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Wild though the dwelling seem, thus To which dark rocks a grateful coolness rising fair,

A sudden stranger 'mid the sylvan scene, One spot of radiance on surrounding green, Human it is-and human souls are there! Look through that opening in the canvas wall,

Through which by fits the scarce-felt breezes play,

-Upon three happy souls thine eyes will fall. The summer lambs are not more blest than they!

On the green turf all motionless they lie, In dreams romantic as the dreams of sleep, The filmy air slow-glimmering on their eye, And in their ear the murmur of the deep. Or haply now by some wild-winding brook, Deep, silent pool, or waters rushing loud, In thought they visit many a fairy-nook That rising mists in rainbow colours shroud, And ply the Angler's sport involved in mountain-cloud!

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Within that bower are strewn in careless guise,

Idle one day, the angler's simple gear;
Lines that, as fine as floating gossamer,
Dropt softly on the stream the silken flies;
The limber rod that shook its trembling
length,

Almost as airy as the line it threw,
Yet often bending in an arch of strength
When the tired salmon rose at last to view,
Now lightly leans across the rushy bed,
On which at night we dream of sports by day;
And empty now, beside it close is laid
The goodly pannier framed of osiers gray;
And maple bowl in which we wont to bring
The limpid water from the morning-wave,
Or from some mossy and sequester'd spring

gave,

Such as might Hermit use in solitary cave!

And ne'er did Hermit, with a purer breast, Amid the depths of sylvan silence pray, Than prayed we friends on that mild quiet day,

By God and man beloved, the day of rest!
All passions in our souls were lull'd to sleep,
Ev'n by the power of Nature's holy bliss;
While Innocence her watch in peace did keep
Over the spirit's thoughtful happiness!
We view'd the green earth with a loving
look,

Like us rejoicing in the gracious sky;
A voice came to us from the running brook
That seem'd to breathe a grateful melody.
Then all things seem'd embued with life and

sense,

And as from dreams with kindling smiles to wake,

Happy in beauty and in innocence;
While, pleased our inward quiet to partake,
Lay hush'd, as in a trance, the scarcely-
breathing lake.

Yet think not, in this wild and fairy spot, This mingled happiness of earth and heaven, Which to our hearts this Sabbath-day was given,

Think not, that far-off friends were quite forgot.

Helm-crag arose before our half-closed eyes With colours brighter than the brightening dove;

Beneath that guardian mount a cottage lies
Encircled by the halo breathed from Love!
And sweet that dwelling rests upon the brow
(Beneath its sycamore) of Orest-hill,
As if it smiled on Windermere below,
Her green recesses and her islands still!
Thus, gently-blended many a human thought
With those that peace and solitude supplied,
Till in our hearts the moving kindness
wrought

With gradual influence, like a flowing tide, And for the lovely sound of human voice we sigh'd.

And hark! a laugh, with voices blended,

stole

Across the water, echoing from the shore! And during pauses short the beating oar Brings the glad music closer to the soul. We leave our tent; and lo! a lovely sight Glides like a living creature through the air, For air the water seems thus passing bright, A living creature beautiful and fair! Nearer it glides; and now the radiant glow That on its radiant shadow seems to float, Turns to a virgin-band, a glorions shew, Rowing with happy smiles a little boat.

steer,

Towards the tent their lingering course they | And quick descended from their airy height.
Soon as the voice of simple song and prayer
And cheerful now upon the shore they stand, Ceased in the little chapel of the dell,
In maiden bashfulness, yet free from fear, The congregation did in peace repair
And by our side, gay-moving hand in hand, To the lake-side, to view our wondrous cell.
Into our tent they go, a beauteous sister-While leaving, for one noon, both young
and old,

band!

Scarce from our hearts had gone the sweet

surprise,
Which this glad troop of rural maids awoke;
Scarce had a more familiar kindness broke
From the mild lustre of their smiling eyes,
Ere the tent seem'd encircled by the sound
Of many voices; in an instant stood
Men, women, children, all the circle round,
And with a friendly joy the strangers view'd.
Strange was it to behold this gladsome crowd
Our late so solitary dwelling fill;
And strange to hear their greetings mingling
loud

Where all before was undisturb'd and still.
Yet was the stir delightful to our ear,
And moved to happiness our inmost blood,
The sudden change, the unexpected cheer,
Breaking like sunshine on a pensive mood,
This breath and voice of life in seeming
solitude!

Hard task it was, in our small tent to find Seats for our quickly-gather'd company; But in them all was such a mirthful glee, I ween they soon were seated to their mind! Some viewing with a hesitating look The panniers that contained our travelling fare,

On them at last their humble station took, Pleased at the thought, and with a smiling air.

