More daring far than Eippogriff,
And be thy own delight!
To the stone-table in my garden.
Loved hannt of many a summer hour,
The Squire is come: hia danghter Besa
Beside him in the cool recess
Sits blooming like a flower.
With these are many more convened;
They know not I have been so far; —
I see them there, in number nine,
Beneath the spreading Weymouth-pine I
I see them,—there they arel
There sits the Vicar and his Dame;
And there my good friend, Stephen Otter;
And, ere the light of evening fail,
To them I must reLite the Tale
Of Peter Bell the Potter."
Off flew the Boat,—away she flees,
Spurning her freight with indignation!
And I, as well as I was able,
On two poor legs, toward my stone-table
Limp'd on with sore vexation.
"O, here he is!" cried little Bess,—
She saw me at the garden-door:
" We've waited anxiously and long,"
They eried, and all around me throng,
Full nine of them or more.
" Beproach me not,—your fears be still,—
Be thankful we again have met:
Resume, my Friends, within the shade
Your seats, and quickly shall be paid
The well-remember'd debt."
I spake with faltering voice, like one
Not wholly rescued from the pale
Of a wild dream, or worse illusion;
But, straight, to cover my confusion,
Began the promised Tale.
Aw. by the moonlight river-side
Groan'd the poor Beast, — alas I in vain;
The staff was raised to loftier height,
And the blows fell with heavier weight
As Peter struck, and struck again.
"Hold!" eried the Squire, "against the
rules
Of common sense you're surely sinning; This leap Is for us all too bold:
Who Peter was, let thit be told.
And start from the beginning."
A Potter,' Sir, ha was by trade,
Said I, becoming quite collected;
And wheresoever he appeared
Full twenty times was Peter fearM
For once that Peter was respected.
He, two-and-thirty years or more,
Had been a wild and woodland rove»;
Had heard th" Atlantic surges roar
On farthest Cornwall's rocky shore,
And trod the cliffs of Dover.
And he had seen Caernarvon's towers.
And well he knew the spire of Sarum;*
AnJ he had been where Lincoln bell
Flings o'er the fen that ponderous knell,—
A far-renowu'd alarum!
At Doncaster, at York, and Leeds,
And merry Carlisle had he baeu;
And all along the Lowlands lair.
All through the bonny shire of Ayr'
And far as Aberdeen.
And he had been at Inverness;
And Peter, by the mountain-rills,
Had danced his round with Highland
And he had lain beside his asses [lasses;
On lofty Cheviot Hills:
And he had trudged through Yorkshire
dales,
Among the rocks and winding scars; •
Where deep and low the hamlets lie
Beneath their little pateh of sky
And little lot of stai-j;
And all along th' indented co ist,
Bespatter'd with the salt-sea foam;
Where'er a knot of houses lay
On headland, or in hollow bay; —
Sure never man like him did roam I
7 In the dialect of the North of England, a peddler of earthenware is called a puller.
8 Sarum is an old contraction of Salisbury. The spire of Sulialrarv Cathedral is considered the finest in England. I think it is also the highest. G'x'r.-iarron is a seaport nn the strain of Menai in tho north-west corner of Wales.
y .s'rar, sometimes spelt *ravr. Is a hnrt a-id broken place on a iide of a mountain, or in the high bank of a river.
As well might Peter, in the Fleet,i
Have been fast bound, a begging <lobtor.
He travell'd here, he travell'd there;
Uut nut the value of a hair
Was heart or head the better.
He roved among the vales and streams,
In the green wood and hollow dell,—
They were his dwellings night and day;
£ut Nature ne'er could find the way
Tnto the heart of Peter Bell.
In vain, through every changeful year,
Did Nature lead him as before:
A primrose by a river's brim
A yellow primrose was to him,
And it was nothing more.
Small change it made in Peter's heart
To see his gentle pannier'd train
With more than vernal pleasure feeding,
Where'er the tender grass was leading
Its earliest green along the lane.
In vain, through water, earth, and air,
The soul of happy sound was spread,
When Peter on some April morn.
