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hful offspring in Man's art; and Time, used with your triumphs o'er his brother Space, Aerpt from your bold hands the proffered crown Kape, and smiles on you with cheer sublime.

XLII.

OTHER! in thy majestic pile are seen edral pomp and grace, in apt accord the baronial castle's sterner mien; 1 significant of God adored,

charters won and guarded by the sword tient honour; whence that goodly state PAty which wise men venerate, Me: wll maintain, if God his help afford. ury the democratic torrent swells;

ay promises and hopes suborned

strength of backward-looking thoughts is scorned. Faye must, ye Towers and Pinnacles,

what ye symbolise, authentic Story
ar, Ye disappeared with England's Glory!

XLIII.

TO THE EARL OF LONSDALE.*

"Magistratus indicat virum."

TwoLLE! it were

unworthy of a Guest,

se heart with gratitude to thee inclines,
eld speak, by fancy touched, of signs

y abode harmoniously imprest,
be innoved with wishes to attest
how a thy mind and moral frame agree
Fide and that christian Charity

Killing, consecrates the human breast. At the Motto on thy 'scutcheon teach tre, THE MAGISTRACY SHOWS THE MAN;" The searching test thy public course has stood; A be owned alike by bad and good, Se as the measuring of life's little span pace thy virtues out of Envy's reach.

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XLIV.

TO CORDELIA M

HALLSTEADS, ULLSWATER.

NoT in the mines beyond the western main,
You tell me, Delia! was the metal sought,
Which a fine skill, of Indian growth, has wrought
Into this flexible yet faithful Chain;

atok place at the Cumberland Assizes, when the Earl of written immediately after certain trials

Nor is it silver of romantic Spain

You say, but from Helvellyn's depths was brought
Our own domestic mountain. Thing and thought
Mix strangely; trifles light, and partly vain,
Can prop, as you have learnt, our nobler being:
Yes, Lady, while about your neck is wound
(Your casual glance oft meeting) this bright cord,
What witchery, for pure gifts of inward seeing,
Lurks in it, Memory's Helper, Fancy's Lord,
For precious tremblings in your bosom found!

XLV. CONCLUSION

Most sweet it is with unuplifted eyes
To pace the ground, if path be there or none,
While a fair region round the Traveller lies,
Which he forbears again to look upon;
Pleased rather with some soft ideal scene,
The work of Fancy, or some happy tone
Of meditation, slipping in between
The beauty coming and the beauty gone.
If Thought and Love desert us, from that day
Let us break off all commerce with the Muse;
With Thought and Love companions of our way,
Whate'er the senses take or may refuse,

The Mind's internal Heaven shall shed her dews
Of inspiration on the humblest lay.

STANZAS

SUGGESTED

IN A STEAM-BOAT OFF ST. BEES' HEADS, ON THE COAST OF CUMBERLAND.

St. Bees' Heads, anciently called the Cliff of Baruth, are a conspicuous sea-mark for all vessels sailing in the N. E. parts of the Irish Sea. In a Bay, one side of which is formed by the southern headland, stands the village of St. Bees; a place distinguished, from very early times, for its religious and scholastic foundations.

"St. Bees," say Nicholson and Burns, "had its name from

Lees in morequence of repeated and long continued attacks Bega, an holy woman from Ireland, who is said to have founded character, through the local press, had thought it here, about the year of our Lord 650, a small monastery, where precute the conductors and proprietors of three several afterwards a church was built in memory of her.

Fra A terdict of Ebel was given in one case; and in the

"The aforesaid religious house, being destroyed by the Danes,

the precution were withdrawn, upon the individuals was restored by William de Meschiens, son of Ranulph, and Sad been made, and promising to abstain from the like in after the Conquest; and made a cell of a prior and six Beneod diving the charges, expressing regret that brother of Ranulph de Meschiens, first Earl of Cumberland

dictine monks to the Abbey of St. Mary at York."