Some on our low-framed beds then chose their seat, Each maid the youth that loved her best beside,

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Their cluster'd hamlets in this deep recess, All join the throng, in conscious good-will bold,

Elate and smiling in their Sabbath-dress, A mingled various groupe of homely happiness!

And thus our tent a joyous scene became, Where loving hearts from distant vales did meet

As at some rural festival, and greet
Each other with glad voice and kindly name.
Here a pleased daughter to her father smiled,
With fresh affection in her soften'd eyes;
He in return look'd back upon his child
With gentle start and tone of mild surprise:
And on his little grand-child, at her breast,
An old man's blessing and a kiss bestow'd,
Or to his cheek the lisping baby prest,
Light'ning the mother of her darling load;
While comely matrons, all sedately ranged
Close to their husbands' or their children's

side,

A neighbour's friendly greeting interchanged, And each her own with frequent glances eyed,

And raised her head in all a mother's harmless pride.

Happy were we among such happy hearts! And to inspire with kindliness and love Our simple guests, ambitiously we strove, With novel converse and endearing arts! We talk'd to them, and much they loved to hear,

Of those sweet vales from which we late had come;

While many a gentle look, and whisper sweet,
Brought to the stripling's face a gladsome For though these vales are to each other

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And much they gazed with never-tired Though scholars all, and rich in lands and

delight On varnish'd rod, with joints that shone like gold,

And silken line on glittering reel enroll'd, To infant-anglers a most wondrous sight! Scarce could their chiding parents then controul

Their little hearts in harmless malice gay, But still one, bolder than his fellows, stole To touch the tempting treasures where they lay.

What rapture glistened in their eager eyes, When, with kind voice, we bade these children take

A precious store of well-dissembled flies,
To use with caution for the strangers' sake!
The unlook'd-for gift we graciously bestow
With sudden joy the leaping heart o'er-

powers;

They grasp the lines, while all their faces

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Lost as we were in that most blessed mood Which Nature's sons alone can deeply prove, We lavish'd with free heart our kindest love On all who breath'd,-one common brotherhood.

Three faithful servants, men of low degree, Were with us,as we roamed the wilds among, And well it pleased their simple hearts to sec Their masters mingling with the rural throng. Oft to our guests they sought to speak aside, And, in the genial flow of gladness, told That we were free from haughtiness or pride,

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Encircled as we were with smiles and joy,
In quietness to Quiet's dwelling brought,
To think of him whose bliss is to destroy,
At such a season was an awful thought!
We felt the eternal power of happiness
And virtue's power; we felt with holy awe
That in this world, in spite of chance-distress,
Such is the Almighty Spirit's ruling law.
And joyfully did we these shepherds tell
To hear all rumours with a tranquil mind,
For, in the end, that all would yet be well,
Nor this bad Monarch leave one trace behind,
More than o'er yonder hills the idly-raving
wind.

Then gravely smiled, in all the power of

age,

A hoary-headed, venerable man,
Like the mild chieftain of a peaceful clan,
'Mid simple spirits looked on as a sage.
Much did he praise the holy faith we held,
Which God, he said, to cheer the soul had
given,

For even the very angels that rebelled,
By sin performed the blessed work of Heaven.
The Wicked King, of whom we justly spake,
Was but an instrument in God's wise hand,
And though the kingdoms of the earth might
quake,

Peace would revisit every ravaged land.
Even as the earthquake, in some former time,
Scatter'd yon rugged mountain far and wide,
Till years of winter's snow and summer's
prime,

To naked cliffs fresh verdure have supplied — Now troops of playful lambs are bounding on its side.

Pleased were the simple groupe to hear the sire

Thus able to converse with men from far, And much did they of vaguely-rumour'd war, That long had raged in distant lands, inquire. Scarce could their hearts, at peace with all mankind,

Believe what bloody deeds on earth are done, | Her eyes let fall, as wishing from the rest
That man of woman born should be so blind To hide the sudden throb that beat within
As walk in guilt beneath the blessed sun;
her breast.
And one, with thoughtful countenance, ex-

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But soon such thoughts to lighter speech give way;

We in our turn a willing ear did lend
To tale of sports, that made them blythely
spend

The winter-evening and the summer-day.
Smiling they told us of the harmless glee
That bids the echoes of the mountains wake,
When at the stated festival they see
Their new-wash'd flocks come snow-white
from the lake;
And joyful dance at neighbouring village-fair,
Where lads and lasses, in their best attire,
Go to enjoy that playful pastime rare,
And careful statesmen shepherds new to hire!
Or they would tell, how, at some neigh-
bour's cot,

When nights are long, and winter on the earth,

All cares are in the dance and song forgot, And round the fire quick flies the circling mirth,

When nuptial vows are pledged, or at an infant's birth!

