vow-making, Profound entreaties, and hand-shaking!
What solemn, vacant interlacing, As if they'd fall asleep embracing! Then, in the turbulence of glee, And in the excess of amity, Says Benjamin, "That ass of thine, He spoils thy sport, and hinders mine; If he were tethered to the waggon, He'd drag as well what he is dragging; And we, as brother should with brother, Might trudge it alongside each other?"
Forthwith, obedient to command, The horses made a quiet stand; And to the waggon's skirts was tied The creature, by the mastiff's side (The mastiff not well pleased to be So very near such company). This new arrangement made, the wain Through the still night proceeds again : No moon had risen her light to lend; But indistinctly may be kenned The VANGUARD, following close behind, Sails spread, as if to catch the wind!
Thy wife and child are snug and warm, Thy ship will travel without harm; 1 like," said Benjamin, "her shape and
And this of mine-this bulky creature Of which I have the steering-this, Seen fairly, is not much amiss!
We want your streamers, friend, you know; But altogether, as we go,
We make a kind of handsome show! Among these hills from first to last, We've weathered many a furious blast; Hard passage forcing on, with head Against the storm, and canvas spread. I hate a boaster-but to thee
Will say't, who know'st both land and sea, The unluckiest hulk that sails the brine Is hardly worse beset than mine, When cross winds on her quarter beat; And, fairly lifted from my feet,
I stagger onward-Heaven knows how- But not so pleasantly as now- Poor pilot I, by snows confounded, And many a foundrous pit surrounded! Yet here we are, by night and day [way, Grinding through rough and smooth our Through foul and fair our task fulfilling; And long shall be so yet-God willing !"
The mastiff, ill-conditioned carl! What must he do but growl and snarl, Still more and more dissatisfied With the meek comrade at his side? Till, not incensed, though put to proof, The ass, uplifting a hind hoof, Salutes the mastiff on the head; And so were better manners bred, And all was calmed and quieted.
"Yon screech-owl," says the sailor, turning
Back to his former cause of mourning, 'Yon owl!-pray God that all be well! 'Tis worse than any funeral bell; As sure as I've the gift of sight, We shall be meeting ghosts to-night !" Said Benjamin, "This whip shall lay; A thousand if they cross our way. I know that wanton's noisy station, I know him and his occupation; The jolly bird hath learned his cheer On the banks of Windermere ; Where a tribe of them make merry, Mocking the man that keeps the ferry; Halloing from an open throat, Like travellers shouting for a boat.
'The tricks he learned at Windermere This vagrant owl is playing here- That is the worst of his employment; He's in the height of his enjoyment !"'
This explanation stilled the alarm, Cured the foreboder like a charm ; This and the manner, and the voice, Summoned the sailor to rejoice; His heart is up-he fears no evil From life or death, from man or devil; He wheeled-and, making many stops, Brandished his crutch against the moun- tain tops;
And, while he talked of blows and scars, Benjamin, among the stars,
Beheld a dancing-and a glancing; Such retreating and advancing
As, I ween, was never seen
In bloodiest battle since the days of Mars!
THUS they, with freaks of proud delight, Beguile the remnant of the night; And many a snatch of jovial song Regales them as they wind along ; While to the music from on high, The echoes make a glad reply. But the sage muse the revel heeds No farther than her story needs;
Nor will she servilely attend The loitering journey to its end. Blithe spirits of her own impel The muse who scents the morning air, To take of this transported pair A brief and unreproved farewell; To quit the slow-paced waggon's side, And wander down yon hawthorn dell, With murmuring Greta for her guide. There doth she ken the awful form Of Raven-crag-black as a storm- Glimmering through the twilight pale; And Gimmer-crag,* his tall twin-brother, Each peering forth to meet the other ;- And, while she roves through St. John's Vale,
Along the smooth unpathwayed plain,
By sheep-track, or through cottage lane, Where no disturbance comes to intrude Upon the pensive solitude,
Her unsuspecting eye, perchance, With the rude shepherd's favoured glance, Beholds the faeries in array,
Whose party-coloured garments gay The silent company betray;
Red, green, and blue; a moment's sight! For Skiddaw-top with rosy light
Is touched-and all the band take flight. Fly also, muse! and from the dell Mount to the ridge of Nathdale Fell; Thence look thou forth o'er wood and
Hoar with the frost-like dews of dawn; Across yon meadowy bottom look, Where close fogs hide their parent brook; And see, beyond that hamlet small, The ruined towers of Threlkeld Hall, Lurking in a double shade,
By trees and lingering twilight made! There, at Blencathara's rugged feet, Sir Lancelot gave a safe retreat To noble Clifford; from annoy Concealed the persecuted boy, Well pleased in rustic garb to feed His flock, and pipe on shepherd's reed; Among this multitude of hills, Crags, woodlands, waterfalls, and rills; Which soon the morning shall infold, From east to west, in ample vest Of massy gloom and radiance bold.