Several traditions of miracles, connected with the foundation of the first of these religious houses, survive among the people of the neighbourhood; one of which is alluded to in the following Stanzas; and another, of a somewhat bolder and more peculiar character, has furnished the subject of a spirited poem by the Rev. R. Parkinson, M. A., late Divinity Lecturer of St. Bees' College, and now Fellow of the Collegiate Church

of Manchester.

After the dissolution of the monasteries, Archbishop Grindal

founded a free school at St. Bees, from which the counties of

Cumberland and Westmoreland have derived great benefit; and recently, under the patronage of the Earl of Lonsdale, a college has been established there for the education of ministers for the English Church. The old Conventual Church has been repaired under the superintendence of the Rev. Dr. Ainger, the Head of the College; and is well worthy of being visited by any strangers who might be led to the neighbourhood of this celebrated spot.

The form of stanza in the following Piece, and something in the style of versification, are adopted from the "St. Monica," a poem of much beauty upon a monastic subject, by Charlotte Smith; a lady to whom English verse is under greater obligations than are likely to be either acknowledged or remembered. She wrote little, and that little unambitiously, but with true feeling for nature.

1.

IF Life were slumber on a bed of down,
Toil unimposed, vicissitude unknown,
Sad were our lot: no Hunter of the Hare
Exults like him whose javelin from the lair
Has roused the Lion; no one plucks the Rose,
Whose proffered beauty in safe shelter blows
'Mid a trim garden's summer luxuries,

With joy like his who climbs on hands and knees,
For some rare Plant, yon Headland of St. Bees.

2.

This independence upon oar and sail,
This new indifference to breeze or gale,
This straight-lined progress, furrowing a flat lea,
And regular as if locked in certainty,
Depress the hours. Up, Spirit of the Storm!
That Courage may find something to perform;
That Fortitude, whose blood disdains to freeze
At Danger's bidding, may confront the seas,
Firm as the towering Headlands of St. Bees.

3.

Dread Cliff of Baruth! that wild wish may sleep,
Bold as if Men and Creatures of the Deep
Breathed the same element: too many wrecks
Have struck thy sides, too many ghastly decks
Hast thou looked down upon, that such a thought
Should here be welcome, and in verse enwrought:
With thy stern aspect better far agrees
Utterance of thanks that we have past with ease,
As millions thus shail do, the Headlands of St. Bees.

4.

Yet, while each useful Art augments her store,
What boots the gain if Nature should lose more
And Wisdom, that once held a Christian place
In Man's intelligence sublimed by grace?
When Bega sought of yore the Cumbrian Coast,
Tempestuous winds her holy errand crossed;
As high and higher heaved the billows, faith
Grew with them, mightier than the powers of dea
She knelt in prayer- the waves their wrath appe
And, from her vow well weighed in Heaven's deci
Rose, where she touched the strand, the Chaunt

St. Bees.

5.

"Cruel of heart were they, bloody of hand,"
Who in these Wilds then struggled for command:
The strong were merciless, without hope the wea
Till this bright Stranger came, fair as Day-break,
And as a Cresset true that darts its length
Of beamy lustre from a tower of strength;
Guiding the Mariner through troubled seas,
And cheering oft his peaceful reveries,
Like the fixed Light that crowns yon headland
St. Bees.

6.

To aid the Votaries, miracles believed
Wrought in men's minds, like miracles achieved;
So piety took root; and Song might tell
What humanizing Virtues round her Cell
Sprang up, and spread their fragrance wide around.
How savage bosoms melted at the sound

Of gospel-truth enchained in harmonics
Wafted o'er waves, or creeping through close tree
From her religious Mansion of St. Bees.

7.

When her sweet Voice, that instrument of love,
Was glorified, and took its place, above
The silent stars, among the angelic Quire,
Her Chauntry blazed with sacrilegious fire,
And perished utterly; but her good deeds
Had sown the spot that witnessed them with seeds
Which lay in earth expectant, till a breeze
With quickening impulse answered their mute ple
And lo! a statelier Pile, the Abbey of St. Bees.

