As on a bed of death? Some lodge in peace, Saved by His care who bade the tempest cease; And some, too heedless of past danger, court Fresh gales to waft them to the far-off port; But near, or hanging sea and sky between, Not one of all those winged powers is seen, Seen in her course, nor 'mid this quiet heard; Yet oh! how gladly would the air be stirred By some acknowledgment of thanks and praise, Soft in its temper as those vesper lays Sung to the Virgin while accordant oars Urge the slow bark along Calabrian shores; A sea-born service through the mountains felt Till into one loved vision all things melt: Or like those hymns that soothe with graver
The gulfy coast of Norway iron-bound; And, from the wide and open Baltic, rise With punctual care, Lutherian harmonies. Hush, not a voice is here! but why repine, Now when the star of eve comes forth to shine On British waters with that look benign? Ye mariners, that plough your onward way, Or in the haven rest, or sheltering bay, May silent thanks at least to God be given With a full heart; "our thoughts are heard in heaven!"
NOT in the lucid intervals of life
That come but as a curse to party strife; Not in some hour when Pleasure with a sigh Of languor puts his rosy garland by; Not in the breathing-times of that poor slav Who daily piles up wealth in Mammon's cave-- Is Nature felt, or can be; nor do words, Which practised talent readily affords, Prove that her hand has touched responsive chords;
Nor has her gentle beauty power to move With genuine rapture and with fervent love The soul of Genius, if he dare to take Life's rule from passion craved for passion's sake;
Untaught that meekness is the cherished bent Of all the truly great and all the innocent.
But who is innocent? By grace divine, Not otherwise, O Nature! we are thine, Through good and evil thine, in just degree Of rational and manly sympathy.
To all that Earth from pensive hearts is stealing, And Heaven is now to gladdened eyes revealing, Add every charm the Universe can show Through every change its aspects undergo- Care may be respited, but not repealed; No perfect cure grows on that bounded field. Vain is the pleasure, a false calm the peace, If He, through whom alone our conflicts cease, Our virtuous hopes without relapse advance, Come not to speed the Soul's deliverance; To the distempered Intellect refuse His gracious help, or give what we abuse.
(BY THE SIDE OF RYDAL MERE.) THE linnet's warble, sinking towards a close, Hints to the thrush 'tis time for their repose; The shrill-voiced thrush is heedless, and again
The monitor revives his own sweet strain: But both will soon be mastered, and the copse Be left as silent as the mountain-tops, Ere some commanding star dismiss to rest The throng of rooks, that now, from twig or nest,
(After a steady flight on nome-bound wings. And a last game of mazy hoverings Around their ancient grove) with cawing noise Disturb the liquid music's equipoise.
O Nightingale! Who ever heard thy song Might here be moved, till Fancy grows so
That listening sense is pardonably cheated Where wood or stream by thee was never greeted.
Surely, from fairest spots of favoured lands, Were not some gifts withheld by jealous hands, This hour of deepening darkness here would be As a fresh morning for new harmony; And lays as prompt would hail the dawn of Night:
A dawn she has both beautiful and bright, When the East kindles with the full moon's light;
Not like the rising sun's impatient glow Dazzling the mountains, but an overflow Of solemn splendour, in mutation slow.
Wanderer by spring with gradual progress led,
For sway profoundly felt as widely spread; To king, to peasant, to rough sailor, dear, And to the soldier's trumpet-wearied ear; How welcome wouldst thou be to this green Vale
Fairer than Tempe! Yet, sweet Nightingale ! From the warm breeze that bears thee on,
Save when the Owlet's unexpected scream Pierces the ethereal vault; and (mid the gleam Of unsubstantial imagery, the dream, From the hushed vale's realities, transferred To the still lake) the imaginative Bird Seems, 'mid inverted mountains, not unheard. Grave Creature!-whether, while the moon shines bright
On thy wings opened wide for smoothest flight, Thou art discovered in a roofless tower, Rising from what may once have been a lady's bower;
Or spied where thou sitt'st moping in thy mew At the dim centre of a churchyard yew; Or, from a rifted crag or ivy tod
Deep in a forest, thy secure abode,
Thou giv'st, for pastime's sake, by shriek or shout,
A puzzling notice of thy whereabout
May the night never come, nor day be seen, When I shall scorn thy voice, or mock thy
HAD this effulgence disappeared With flying haste, I might have sent, Among the speechless clouds, a look Of blank astonishment; But 'tis endued with power to stay, And sanctify one closing day, That frail Mortality may see-- What is ?-ah no, but what can be! Time was when field and watery cove With modulated echoes rang,
While choirs of fervent Angels sang Their vespers in the grove; Or, crowning, star-like, each some sovereign height,
Warbled, for heaven above and earth below, Strains suitable to both.-Such holy rite, Methinks, if audibly repeated now From hill or valley, could not move Sublimer transport, purer love, Than doth this silent spectacle-the gleam- The shadow-and the peace supreme!
No sound is uttered,-but a deep And solemn harmony pervades The hollow vale from steep to steep, And
Far-distant images draw nigh, penetrates the glades. Called forth by wondrous potency Of beamy radiance, that imbues Whate'er it strikes with gem-like hues ! In vision exquisitely clear, Herds range along the mountain side; And glistening antlers are descried ; And gilded flocks appear.
Thine is the tranquil hour, purpureal Eve! But long as god-like wish, or hope divine, Informs my spirit, ne'er can I believe That this magnificence is wholly thine!
From worlds not quickened by the sun A portion of the gift is won; An intermingling of Heaven's pomp is spread On ground which British shepherds tread!
And, if there be whom broken ties Afflict, or injuries assail, Yon hazy ridges to their Present a glorious scale,
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