Fly also, Muse! and from the dell

Mount to the ridge of Nathdale Fell;

Thence, look thou forth o'er wood and lawn
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,
Lurling in a double shade,

By trees and lingering twilight made:
There, at Blencathra's rugged feet,
Sir Launcelot 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, water-falls, and rills;
Which soon the morning shall enfold,
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,
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, Knowing there is cause for shame, They are labouring to avert 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 distrest; Or, by length of fasting roused, Are impatient to be housed; Up against the hill they strain Tugging at the iron chainTugging a with night 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 forman undissolving cloud; Which, with slant ray, the merry sun Takes delight to play upon.

Never Venus or Apollo,

Pleased a favourite chief to follow
Through accidents of peace or war,

In a time of peril threw,
Round the object of his care,
Veil of such celestial hue;
Interposed so bright a screen

Him and his enemies between!

who can hide

Alas! what boots it?
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
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 flight

-

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,

(what need of explanation,

Parley or interrogation?

For the Master sees, alas!
That unhappy Figure near him,
Laping o'er the dewy grass,
Where the road it fringes, sweet,
Nd and cool to way worn feet;
O indignity! an Ass,
Bus noble Mastiff's side,
Tethered to the Waggon's tail;
As the Ship, in all her pride,
Fawing after in full sail!

to speak of Babe and Mother, W contented with each other,

snug as birds in leafy arbour, Tad, within, a blessed harbour!

With eager eyes the Master pries;

Tasks in and out-and through and through; Save nothing-till at last he spies

A wound upon the Mastiff's head,

A wound-where plainly might be read
Wat feats an Ass's hoof can do!

But drop the rest: this aggravation,
Thas complicated provocation,
A board of grievances unsealed;
A past forgiveness it repealed; -

And thus, and through distempered blood
both sides, Benjamin the good,
The patient, and the tender-hearted,
Wfrom his Team and Waggon parted:
Wen duty of that day was o'er,

Lan down his whip-and served no more.
We could the Waggon long survive
Wach Benjamin had ceased to drive:
Ingered on; -Guide after Guide
Antiously the office tried;
Beach unmanageable hill

aed for his patience and his skill;-
A sure it is, that through this night,
And what the morning brought to light,
Two losses had we to sustain,
Wast both WAGGONER and WAIN!

Art, O Friend, for praise or blame, The rt of this adventurous song; A red which I dared to frame, Tgh timid scruples checked me long; y checked me and I left the theme ched-in spite of many a gleam fancy which thereon was shed, Lake pleasant sunbeams shifting still Txa the side of a distant hill:

Nature might not be gainsaid; In what I have and what I miss ag 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 space,
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 milder grace adorning

The Landscape of a summer's morning;
While Grasmere smoothed her liquid plain
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,

Come straggling through the wind and rain;
And oft, as they passed 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;

This poem, and two others to the same Flower, were written in the year 1802; which is mentioned, because in some of the ideas, though not in the manner in which those ideas are connected, and likewise even in some of the expressions, there is a resemblance to passages in a Poem (lately published) of Mr. Montgomery's, entitled, a Field Flower. This being said, Mr. Montgomery will not think any apology due to him; I cannot, however, help addressing him in the words of the Father of English Poets.

"Though it happe me to rehersin

That ye han in your freshe songis saied,
Forberith me, and beth not ill apaied,
Sith that ye se I doe it in the honour
Of Love, and eke in service of the Flour."

But Benjamin in his vexation,
Possesses inward consolation;

He knows his ground, and hopes to find
A spot with all things to his mind,
An upright mural block of stone,
Moist with pure water trickling down.
A slender spring; but kind to man
It is a true Samaritan;

Close to the highway, pouring out
Its offering from a chink or spout;
Whence all, howe'er athirst, or drooping
With toil, may drink, and without stooping.

Cries Benjamin "Where is it, where? Voice it hath none, but must be near." -A star declining towards the west, Upon the watery surface threw

Its image tremulously imprest,

That just marked out the object and withdrew: Right welcome service!

*

ROCK OF NAMES! Light is the strain, but not unjust To Thee and thy memorial-trust That once seemed only to express Love that was love in idleness; Tokens, as year hath followed year How changed, alas, in character! For they were graven on thy smooth breast By hands of those my soul loved best; Meek women, men as true and brave As ever went to a hopeful grave: Their hands and mine, when side by side With kindred zeal and mutual pride, We worked until the Initials took Shapes that defied a scornful look.Long as for us a genial feeling Survives, or one in need of healing, The power, dear Rock, around thee cast, Thy monumental power, shall last For me and mine! O thought of pain, That would impair it or profane! Take all in kindness then, as said With a staid heart but playful head; And fail not Thou, loved Rock! to keep Thy charge when we are laid asleep.'

