While she sat listening in the shade,
With vocal music, "God us ayde!"
And all the hills were glad to bear
Their part in this effectual prayer.

Nor lacked she Reason's firmest power;
But with the White Doe at her side
Up doth she climb to Norton Tower,
And thence looks round her far and wide.
Her fate there measures,-all is stilled,-
The feeble hath subdued her heart;
Behold the prophecy fulfilled,

Fulfilled, and she sustains her part!
But here her brother's words have failed,-
Here hath a milder doom prevailed;
That she, of him and all bereft,
Hath yet this faithful partner left,-
This single creature that disproves
His words, remains for her, and loves.
If tears are shed, they do not fall
For loss of him, for one or all;

Yet, sometimes, sometimes doth she weep
Moved gently in her soul's soft sleep;
A few tears down her cheek descend
For this her last and living friend.

Bless, tender hearts, their mutual lot,
And bless for both this savage spot!
Which Emily doth sacred hold
For reasons dear and manifold-
Here hath she, here before her sight,
Close to the summit of this height.
The grassy rock-encircled pound
In which the creature first was found.
So beautiful the spotless thrall,
(A lovely youngling white as foam,)
That it was brought to Rylstone Hall;

Her youngest brother led it home,

The youngest, then a lusty boy,

Brought home the prize-and with what joy!

But most to Bolton's sacred pile, On favouring nights, she loved to go:

There ranged through cloister, court, and aisle,
Attended by the soft-paced Doe;

Nor did she fear in the still moonshine
To look upon Saint Mary's shrine:

Nor on the lonely turf that showed

Where Francis slept in his last abode.

For that she came; there oft and long

She sat in meditation strong:

And, when she from the abyss returned
Of thought, she neither shrunk nor mourned;
Was happy that she lived to greet

Her mute companion as it lay

220

In love and pity at her feet;

How happy in her turn to meet
That recognition! the mild glance
Beamed from that gracious countenance ;-
Communication, like the ray

Of a new morning, to the nature
And prospects of the inferior creature!

A mortal song we frame, by dower
Encouraged of celestial power;
Power which the viewless spirit shed

By whom we were first visited;

Whose voice we heard, whose hand and wings

Swept like a breeze the conscious strings,

When, left in solitude, erewhile

We stood before this ruined pile,

And, quitting unsubstantial dreams,

Sang in this presence kindred themes;

Distress and desolation spread

Through human hearts, and pleasure dead,-
Dead-but to live again on earth,
A second and yet nobler birth;
Dire overthrow, and yet how high
The re-ascent in sanctity!
From fair to fairer; day by day
A more divine and loftier way!
Even such this blessed pilgrim trod,
By sorrow lifted tow'rds her God;
Uplifted to the purest sky

Of undisturbed mortality.

Her own thoughts loved she; and could bend

A dear look to her lowly friend,

There stopped;-her thirst was satisfied

With what this innocent spring supplied

Her sanction inwardly she bore,

And stood apart from human cares:
But to the world returned no more,

Although with no unwilling mind
Help did she give at need, and joined
The Wharfdale peasants in their prayers.
At length, thus faintly, faintly tied
To earth, she was set free, and died.
Thy soul, exalted Emily,

Maid of the blasted family,

Rose to the God from whom it came!
-In Rylstone church her mortal frame
Was buried by her mother's side.

Most glorious sunset!-and a ray
Survives-the twilight of this day;
In that fair creature whom the fields
Support, and whom the forest shields;
Who, naving filled a holy place,
Partakes in her degree heaven's grace;
And bears a memory and a mind

Raised far above the law of kind;
Haunting the spots with lonely cheer
Which her dear mistress once held dear:
Loves most what Emily loved most-
The enclosure of this churchyard ground;
Here wanders like a gliding ghost,
And every Sabbath here is found;
Comes with the people when the bells
Are heard among the moorland dells,
Finds entrance through yon arch, where way
Lies open on the Sabbath-day;

Here walks amid the mournful waste
Of prostrate altars, shrines defaced,

And floors encumbered with rich show

Of fret-work imagery laid low;
Paces softly, or makes halt,

By fractured cell, or tomb, or vault,
By plate of monumental brass
Dim-gleaming among weeds and grass,
And sculptured forms of warriors brave;
But chiefly by that single grave,
That one sequestered hillock green,
The pensive visitant is seen.

There doth the gentle creature lie
With those adversities unmoved;
Calm spectacle, by earth and sky
In their benignity approved!
And aye, methinks, this hoary pile,
Subdued by outrage and decay,
Looks down upon her with a smile,
A gracious smile, that seems to say,
"Thou, thou art not a Child of Time,
But Daughter of the Eternal Prime!