8.

There were the naked clothed, the hungry fed; And Charity, extended to the Dead,

Her intercessions made for the soul's rest

Of tardy Penitents: or for the best

Among the good (when love might else have slept.
Sickened, or died) in pious memory kept.
Thanks to the austere and simple Devotees,
Who, to that service bound by veniel fees.
Kept watch before the Altars of St. bees.

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THE Tour of which the following poems are very inadequate remembrances was shortened by report, too well founded, of the prev of cholera at Naples. To make some amends for what was reluctantly left unseen in the South of Italy, we visited the Tuscan tuaries among the Apennines, and the principal Italian Lakes among the Alps. Neither of those lakes, nor of Venice, is the notice in these Poems, chiefly because I have touched upon them elsewhere. See, in particular, "Descriptive Sketches," "Memor a Tour on the Continent in 1820," and a Sonnet upon the extinction of the Venetian Republic.

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Its neighbour and its namesake - town, and flood
Forth flashing out of its own gloomy chasm
Bright sunbeams the fresh verdure of this lawn
Strewn with grey rocks, and on the horizon's verge,
O'er intervenient waste, through glimmering haze,
Unquestionably kenned, that cone-shaped hill
With fractured summit, no indifferent sight
To travellers, from such comforts as are thine,
Bleak Radicofani! escaped with joy —
These are before me; and the varied scene
May well suffice, till noontide's sultry heat
Relax to fix and satisfy the mind

With dream-like smoothness, to Helvellyn's top,
There to alight upon crisp moss and range,
Obtaining ampler boon, at every step,
Of visual sovereignty - hills multitudinous,
(Not Apennine can boast of fairer) hills
Pride of two nations, wood and lake and plains,
And prospect right below of deep coves shaped
By skeleton arms, that from the mountain's truck
Extended, clasp the winds, with mutual moan
Struggling for liberty, while undismayed
The shepherd struggles with them. Onward the
And downward by the skirt of Greenside fell,
And by Glenridding-screes, and low Glencoign,
Places forsaken now, though loving still
The muses, as they loved them in the days
Of the old minstrels and the border bards.-
But here am I fast bound; and let it pass,
The simple rapture; - who that travels far
To feed his mind with watchful eyes could share
Or wish to share it? - One there surely was,

66

The Wizard of the North," with anxious hope Brought to this genial climate, when disease Preyed upon body and mind—yet not the less Had his sunk eye kindled at those dear words That spake of bards and minstrels; and his sp.rit Had flown with mine to old Helvellyn's brow, Where once together, in his day of strength,

Passive yet pleased. What! with this broom in flower We stood rejoicing, as if earth were free

Close at my side! She bids me fly to greet

Her sisters, soon like her to be attired

With golden blossoms opening at the feet

Of my own Fairfield. The glad greeting given,
Given with a voice and by a look returned
Of old companionship, Time counts not minutes
Ere, from accustomed paths, familiar fields,
The local Genius hurries me aloft,
Transported over that cloud-wooing hill,
Seat Sandal, a fond suitor of the clouds,

From sorrow, like the sky above our heads.

Years followed years, and when upon the eve Of his last going from Tweed-side, thought turne Or by another's sympathy was led,

To this bright land, Hope was for him no friend,
Knowledge no help; Imagination shaped
No promise. Still, in more than ear-deep seats
Survives for me, and cannot but survive
The tone of voice which wedded borrowed words

adress not their own, when, with faint smile
by intent to take from speech its edge,
"When I am there, although 'tis fair,
be another Yarrow." Prophecy

Athan fulfilled, as gay Campania's shores
See witnessed, and the city of seven hills,

-parking fountains, and her mouldering tombs; As more than all, that Eminence which showed spiendours, seen, not felt, the while he stood ↑ ** short steps (painful they were) apart De Tisso's Convent-haven, and retired grave.