THERE was a Boy; ye knew him well, ye Cliffs
And islands of Winander!—many a time,
At evening, when the earliest stars began
To move along the edges of the hills,
Rng or setting, would he stand alone,
Beneath the trees, or by the glimmering lake;
And there, with fingers interwoven, both hands
Pressed closely palm to palm and to his mouth
Ted, he, as through an instrument,
Ew mimic hootings to the silent owls,

That they might answer him. And they would shout
Arross the watery vale, and shout again,
Responsive to his call,- with quivering peals,
And long halloos, and screams, and echoes loud
Redoubled and redoubled; concourse wild

Earth and jocund din! And, when it chanced
That pauses of deep silence mocked his skill,
Ten, sometimes, in that silence, while he hung
Listening, a gentle shock of mild surprise
Hus carried far into his heart the voice
(f mountain torrents; or the visible scene
Wald enter unawares into his mind

With all its solemn imagery, its rocks,

Is woods, and that uncertain heaven, received
Into the bosom of the steady lake.

Potent was the spell that bound thee, Not unwilling to obey;

For blue Ether's arms, flung round thee Stilled the pantings of dismay.

Lo! the dwindled woods and meadows!
What a vast abyss is there!
Lo! the clouds, the solemn shadows,
And the glistenings-heavenly fair!

And a record of commotion
Which a thousand ridges yield;
Ridge, and gulf, and distant ocean
Gleaming like a silver shield!

-Take thy flight; - possess, inherit
Alps or Andes- they are thine!
With the morning's roseate Spirit,
Sweep their length of snowy line;

Or survey the bright dominions
In the gorgeous colours drest
Flung from off the purple pinions,
Evening spreads throughout the west!

Thine are all the coral fountains
Warbling in each sparry vault
Of the untrodden lunar mountains;
Listen to their songs! —or halt,

To Niphate's top invited,
Whither spiteful Satan steered;
Or descend where the ark alighted,
When the green earth re-appeared;

For the power of hills is on thee,
As was witnessed through thine eye
Then, when old Helvellyn won thee
To confess their majesty!

Built round by those white clouds, enormous clouds,
Still deepens its unfathomable depth.

At length the Vision closes; and the mind,
Not undisturbed by the delight it feels,
Which slowly settles into peaceful calm,
Is left to muse upon the solemn scene.

WATER-FOWL.

"Let me be allowed the aid of verse to describe the evol tions which these visitants sometimes perform, on a fine day towards the close of winter."-Extract from the Author's Book on the Lakes.

MARK how the feathered tenants of the flood,
With grace
of motion that might scarcely seem
Inferior to angelical, prolong

Their curious pastime! shaping in mid air
(And sometimes with ambitious wing that soars
High as the level of the mountain tops)

A circuit ampler than the lake beneath,
Their own domain; - but ever, while intent
On tracing and retracing that large round,
Their jubilant activity evolves
Hundreds of curves and circlets, to and fro,
Upward and downward, progress intricate
Yet unperplexed, as if one spirit swayed
Their indefatigable flight. "T is done -
Ten times, or more, I fancied it had ceased;
But lo! the vanished company again
Ascending; they approach—I hear their wings
Faint, faint at first; and then an eager sound

Past in a moment and as faint again!
They tempt the sun to sport amid their plumes;
They tempt the water, or the gleaming ice,
To show them a fair image; -'tis themselves,
Their own fair forms, upon the glimmering plain,
Painted more soft and fair as they descend
Almost to touch; - then up again aloft,
Up with a sally and a flash of speed,

As if they scorned both resting-place and rest!

YEW-TREES.

THERE is a Yew-tree, pride of Lorton Vale,
Which to this day stands single, in the midst
Of its own darkness, as it stood of yore,
Not loth to furnish weapons for the Bands
Of Umfraville or Percy ere they marched
To Scotland's Heaths; or those that crossed the Sea
And drew their sounding bows at Azincour,
Perhaps at earlier Crecy, or Poictiers.
Of vast circumference and gloom profound
This solitary Tree! - a living thing
Produced too slowly ever to decay;