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TV Helvetian Girl, who daily braves,
Her beanty dazzles the thick wood;
"Sweet Highland Girll a very shower
But from our course why turn, to tread
7 Soe the poem To a Highland Giri, page 1GO.
The Votaress by Lugano's side; And that intrepid Nymph on L'li's steep deseried I
The Youth whose death gave occasion to these elegiac verses was Frederick William Uoddard, 1'rom Boston in North America. He was in his twentieth year, and had resided for some time with a clergyman in the neighbourhood of Geneva for the completion of his education. Accompanied by a fellow-pupil, a native of Scotland, he hud just set out on a Swiss tour when it was bis misfortune to fall in with a friend of mine who was hastening to join onr party. The travellers, after spending a day together on the road from Berne and Solcure, took leave of each other ai night, the young men having intended to proceed directly to Zurich. We ascended the Klghi together; nd separated at an hour and on a spot 'ell suited to the parting of those who 'erc to meet no more. We had hoped to meet in a few weeks at Geneva; but on ic third succeeding day (tho21st of Angst) Mr. Goddard perished, being overset i .1 boat while erossing tiie lake or Zuich.
Lull'd by the sound of pastoral bells,
The sky was blue, the air was mild;
And we were gay, our hearts at ease;
If foresight could have rent the veil
8 The Latin name, n&iina Moiitinm, in Italian Mount Riyhi, siguifies Queen oi mountains.
O GoDDAitD! what art thou ?—a name,—
We met, while festive mirth ran wild,
We parted upon solemn ground
Fetch, sympathising Powers of air,
Belov'd by every gentle Muse
He left his Transatlantic home :
Europe, a realised romance,
Had open'd on his eager glance;
What present bliss! what golden views!
What stores for years to come I
Tho' lodged within no vigorous frame,
Xot vain is sadly-ntterM praise;
Lamented Youth! to thy cold clay
And, when thy Mother weeps for Thee,
ADDRESS TO THE SCHOLARS OP THE
I COME, ye little noisy Crew,
Your hands, dear Little-ones, do all
Here did he sit confined for hours; Rut he could see the woods and plains, Could hear the wind and mark the showerf
Come streaming down the streaming panes. [mound
Now etreteh'd beneath his grass-green
Thou one blind Sailor, rich in joy
Thou drooping sick Man, bless the Guide Who check'd or turn'd thy headstrong As he before had sanctified [yonth,
Thy infancy with heavenly trnth.
Te Striplings, light of heart and gay.
For us who here in funeral strain
And when our hearts shall feel a sting
BT THE SIDE OF THE GRAVE SOME
Li is,-; time his pulse hath ceased to beat;
To stately nail and Cottage rnde
O true of heart, of spirit gay I
Such solace find we for our loss;
IN MEMORY OF MT BROTHER, JOHN WORDSWORTH,
Oommnnder of the East India
The Sheep-boy whistled lond, and, lol
Thus in the weakness of my heart
I spoke, (bnt let that pang be still,)
When rising from the rock at will,
I saw the Bird depart.
And let me calmly bless the Power
That meets me in this unknown Flower,
Affecting type of him I mourn I
With calmness suffer and believe,
And grieve, and know that I must grieve,
Not cheerless, though forlorn.
Here did we stop; and here look'd round
l The subject of this piece is the same as of The Two April Morninrls and Thi F untain. See pages I46 and l47.
2 The point is two or three yards below the ontlet of Grisdale tarn on a footroad by which a horse may pass to I'atcrdole; a ridge of Hclvellyn on the lef\ and the summit of Fairflcld on the rigtt — Author's Notes, l843.
Hidden was Grasmore Vale friv.u sight,
Full soon in sorrow did I weep,
Tanght that the mutual hope was dust, —
In sorrow, but for higher trust,
How miserably deep I
All vanish'd in a single word,
A breath, a sound, and scareely heard.
Sea— Ship—drown'd — Shipwreck—so it
The meek, the brave, the good, was gone;
That was indeed a parting! O,
Glad am I, glad that it is past!
For there were some on whom it cast
But they as well as I have gains; —
From many a humble source, to pains
Like these, there comes a mild release;
Even here I feel it, even this Plants
Is in its beanty ministrant
To comfort and to peace.
