XI. KEEN fitful gusts are whispering here and there Or of the dead leaves rustling drearily, That in a little cottage I have found; XII. To one who has been long in city pent, 'Tis very sweet to look into the fair And open face of heaven,- to breathe a prayer Full in the smile of the blue firmament. Who is more happy, when, with heart's content, Fatigued he sinks into some pleasant lair Of wavy grass, and reads a debonair And gentle tale of love and languishment? Returning home at evening, with an ear Catching the notes of Philomel,—an eye Watching the sailing cloudlet's bright career, He mourns that day so soon has glided by: E'en like the passage of an angel's tear That falls through the clear ether silently. R XIII. ADDRESSED TO HAYDON. HIGH-MINDEDNESS, a jealousy for good, A loving-kindness for the great man's fame, Dwells here and there with people of no name, In noisome alley, and in pathless wood: And where we think the truth least understood. Oft may be found a "singleness of aim," That ought to frighten into hooded shame A money-mongering, pitiable brood. How glorious this affection for the cause Of steadfast genius, toiling gallantly! What when a stout unbending champion awes Envy, and malice to their native sty? Unnumber'd souls breathe out a still applause, Proud to behold him in his country's eye. XIV. ADDRESSED TO THE SAME. GREAT spirits now on earth are sojourning: The social smile, the chain for Freedom's sake: Upon the forehead of the age to come; Listen awhile, ye nations, and be dumb. XV. ON THE GRASSHOPPER AND CRICKET. THE poetry of earth is never dead: When all the birds are faint with the hot sun, On a lone winter evening, when the frost December 30, 1816. XVI. TO KOSCIUSKO. GOOD Kosciusko! thy great name alone Of the wide spheres-an everlasting tone. The names of heroes, burst from clouds concealing, Are changed to harmonies, for ever stealing Through cloudless blue, and round each silver throne. It tells me too, that on a happy day, When some good spirit walks upon the earth, XVII. HAPPY is England! I could be content And half forget what world or worldling meant. Beauties of deeper glance, and hear their singing, XVIII. THE HUMAN SEASONS. FOUR Seasons fill the measure of the year; He has his Summer, when luxuriously Spring's honey'd cud of youthful thought he loves To ruminate, and by such dreaming high Is nearest unto heaven: quiet coves His soul has in its Autumn, when his wings Pass by unheeded as a threshold brook. XIX. ON A PICTURE OF LEANDER. COME hither, all sweet maidens soberly, Untouch'd, a victim of your beauty bright, XX. TC AILSA ROCK. HEARKEN, thou craggy ocean pyramid ! Give answer from thy voice, the sea-fowl's screams! Thee heave to airy sleep from fathom dreams? Or when grey clouds are thy cold cover-lid? The last in air, the former in the deep; First with the whales, last with the eagle-skiesDrown'd wast thou till an earthquake made thee steep, Another cannot wake thy giant size. |