Prace to their Spirits! why should Poesy
Yad to the lure of vain regret, and hover

gam on wings with confidence outspread
Tmore in sunshine! - Utter thanks, my Soul!
Truppered with awe, and sweetened by compassion
Frem who in the shades of sorrow dwell,

1-so near the term to human life A rented by man's common heritage,

the frailest, one withal (if that werve a thought) but little known to fame Afee to rove where Nature's loveliest looks, As est relics, history's rich bequests, Fed to reanimate and but feebly cheered The ate world's Darling-free to rove at will ga and low, and if requiring rest, enjoyment only.

Thanks poured forth Fatat thus far hath blessed my wanderings, thanks rst but humble as the lips can breathe

re gadness seems a duty let me guard e seeds of expectation which the fruit Anady gathered in this favoured Land

s within its core. The faith be mine, He who guides and governs all, approves Tangrattude, though disciplined to look

these transient spheres, doth wear a crown early hope put on with trembling hand; Na least pleased, we trust, when goldeu beams, feed through the mists of age, from hours

cent delight, remote or recent,

* but a little way - 't is all they can

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be doubtful future. Who would keep ve must resolve to cleave to it through life, 1 deserts him, surely as he lives.

Over waves rough and deep, that, when they broke,
Dashed their white foam against the palace walls
Of Genoa the superb — should there be led
To meditate upon his own appointed tasks,
However humble in themselves, with thoughts
Raised and sustained by memory of him
Who oftentimes within those narrow bounds
Rocked on the surge, there tried his spirit's strength
And grasp of purpose, long ere sailed his ship
To lay a new world open.

would not grieve nor guardian angels frown - while tossed, as was my lot to be, fra bark urged by two slender oars *se words were quoted to me from "Yarrow Un4. by Sir Walter Scott, when I visited him at Ab***d a day or two before his departure for Italy: and *fecting condition in which he was when he looked Rome from the Janicular Mount, was reported to me ady who had the honour of conducting him thither. 480 Mr. Lockhart's interesting and pathetic account Werview of Scor" and Wordsworth, in the Life Chap 1xxx., Vol. X., p. 104, &c.

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Water Scott

- R.J

Nor less prized

Be those impressions which incline the heart
To mild, to lowly, and to seeming weak,
Bend that way her desires. The dew, the storm -
The dew whose moisture fell in gentle drops

On the small hyssop destined to become,
By Hebrew ordinance devoutly kept,
A purifying instrument - the storm
That shook on Lebanon the cedar's top,
And as it shook, enabling the blind roots
Further to force their way, endowed its trunk
With magnitude and strength fit to uphold
The glorious temple - did alike proceed
From the same gracious will, were both an offspring
Of bounty infinite.

Between Powers that aim
Higher to lift their lofty heads, impelled
By no profane ambition, Powers that thrive
By conflict, and their opposites, that trust
In lowliness-a mid-way tract there lies
Of thoughtful sentiment for every mind
Pregnant with good. Young, middle-aged, and old,
From century on to century, must have known
The emotion nay, more fitly were it said.
The blest tranquillity that sunk so deep
Into my spirit, when I paced, enclosed
In Pisa's Campo Santo, the smooth floor
Of its Arcades paved with sepulchral slabs,
And through each window's open fret-work looked
O'er the blank area of sacred earth
Fetched from Mount Calvary, or haply delved
In precincts nearer to the Saviour's tomb,
By hands of men, humble as brave, who fought
For its deliverance-a capacious field
That to descendants of the dead it holds
And to all living mute memento breathes,
More touching far than aught which on the walls
Is pictured, or their epitaphs can speak,
Of the changed City's long departed power,
Glory, and wealth, which, perilous as they are,
Here did not kill, but nourished, Piety.
And, high above that length of cloistral roof,
Peering in air and backed by azure sky,
To kindred contemplations ministers
The Baptistery's dome, and that which swells
From the Cathedral pile; and with the twain
Conjoined in prospect mutable or fixed
(As hurry on in eagerness the feet,
Or pause) the summit of the Leaning-tower.

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