Or with that plant which in our dale III. Along the river's stony marge A thousand lambs are on the rocks, That plaintive cry! which up the hill Comes from the depths of Dungeon-Ghyll. IV. Said Walter, leaping from the ground, They leapt they ran-and when they came Seeing that he should lose the prize, "Stop!" to his comrade Walter cries- V. "Now cross where I shall cross-come on, And follow me where I shall lead " The other took him at his word, But did not like the deed. It was a spot, which you may see If ever you to Langdale go: Into a chasm a mighty block Hath fallen, and made a bridge of rock: The gulf is deep below; And in a basin black and small Receives a lofty waterfall. VI. With staff in hand across the cleft And now, all eyes and feet, hath gained When list! he hears a piteous moan-- A lamb, that in the pool is pent VII. The lamb had slipped into the stream, His dam had seen him when he fell, Sent forth a cry forlorn, The lamb, still swimming round and round, VIII. When he had learnt what thing it was, That sent this rueful cry; I ween, IX. 'He drew it gently from the pool, Into their arms the lamb they took, He's neither maimed nor scarred." Then up the steep ascent they hied, And placed him at his mother's side; And gently did the bard Those idle shepherd boys upbraid, And bade them better mind their trade. XIV. TO H. C., SIX YEARS OLD. O THOU! whose fancies from afar are brought; Who of thy words dost make a mock apparel, And fittest to unutterable thought The breeze-like motion and the self-born carol; Thou faery voyager! that dost float In such clear water, that thy boat May rather seem To brood on air than on an earthly stream Where earth and heaven do make one imagery; That art so exquisitely wild, I think of thee with many fears For what may be thy lot in future years. I thought of times when pain might be thy guest, Lord of thy house and hospitality; And grief, uneasy lover! never rest But when she sate within the touch of thee. Oh! too industrious folly! Oh! vain and causeless melancholy! Nature will either end thee quite; Or, lengthening out thy season of delight, Preserve for thee, by individual right, A young lamb's heart among the full-grown flocks. Or the injuries of to-morrow? Thou art a dew-drop, which the morn brings forth, Not framed to undergo unkindly shocks; Or to be trailed along the soiling earth; A gem that glitters while it lives, And no forewarning gives; But, at the touch of wrong, without a strife Slips in a moment out of life. XV. INFLUENCE OF NATURAL OBJECTS IN CALLING FORTH AND STRENGTHENING THE IMAGINATION IN BOYHOOD AND EARLY YOUTH. WISDOM and spirit of the universe! * This Extract is reprinted from "The Friend." Nor was this fellowship vouchsafed to me And in the frosty season, when the sun The cottage windows through the twilight blazed, It was indeed for all of us; for me It was a time of rapture !--Clear and loud That cares not for its home.-All shod with steel And woodland pleasures,-the resounding horn, Of melancholy, not unnoticed, while the stars, Not seldom from the uproar I retired Glanced sideway, leaving the tumultuous throng, That gleamed upon the ice: and oftentimes, When we had given our bodies to the wind, And all the shadowy banks on either side Came sweeping through the darkness, spinning still Have I, reclining back upon my heels, Wheeled by me-even as if the earth had rolled With visible motion her diurnal round! Behind me did they stretch in solemn train, Feebler and feebler, and I stood and watched Till all was tranquil as a summer sea. XVI. THE BLIND HIGHLAND BOY. A TALE TOLD BY THE FIRESIDE. Now we are tired of boisterous joy, There! take your seat, and let me see A Highland boy!-why call him so? He ne'er had seen one earthly sight; And yet he neither drooped nor pined, His mother, too, no doubt, above And proud she was of heart, when clad Went hand in hand with her. A dog, too, had he; not for need, Without a better guide. |