Well did the roses blooming on their cheek,

And eyes of laughing light, that glisten'd fair Beneath the artless ringlets of their hair, Each maiden's health and purity bespeak. Following the impulse of their simple will, No thought had they to give or take offence; Glad were their bosoms, yet sedate and still, And fearless in the strength of innocence. Oft as, in accents mild, we strangers spoke To these sweet maidens, an unconscious smile Like sudden sunshine o'er their faces broke, And with it struggling blushes mix'd the while.

And oft as mirth and glee went laughing round,

Breath'd in this maiden's ear some harm

less jest Would make her, for one moment, on the ground

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Sweet Maids! my wandering heart returns to you;

And well the blush of joy, the courteous air,
Words unrestrained, and open looks declare
That fancy's day-dreams have not been un-
true.

It was indeed a beauteous thing, to see
The virgin, while her bashful visage smiled,
As if she were a mother on her knee
Take up, with many a kiss, the asking child.
And well, I ween, she play'd the mother's
part;

For as she bended o'er the infant fair,
A mystic joy seem'd stirring at her heart,
A yearning fondness, and a silent prayer.
Nor did such gentle maiden long refuse
To cheer our spirits with some favourite
strain,

Some simple ballad, framed by rustic muse,
Of one who died for love, or, led by gain,
Sail'd in a mighty ship to lands beyond the
main.

And must we close this scene of merriment? Lo! in the lake soft burns the star of eve, And the night-hawk hath warn'd our guests to leave,

Ere darker shades descend, our happy tent. The Moon's bright edge is seen above the hill;

She comes to light them on their homeward
way;
And every heart, I ween, now lies as still
As on yon fleecy cloud her new-born ray.

Kindly by young and old our hands are Our tent with laughter; from the hills they

press'd,

And kindly we the gentle touch return;
Each face declares that deep in every breast
Peace, virtue, friendship, and affection burn.
At last beneath the silent air we part,
And promise make that shall not be in vain,
A promise asked and given warm from the
heart,

That we will visit all, on hill and plain,
If e'er it be our lot to see this land again!

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Of the retiring oar escapes the mind;
Like mariners some ship hath left behind,
We feel, thus standing speechless and alone.
One moment lives that melancholy trance—
The mountains ring; oh! what a joy is
there!

As hurries o'er their heights,in circling dance,
Cave-loving Echo, Daughter of the Air.
Is it some spirit of night that wakes the
shout,

As o'er the cliffs, with headlong speed, she ranges?

Is it, on plain and steep, some fairy-rout Answering each other in tumultuous changes? There seems amid the hills a playful war; Trumpet and clarion join the mystic noise; Now growing on the ear, now dying far! Great Gabel from his summit sends a voice, And the remotest depths of Ennerdale rejoice!

Oh! well I know what means this din of mirth!

come

With friendly sound unto our listening ear, A jocund farewell to our glimmering home Loth are our guests, though they have linger'd long,

That our sweet tent at last should leave their sight;

So with one voice they sing a parting-song, Ere they descend behind the clouds of night. Nor are we mute; an answering shout we wake,

At each short pause of the long, lengthening sound,

Till all is silent as the silent Lake,
And every noise above, below, around,
Seems in the brooding night-sky's depth of
slumber drown'd!

Soon from that calm our spirits start again With blyther vigour; nought around we see Save lively images of mirth and glee, And playful fancies hurry through our brain. Shine not, sweet Moon! with such a haughty light;

Ye stars! behind your veil of clouds retire; For we shall kindle on the earth, this night, To drown your feeble rays, a joyous fire. Bring the leaves withering in the holly-shade, The oaken branches sapless now and hoar, The fern no longer green, and whins that

fade

'Mid the thin sand that strews the rocky shore.

Heap them above that new-awaken'd spark ;
Soon shall a pyramid of flame arise;
Now the first rustling of the vapour, hark!
The kindling spirit from its prison flies,
And in an instant mounts in glory to the
skies!

Far gleams the Lake, as in the light of day, Or when, from mountain-top, the setting sun, Ere yet his earth-delighting course is run, Sheds on the slumbering wave a purple ray. A bright'ning verdure runs o'er every field, As if by potent necromancer shed, And a dark wood is suddenly reveal'd, A glory resting on its ancient head. And oh! what radiant beauty doth invest Our tent that seems to feel a conscious pride, Whiter by far than any cygnet's breast, Or cygnet's shadow floating with the tide. A warmer flush unto the moonlight cold, Winning its lovely way, is softly given, A silvery radiance tinged with vivid gold; While thousand mimic stars are gayly driven Through the bright glistening air, scarce

No spirits are they, who, trooping through
the sky,
In chorus swell that mountain-melody;
-It comes from mortal children of the earth! Or,
These are the voices that so late did chear

known from those in Heaven.

Amid the flame our lurid figures stand, through the shrouding vapour dimly vicw'd,

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