Beneath the broom or budding thorn,
Made the warm earth his lazy bed.
At noon, when by the forest's edge
He lay beneath the branches high,
The soft blue sky did never melt
Into his heart; he never felt
The witehery of the soft blue sky 1
On a fair prospect some have look'd
And felt, ns I have heard them say,
As if the moving time had been
A thing as steadfast as the scene
On which they gazed themselves away.
Within the breast of Peter Bell
These silent raptures found no place:
He was a Carl as wild and rude
As ever hue-and-ery pursued,
As e?er ran a felon's race.
Of all that lead a lawless life.
Of all that love their lawless lives,
In city or in village small,
He was the wildest far of all; —
He had a dozen wedded wives.
Nay, start not! —wedded wives, anj twelve 1 fhim,
But how one wife could e'er come near
In simple truth I cannot tell;
For, be it said of Peter Bell,
To see him was to four him.
Though Nature could not touch hia heart
3y lovely forms, and silent weather,
And tender sounds, yet you might see
At once, that Peter Bell and she
Had often been together.
A savage wildness round him hung
As of a dweller out of doors;
In his whole figure and his mien
A savage character was seen
Of mountains and of dreary moors.
To all th' u ishaped half-human thought!
Which solitary Nature feeds
.Mid summjr storms or Winter's ice,
Had Peter join'd whatever vice
The eruel eity breeds.
[Us face was keen as is the wind
That cuts alo:ig the hawthorn-fence;
Of courage you saw little there,
But, in its stead, a medley air
Of cunninj and of impudence.
Lie had a dark and sidelong walk,
And long and slouching was his gait;
ueueath his looks so bare aud bold.
You might perceive, his spirit cold
Was playing with some inward bait.
His forehead wrinkled was and furr'd;
A work, one half of which was done
By thinking of his wkcnsi and hows;
And h ilf, by knitting of his brows
Benjath the glaring Sun.
Tlierc was a hardness in his cheek.
There was a hardness in his eye,
As if the man had flx'd his face,
In many a solitary place,
Against the wind and open sky! «
1 TJie Fleet is the name of one of the old London prisons. It seems to have been specially used for confining insol -1sut debtors.
2 The poem of Peter Sell, though prood enough i.i itself, is not so well cuiti'd ns mnny o'.hir- lire to the purpose of this volume; while, from its length, it would occupy more room than can well l>e spared for a i-iofe of that kind. No apology, I llii'ik, will be required for including iho Prologue and the description of the hero. The poem was published i:» 1819, but wua written as early as 17';8
PRESENTIMENTS. Presentiments I they jndge not right Who deem that ye from open light
Retire in fear of shame; Vll Heaven-born Instincts shun the touch Of vulgar sense,—and, being such,
Such privilege ye claim.
The tear whose souree I could not guess,
The deep sigh that seem'd fatherless,
Were mine in early days;
And now, unforced by time to part
With fancy, I obey my heart,
And venture on your praise.
What though some busy foes to good,
Too potent over nerve and blood,
Lurk near you, — and combine
To taint the health which ye infuse;
This hides not from the moral Muse
Your origin divine.
How oft from you, derided Powers!
Comes Faith that in auspicious hours
Builds castles, not of air:
Bodings unsanction'd by the will
Flow from your visionary skill,
And teach us to beware.
The bosom-weight, your stubborn gift.
That no philosophy can lift.
Shall vanish, if ye please,
Like morning mist; and, where it lay,
The spirits at your bidding play
In gaiety and ease.
Star-guided contemplations move Through space, though calm, not raised
Prognostics that ye rule ; [above
The naked Indian of the wild,
And haply, too, the eradled Child,
Are pupils of your school.
Bat who can fathom your intents,
Number their signs or instruments?
A rainbow, a sunbeam,
A subtle emell that Spring unbinds,
Dead pause abrupt of midnight winds,
An echo, or a dream.
The laughter of the Christinas hearth
With sighs of self-exhausted mirth
Ye feelingly reprove;
And daily, in the conscious breast,
Your visitations are a test
•»nd exercise of love.