The mists, that o'er the streamlet's bed Hung low, begin to rise and spread; Even while I speak, their skirts of gray Are smitten by a silver ray;
The crag of the ewe-lamb.
And lo!-up Castrigg's naked steep (Where, smoothly urged, the vapours sweep Along-and scatter and divide Like fleecy clouds self-multiplied) The stately waggon is ascending With faithful Benjamin attending, Apparent now beside his team- Now lost amid a glittering steam. And with him goes his sailor friend, By this time near their journey's end, And, after their high-minded riot, Sickening into thoughtful quiet; As if the morning's pleasant hour Had for their joys a killing power.
They are drooping, weak, and dull'; But the horses stretch and pull; With increasing vigour climb, Eager to repair lost time; Whether by their own desert, They are labouring to avert Knowing there is cause for shame, At least a portion of the blame, Which full surely will alight Upon his head, whom, in despite Of all his faults they love the best; Whether for him they are distressed; Or, by length of fasting roused, Are impatient to be housed; Up against the hill they strain-- Tugging at the iron chain- Tugging all with might and main— Last and foremost, every horse To the utmost of his force!
And the smoke and respiration Rising like an exhalation,
Blends with the mist,-a moving shroud To form-an undissolving cloud; Which, with slant ray, the merry sun Takes delight to play upon. Never surely old Apollo He, or other god as old, Of whom in story we are told, Who had a favourite to follow Through a battle or elsewhere, Round the object of his care, In a time of peril, threw, Veil of such celestial hue; Interposed so bright a screen Him and his enemies between !
Alas, what boots it ?-who can hide When the malicious fates are bent On working out an ill intent? Can destiny be turned aside? No-sad progress of my story! Benjamin, this outward glory
But drop the rest :-this aggravation, This complicated provocation, A hoard of grievances unsealed; All past forgiveness it repealed ;And thus, and through distempered blood On both sides, Benjamin the good, The patient, and the tender-hearted, [flight-Was from his team and waggon parted ; When duty of that day was o'er,
Cannot shield thee from thy master, Who from Keswick has pricked forth, Sour and surly as the north; And, in fear of some disaster, Comes to give what help he may, Or to hear what thou canst say; If, as needs he must forebode, Thou hast loitered on the road! His doubts-his fears may now take The wished-for object is in sight; Yet, trust the muse, it rather hath Stirred him up to livelier wrath; Which he stifles, moody man! With all the patience that he can! To the end that at your meeting He may give thee decent greeting.
There he is-resolved to stop, Till the waggon gains the top; But stop he cannot-must advance : Him Benjamin, with lucky glance, Espies, and instantly is ready, Self-collected, poised, and steady; And, to be the better seen, Issues from his radiant shroud, From his close attending cloud, With careless air and open mien. Erect his port, and firm his going;
So struts yon cock that now is crowing; And the morning light in grace Strikes upon his lifted face, Hurrying the pallid hue away That might his trespasses betray. But what can all avail to clear him, Or what need of explanation, Parley, or interrogation? For the master sees, alas! That unhappy figure near him, Limping o'er the dewy grass, Where the road it fringes, sweet, Soft and cool to way-worn feet; And, oh, indignity! an ass, By his noble mastiff's side, Tethered to the waggon's tail: And the ship, in all her pride, Following after in full sail!
Not to speak of babe and mother; Who, contented with each other, And, snug as birds in leafy arbour, Find, within, a blessed harbour!