He would have loved thy modest grace,
Brother and friend, if verse of mine
3 The pHnt alluded to is the Moss Campion. This most beantiful plant is scarce in England, though it is found in great abundance upon the mountains of Scotlan'l. The ilrst specimen 1 ever saw of it, in its native bed, was singularly fine, the tuft or cushion being at least eight inches in diameter, ana the root -voportionubly thick.
Long as these mighty rocks endure, —
[Composed at Grasmere, during a walk one Evening, after a stormy day, the Author having just read in a Newspaper that the dissolution of Mr. Fox was hourly expected.] Loud is the Vale I the Voice is up With which she speaks when storms are A mighty unison of streams I [gone,
Of all her Voices, One!
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,
4 The poet repeatedly celebrates the virtues and the sad death of his brother John. In a letter to his friend Sir George Beanmont, dated March 12, ISO.% he makes the following reflections, started by that event: "Why have we sympathies that make the best of us so afraid of inflicting pain and sorrow, which yet we see dealt about so lavishly by the supreme Governor? Why should our notions of right tov\'ards each other, and to all sentient beings within our influence, differ so vyidely from what appears to be His notion and rule, if everything were to end heret Would it not be blasphemy to say that, upon the supposition of tiie think, ing prmciple being destrolled by death, however inferiorwe may be to the Cause and Ruler of things, we have more "f love in our nature than He has ? The thought is monstrous; and yet how to get rid of it, except upon the supposition of another and a better wortd, 1 do not see. As to my departed brother, who Icadsour minds at present to these reflections, he walked all his life pure among many impure."
Such ebb and flow must ever be,
Then wherefore should we mourn? [1806.
(Addresseed to Sir O. H. B. upon the death
of his Sister-in-law.) O For a dirge 1 But why complain ? Ass lather a trinmphal strain Vr'hcu FEBMOii's race is run; A garland of immortal boughs To ! wine around the Christian's brows, Whose glorious work is done.
We pay a high and holy debt;
No tears of passionate regret
Shall stain this votive lay:
111-worthy, Beanmont I were the grief
That flings itself on wild relief
When . ','i iiilh have pass'd away.
Sad doom, at Sorrow's shrine to kneel,
For ever covetous to feel,
And impotent to bearl
Such once was hers, — to think and think
On scver'd love, and only sink
From anguish to despair!
I!ut nature to its inmost part
Was ever Spirit that could bend
So graciously? — that could descend,
Another's need to suit,
So promptly from her lofty throne? —
In works of love, in these alone,
llow restless, how minute 1
1'ale was her hue; yet mortal cheek
Such look th' Oppressor might confound,
But hush'd be every thought that springs
As snowdrop on an infant's grave,
Or lily heaving with the wave
That feeds it and defends;
As Vesper, ere the star hath kiss'd
The mountain-top, or breathed the mist
That from the vale ascends.
Thou takest not away, O Death!
EXTEMPORE EFFUSION UPON THE DEATH
When first, descending from the moor
I saw the Stream of Yarrow glide
When last along its banks I wander'd,
The mighty Minstrel breathes no longci,
6 This lady [Mrs. Frances Fci-mor] had been a widow long before 1 knew her. Her husband was of the family of the lady celebrated in The Rape uf the J.ock. The sorrow which his death cansed her was fearful in its character as deseribed in this poem, but was subdued in courso of time by the strength of her religious faith. I have been, for many weeks lit a time, an inmate with her at Coleortou Hall, as were also Mrs. Wordsworth and my 6ister. The truth in the sketch of her character here given was acknowledged with gratitude by her nearest relatives. She was eloquent in conversation, energetic upon public matters, open in respect to those,butslowto communicate her personal feelings; upon these she never touched in her intercourse with me, so that I could not regard myself as her confidential friend, and was'accordingly surprised when I leimit she had lell me a legacy of £100 as a token of her esteem. — Author's A'.i'.es, 184:i.
6 Alluding to the occasion of the poem yarrow Visited. See page Ki5
7 Alluding to the occasion of the poem Yurroio Revisited. See page 1<>7, note 10.
8 Sir Walter Scott died Sept. 21,1SB.
9 James Hogg, long and widely-distinguished at " the Ettrick Shepherd,* died in November, 1835.