When some great change gives boundless
To an exulting Nation's hope, [scope
Oft, startled and made wise
By your low-breathed interpretings,
The simply-meek foretaste the springs
Of bitter contraries.5
Ye daunt the prond array of war,
Pervade the lonely ocean far
As sail hath been unfurl'd;
For dancers in the festive hall
What ghastly partners hath your call
Feteh'd from the shadowy world I
'Tis said, that warnings ye dispense,
Embolden'd by a keener sense;
That men have lived for whom,
With dread precision, ye made clear
The hour that in a distant year
Should knell them to the tomb.
Unwelcome insight! Yet there are
Blest times when mystery is laid bare,
Trnth shows a glorious face,
While on the isthmus which commands
The councils of both worlds, she stands,
Sage Spirits! by your grace.
od, who instructs the brntes to scent All changes of the element,
Whose wisdom fix'd the scale
Of natures, for our wants provides
By higher, sometimes humbler, guides,
When lights of reason fail. [1830.
U this great world of joy and pain
Revolve in one sure trark;
If freedom, set, will rise again,
And virtue, flown, come back;
Woe to the purblind erew who till
The heart with each day's care; Nor gain, from past or fnture, eki'H
To bear, and to forbear I [I833
3 In this stanza, the poet is said to hnve had in mind the then recent convulsion in France which pushed Charles the Tenth from the throne. While the more sanguine commonly wax cnthusia^c over such noisy and emphatic changes, supposing them ahont to usher in new eras of freedom and happim-ss, more thoughtful minds ::re apt t.i prognostic-ate just the opposite, as knowing that real improvement among men generally proceeds oj the methods of growth, which are sloU and silent.
SEPTEMBER, 1819.
The sylvan slopes with corn-clad fields
Are hung, as if with golden shields,
Bright trophies of the Sun I
Like a fair sister of the sky,
Unruffled doth the blue lake lie,
The mountains looking on.
And, sooth to say, yon yocal grove,
Alh^it uninspired by love,
By love untanght to ring,
May well afford to mortal ear
An impulse more profoundly dear
Than music of the Spring.
For that from turbulence and heat
Proceeds, from some uneasy seat
lu nature's struggling frame,
Some region of impatient lift;
And jealousy, and quivering strife,
Therein a portion claim.
This, this is holy;—while I hear
These vespers of another year,
This hymn of thanks aud praise,
.My spirit seems to mount above
ThJ anxieties of human love,
And Earth's precarious days.
But list!—though winter storms be nigh,
Uncheck'd is that soil harmony:
There lives who can provide
For all His ereatures; and in Him,
Even like the radiant Seraphim,
These choristers couildo.
UPON THE SAME OCCASION.
Departing Summer hath assumed
An aspect tenderly illumed,
The gentlest look of Spring;
That calls from yonder leafy shade
Unladed, yet prepared to fade,
A timely carolling.
No faint and hesitating trill.
Such tribute as to Winter chill
The lonely redbreast pays 1
Clear, loud, and lively is the din,
From social warblers gathering in
Their harvest of sweet lays.
Nor doth th' example fail to cheer
Me, conscious that my leaf is sere,
And yellow on the bough:—
Fall, rosy garlands, from my head 1
Ye myrtle wreaths, your fragrance shed
Around a younger brow I
Yet will I temperately rejoice:
Wide is the range, and free the choice
Of undiscordant themes;
Which, haply, kindred souls may prize
Not less than vernal eestasies,
And passion's feverish dreams.
For deathless powers to verse belong,
And they like Demi-gods are strong
On whom the Muses smile;
But some their function have disclaimed,
Best pleased with what is aptliest framed
To enervate and defile.
Not such th' initiatory strains
Committed to the silent plains
In Britain's earliest dawn:
Trembled the groves, the stars grew pale,
While all-too-daringly the veil
Of Nature was withdrawn!
Nor such the spirit-stirring note
When the live chords Alcasus smoto,
Inflamed by sense of wroag:
Woe! woe to Tyrants! from the lyre
Broke threateningly, in sparkles dire
Of fieree, vindictive song.