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.

PREFACE.

IN the Preface to "The Excursion," I have alluded to a mediiated arrangement of my minor Poems, which should assist the attentive reader in perceiving their connection with each other, and also their subordination to that work. I shall here say a few words explanatory of this arrangement, as carried into effect in the present volumes.

The powers requisite for the production of poetry are, First, those of Observation and Description, i.e., the ability to observe with accuracy things as they are in themselves, and with fidelity to describe them, unmodified by any passion or feeling existing in the mind of the describer: whether the things depicted be actually present to the senses, or have a place only in the memory. This power, though indispensable to a Poet, is one which he employs only in submission to necessity, and never for a continuance of time: as its exercise supposes all the higher qualities of the mind to be passive, and in a state of subjection to external objects, much in the same way as the translator or engraver ought to be to his original. 2dly, Sensibility,—which, the more exquisite it is, the wider will be the range of a poet's perceptions; and the more will he be incited to observe objects, both as they exist in themselves and as re-acted upon by his own mind. (The distinction between poetic and human sensibility has been marked in the character of the poet delineated in the original preface, before-mentioned.) 3dly, Reflection,-which makes the Poet acquainted with the value of actions, images, thoughts, and feelings; and assist the sensibility in perceiving their connection with each other. 4thly, Imagination and Fancy, to modify, to create, and to associate. 5thly, Invention, -by which characters are composed out of materials supplied by observation; whether of the poet's own heart and mind, or of external life and nature; and such incidents and situations produced as are most impressive to the imagination, and most fitted to do justice to the characters, sentiments, and passions, which the Poet undertakes to illustrate. And, lastly, Judgment,-to decide how and where, and in what degree, each of these faculties ought to be exerted; so that the less shall not be sacrificed to the greater; nor the greater, slighting the less, arrogate, to its own injury, more than its due. By Judgment, also is determined what are the laws and appropriate graces of every species of composition.

The materials of Poetry, by these powers collected and produced, are cast, by means of various moulds, into divers forms. The moulds may be enumerated, and the forms specified, in the following order. 1st, The Narrative,-including the Epopoeia, the Historic Poem, the Tale, the Romance, the Mock-heroic, and, if the spirit of Homer will tolerate such neighbourhood, that dear production of our days, the Metrical Novel. Of this class, the distinguishing mark, is, that the narrator, however liberally his speaking agents be introduced, is himself the source from which every thing primarily flows. Epic Poets, in order that their mode of composition may accord with the elevation of their subject, represent themselves as singing from the inspiration of the Muse, Arma virumque cano; but this is a fiction, in modern times, of slight value: the "Iliad" or the "Paradise Lost" would gain little in our estimation by being chanted. The other poets who belong to this class are commonly content to tell their tale ;-so that of the whole it may be affirmed that they neither require nor reject the accompaniment of music.

2dly, The Dramatic,-consisting of Tragedy, Historic Drama, Comedy, and Masque; in which the Poet does not appear at all in his own person, and where the whole action is carried on by speech and dialogue of the agents; music being admitted only incidentally and rarely. The Opera may be placed here, inas much as it proceeds by dialogue; though depending to the de gree that it does upon music, it has a strong claim to be ranked with the Lyrical. The characteristic and impassioned Epistle, of which Ovid and Pope have given examples, considered as a species of mono-drama, may, without impropriety, be placed in this class.

3dly, The Lyrical,-containing the Hymn, the Ode, the Elegy, the Song, and the Ballad; in all which, for the production of their full effect, an accompaniment of music is indispensable.

4thly, The Idyllium,-descriptive chiefly either of the processes and appearances of external nature, as the "Seasons of Thomson; or of characters, manners, and sentiments, as are Shenstone's "Schoolmistress," "The Cottar's Saturday Night" of Burns, the "Twa Dogs" of the same author; or of these in conjunction with the appearances of nature, as most of the pieces of Theocritus, the "Allegro and Penseroso " of Milton, Beattie's "Minstrel," Goldsmith's "Deserted Village." The Epitaph, the Inscription, the Sonnet, most of the epistles of poets writing in their own persons, and all loco-descriptive poetry, belong to this class.

5thly, Didactic,-the principal object of which is direct instruction; as the Poem of Lucretius, the "Georgics" of Virgil, "The Fleece" of Dyer, Mason's "English Garden," &c.

And, lastly, philosophical Satire, like that of Horace and Juvenal; personal and occasional Satire rarely comprehending sufficient of the general in the individual to be dignified with the name of poetry.

Out of the three last classes has been constructed a composite species, of which Young's "Night Thoughts," and Cowper's Task," are excellent examples.

It is deducible from the above, that poems, apparently miscel