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 Plant
Is in its beauty ministrant

To comfort and to peace.

VI.

He would have loved thy modest grace,
Meek Flower! To Him I would have said,
"It grows upon its native bed

Beside our Parting-place;

There, cleaving to the ground, it lies
With multitude of purple eyes,
Spangling a cushion green like moss;
But we will see it, joyful tide!
Some day, to see it in its pride,
The mountain will we cross."

VII.

-Brother and friend, if verse of mine
Have power to make thy virtues known,
Here let a monumental Stone

Stand-sacred as a Shrine;

And to the few who pass this way,
Traveller or Shepherd, let it say,
Long as these mighty rocks endure,-
Oh do not Thou too fondly brood,
Although deserving of all good,

On any earthly hope, however pure*!

1805.

p. 356.

The plant alluded to is the Moss Campion (Silene acaulis, of Linnæus).

See note at the end of the volume.

See among the Poems on the "Naming of Places," No. vi., vol. i.

IX.

SONNET.

WHY should we weep or mourn, Angelic boy,
For such thou wert ere from our sight removed,
Holy, and ever dutiful-beloved

From day to day with never-ceasing joy,
And hopes as dear as could the heart employ
In aught to earth pertaining? Death has proved
His might, nor less his mercy, as behoved—
Death conscious that he only could destroy
The bodily frame. That beauty is laid low
To moulder in a far-off field of Rome;

But Heaven is now, blest Child, thy Spirit's home:
When such divine communion, which we know,
Is felt, thy Roman-burial place will be
Surely a sweet remembrancer of Thee.

1846.

X.

LINES

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! the Voice is up

With which she speaks when storms are gone,

A mighty unison of streams!

Of all her Voices, One!

Loud is the Vale ;-this inland Depth
In peace is roaring like the Sea;

Yon star upon the mountain-top
Is listening quietly.

Sad was I, even to pain deprest,
Importunate and heavy load *!

The Comforter hath found me here,
Upon this lonely road;

And many

thousands now are sadWait the fulfilment of their fear; For he must die who is their stay, Their glory disappear.

A Power is passing from the earth
To breathless Nature's dark abyss;
But when the great and good depart
What is it more than this-

That Man, who is from God sent forth,
Doth yet again to God return ?—
Such ebb and flow must ever be,
Then wherefore should we mourn?

* Importuna e grave salma.

1806.

MICHAEL ANGELO.

XI

INVOCATION TO THE EARTH.

FEBRUARY, 1816.

[COMPOSED immediately after the "Thanksgiving Ode," to which it may be considered as a second part.]

I.

"REST, rest, perturbed Earth!

O rest, thou doleful Mother of Mankind!" A Spirit sang in tones more plaintive than the wind: "From regions where no evil thing has birth

I come-thy stains to wash away,

Thy cherished fetters to unbind,

And open thy sad eyes upon a milder day.

The Heavens are thronged with martyrs that have risen From out thy noisome prison;

The penal caverns groan

With tens of thousands rent from off the tree
Of hopeful life,-by battle's whirlwind blown
Into the deserts of Eternity.

Unpitied havoc! Victims unlamented!

But not on high, where madness is resented,
And murder causes some sad tears to flow,
Though, from the widely-sweeping blow,

The choirs of Angels spread, triumphantly augmented.

II.

"False Parent of Mankind!

Obdurate, proud, and blind,

I sprinkle thee with soft celestial dews,
Thy lost, maternal heart to re-infuse!

Scattering this far-fetched moisture from my wings,
Upon the act a blessing I implore,

Of which the rivers in their secret springs,
The rivers stained so oft with human gore,
Are conscious;-may the like return no more!
May Discord-for a Seraph's care

Shall be attended with a bolder prayer—
May she, who once disturbed the seats of bliss
These mortal spheres above,

Be chained for ever to the black abyss!
And thou, O rescued Earth, by peace and love,
And merciful desires, thy sanctity approve!"
The Spirit ended his mysterious rite,

And the pure vision closed in darkness infinite.

XII.

LINES

WRITTEN ON A BLANK LEAF IN A COPY OF THE AUTHOR'S POEM

"THE EXCURSION," UPON HEARING OF THE DEATH OF THE

LATE VICAR OF KENDAL.

To public notice, with reluctance strong,
Did I deliver this unfinished Song;

Yet for one happy issue;—and I look
With self-congratulation on the Book

Which pious, learned, MURFITT saw and read ;

Upon my thoughts his saintly Spirit fed;

He conned the new-born Lay with grateful heart— Foreboding not how soon he must depart;

Unweeting that to him the joy was given

Which good men take with them from earth to heaven.