And not unhallow'd was the page
By winged Love inseribe!, to assuage
The pangs of vain pursuit;
Love listening while the Lesbian Maid
With finest touch of passion sway'd
Her own JEolian lute.*
O ye who patiently explore
The wreck of Herculanean lore,
What rapture! could ye seize
Some Theban fragment, or unroll
One precious, tender-hearted seroll
Of pure Simonides.
4 The "Lesbian Maid" is S.nppho, celebrated in classic lore for her impassioned love-lyrics. The ancient writers agree in expressing the most unbounded adminu tion of her poetry. She was coutumporary with Solon, who is said ta have been so affected at the recitation of one of her poems, that he expressed an earnest cle. sire to learn it before he died. Only a few fragments of her poetry have survived.
That were, indeed, a genuine birth
Of poesy; a bursting forth
Of genius from the dust:
What Horace gloried to behold,
What Maro loved, shall wo enfold?
Can haughty Time be j ust I [l8l9.
MEMOBY.
A PEN — to register; a key—
That winds through secret wards;
Are well assign'd to Memory
By allegoric Bards.
As aptly, also, might be given
A Pencil to her hand;
That, softening objects, sometimes even
Ontstrips the heart's demand;
That smoothes foregone distress, the lines
Of lingering care subdues,
J,ong-vanish'd happiness refines,
Amt clothes in brighter hues;
Yet, like a tool of Fancy, works
Those Spectres to dilate
That startle Conscience, as she lurks
Within her lonely seat.
O, that our lives, which flee so last,
In purity were such.
That nut an image of the past
Should fear that pencil's touch!
Retirement then might hourly look
Upon a soothing scene,
Age steal to his allotted nook
Contented and serene;
With heart as calm as hikes that sleep,
In frosty moonlight glistening;
Or mountain rivers, where they ereep
Along a channel smooth and deep,
To their own far-oil' murmurs listening.
This lawn, a carpet all alive
With shadows flung from leaves, to strive
In dance amid a press
Of sunshine, an apt emblem yields
Of Worldlings revelling in the fields
Of strenuous idleness:
Less quick the stir when tide and breozo
Encounter, and to narrow seas
Forbid a moment's rest;
The medley less when boreal Lights
Glance to and fro, like aery Sprites
To feats of arms addrestl
Yet, spite of all this eager strife,
This ceaseless play, the genuine life
That serves the steadfast hours
Is in the grass beneath that grows
Unheeded, and the mnte repose
Of sweetly-breathing flowers.5 [l829.
Lives there a man whose sole delights
Are trivial pomp and city noise,
Hardening a heart that loathes or slights
What every natural heart enjoys?
Who never caught a uoou-tide dream
From murmur of a running stream?
Could strip, for aught the prospect yie'ds
To him, their verdure from the flulds ?
And take the radiance from the clonds
In which the Sun his setting shrouds?
A soul so pitiably forlorn,
If such do on this Earth abide,
May season apathy with scorn,
May turn indifference to pride;
And still be not uublest, —compared
With him who grovels, self-debarr'd
From all that lies within the scope
Of holy faith and Christian lu»pj;
5 Hundreds of times have I watched the dancing of shadows amid a press ot sunshine, and oiher beantiful appearances of light and shade, flowers ami shrubs. Some ure of opinion tliut Ihu haoit of analysing, decomposing, and a nut' musing is unfavourable to the pereetitio.i of bdMty. 1'eople are led into th.s mistake by overlooking the tact lhat, sueh processes being to a certain exteni witluu me reach. of a limited intellect, we are apt lo aseribe to them that insensibility of whirh. they are in trnth tho effect, an.1 not the cause. Admiration and love, to whnrn all knowledge truly vital mutt lend, aro felt by men of real genius in proportion as their discoveries in natural Pahosophy are enlarged; and Ihe beauly i.i lorm of a plant or an animal is not made less but more apparent as a whole, by moro :ieeurate insight into its constituent properties and powers. A meant, who is not also a poet in soul and a religionist hl heart, is a leelde and unhappy ereature. -Auihur'i Kotei.
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