Yet then, when called ashore, he sought To your abodes, bright daisy Flowers! But hark the word!—the ship is gone ;— Once more on English earth they stand: Ill-fated Vessel!-ghastly shock! -At length delivered from the rock, The deep she hath regained; And through the stormy night they steer; To reach a safer shore-how near, 'Silence!' the brave Commander cried; To that calm word a shriek replied, It was the last death-shriek. -A few (my soul oft sees that sight) 30 40 That neighbourhood of grove and field The birds shall sing and ocean make A mournful murmur for his sake; And Thou, sweet Flower, shalt sleep and wake VIII ELEGIAC VERSES 70 1805 IN MEMORY OF MY BROTHER, JOHN WORDSWORTH COMMANDER of the E. I. Company's ship, the Earl of Abergavenny, in which he perished by calamitous shipwreck, Feb. 6th, 1805. Composed near the mountain track, that leads from Grasmere through Grisdale Hawes, where it descends towards Patterdale. T 1805 I HE Sheep-boy whistled loud, and lo! Lord of the air, he took his flight; II Thus in the weakness of my heart And let me calmly bless the Power That meets me in this unknown Flower, Affecting type of him I mourn! With calmness suffer and believe, And grieve, and know that I must grieve, III Here did we stop; and here looked round 10 20 Hidden was Grasmere Vale from sight, Of blessedness to come. IV Full soon in sorrow did I weep, Taught that the mutual hope was dust, How miserably deep! All vanished in a single word, A breath, a sound, and scarcely heard. The meek, the brave, the good, was gone; He who had been our living John Was nothing but a name. That was indeed a parting! oh, Glad am I, glad that it is past; 40 For there were some on whom it cast But they as well as I have gains ;- To comfort and to peace. VI He would have loved thy modest grace, Meek Flower! To Him I would have said, 'It grows upon its native bed Beside our Parting-place; There, cleaving to the ground, it lies With multitude of purple eyes, Spangling a cushion green like moss; Some day, to see it in its pride, 50 60 The plant alluded to is the Moss Campion (Silene acaulis, of Linnæus). This most beautiful plant is scarce in England, though it is found in great abundance upon the mountains of Scotland. The first specimen I ever saw of it, in its native bed, was singularly fine, the tuft or cushion being at least eight inches in diameter, and the root proportionably thick. I have only 30 W VII -Brother and friend, if verse of mine And to the few who pass this way, IX SONNET 70 1805 HY should we weep or mourn, Angelic boy, For such thou wert ere from our sight removed, Holy, and ever dutiful-beloved From day to day with never-ceasing joy, And hopes as dear as could the heart employ In aught to earth pertaining? Death has proved But Heaven is now, blest Child, thy Spirit's home: Is felt, thy Roman burial-place will be Surely a sweet remembrancer of Thee. ΤΟ X 1846 the COMPOSED at Grasmere, during a walk one Evening, after a stormy day, Author having just read in a Ñewspaper that the dissolution of Mr. Fox was hourly expected. OUD is the Vale! the Voice is up L With which she speaks when storms are gone, A mighty unison of streams! Of all her Voices, One! met with it in two places among our mountains, in both of which I have since sought for it in vain. Botanists will not, I hope, take it ill, if I caution them against carrying off, inconsiderately, rare and beautiful plants. This has often been done, particularly from Ingleborough and other mountains in Yorkshire, till the species have totally disappeared, to the great regret of lovers of nature living near the places where they grew. See among the Poems on the 'Naming of Places,' No. vi., vol. 1., p. 239. Loud is the Vale;-this inland Depth Sad was I, even to pain deprest, And many thousands now are sad- A Power is passing from the earth That Man, who is from God sent forth, Such ebb and flow must ever be, Then wherefore should we mourn? 1806 XI INVOCATION TO THE EARTH FEBRUARY, 1816 I 'REST, rest, perturbed Earth! O rest, thou doleful Mother of Mankind!' A Spirit sang in tones more plaintive than the wind: 'From regions where no evil thing has birth I come-thy stains to wash away, Thy cherished fetters to unbind, And open thy sad eyes upon a milder day. The Heavens are thronged with martyrs that have risen From out thy noisome prison; The penal caverns groan With tens of thousands rent from off the tree Of hopeful life,-by battle's whirlwind blown 1 Importuna e grave salma.-MICHAEL ANGELO. ΤΟ 20 ΤΟ |