With eager eyes the master pries: Looks in and out-and through and through;
Says nothing-till at last he spies A wound upon the mastift's head, A wound-where plainly might be read What feats an ass's hoof can do!
Laid down his whip-and served no more. Nor could the waggon long survive Which Benjamin had ceased to drive : It lingered on ;-guide after guide Ambitiously the office tried; But each unmanageable hill
Called for his patience and his skill;- And sure it is, that through this night, And what the morning brought to light, Two losses had we to sustain,
We lost both WAGGONER and WAIN !
Accept, O friend, for praise or blame, The gift of this adventurous song; A record which I dared to frame, Though timid scruples checked me long; They checked me-and I left the theme Untouched-in spite of many a gleam Of fancy which thereon was shed, Like pleasant sunbeams shifting still Upon the side of a distant hill: But nature might not be gainsaid; For what I have and what I miss I sing of these-it makes my bliss! Nor is it I who play the part, But a shy spirit in my heart,
That comes and goes-will sometimes leap From hiding-places ten years deep; Or haunts me with familiar face- Returning, like a ghost unlaid, Until the debt I owe be paid. Forgive me, then; for I had been
On friendly terms with this machine:
In him, while he was wont to trace
Our roads, through many a long year's A living almanack had we:
We had a speaking diary,
That, in this uneventful place,
Gave to the days a mark and name
By which we knew them when they came. Yes, I, and all about me here,
Through all the changes of the year, Had seen him through the mountains go, In pomp of mist or pomp of snow, Majestically huge and slow: Or, with a milder grace adorning The landscape of a summer's morning;
While Grasmere smoothed her liquid plain | Come straggling through the wind and
The moving image to detain; And mighty Fairfield, with a chime Of echoes, to his march kept time; When little other business stirred, And little other sound was heard ; In that delicious hour of balm, Stillness, solitude, and calm, While yet the valley is arrayed, On this side with a sober shade; On that is prodigally bright- Crag, lawn, and wood-with rosy light. But most of all, thou lordly wain! I wish to have thee here again, When windows flap and chimney roars, And all is dismal out of doors; And sitting by my fire, I see Eight sorry carts, no less a train ! Unworthy successors of thee,
And oft, as they pass slowly on, Beneath my window-one by one- See, perched upon the naked height The summit of a cumbrous freight, A single traveller-and there Another-then perhaps a pair- The lame, the sickly, and the old ; Men, women, heartless with the cold; And babes in wet and starveling plight; Which once, be weather as it might, Had still a nest within a nest,
Thy shelter-and their mother's breast! Then most of all, then far the most, Do I regret what we have lost; Am grieved for that unhappy sin Which robbed us of good Benjamin ;— And of his stately charge, which none Could keep alive when he was gone!
Blithe ravens croak of death; and when the owl
Tries his two voices for a favourite strain- Tu-whit-Tu-whoo! the unsuspecting fowl Forebodes mishap, or seems but to com- plain;
Fancy, intent to harass and annoy, Can thus pervert the evidence of joy.
Through border wilds where naked Indians stray,
Is heard the spirit of a toil-worn slave, Lashed out of life, not quiet in the grave!
What wonder? at her bidding, ancient lays
Steeped in dire griefs the voice of Philomel; And that fleet messenger of summer days, The swallow, twittered subject to like spell⚫ But ne'er could fancy bend the buoyant lark
To melancholy service-hark! oh, hark!
The daisy sleeps upon the dewy lawn, Not lifting yet the head that evening bowed; But he is risen, a later star of dawn, Glittering and twinkling near yon rosy cloud;
Bright gem instinct with music, vocal spark ; The happiest bird that sprang out of the ark!
Hail, blest above all kinds - Supremely skilled
[low, Myriads of notes attest her subtle skill; Restless with fixed to balance, high with A feathered task-master cries "WORK Thou leav'st the halcyon free her hopes to AWAY!" [WILL!"* build "WHIP-POOR-On such forbearance as the deep may show ; Perpetual flight, unchecked by earthly
* See Waterton's "Wanderings in South America."
Leav'st to the wandering bird of paradise,
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