Submissive to the might of verse By none more deeply felt than thee!" I sang; and lo! from pastimes virginal She hastens to the tents Of nature, and the lonely elements. Air sparkles round her with a dazzling sheen; But mark her glowing cheek, her vesture green! And, as if wishful to disarm Or to repay the potent Charm, She bears the stringèd lute of old romance, So tripped the Muse, inventress of the dance; But the ringlets of that head, Choicest flowers that ever breathed, But her humility is well content With one wild floweret, (call it not forlorn,) FLOWER OF THE WINDS, beneath her bosom worn, Yet more for love than ornament. Open, ye thickets! let her fly, Swift as a Thracian Nymph, o'er field and height! Turning them inside out with arch audacity. In ten thousand dewy rays; A face o'er which a thousand shadows go! She stops, is fastened to that rivulet's side; And there (while, with sedater mien, O'er timid waters that have scarcely left Amid their smiles and dimples dignified,- What more changeful than the sea? But over his great tides Fidelity presides; And this light-hearted Maiden constant is as he. High is her aim as heaven above, And wide as ether her good-will; And, like the lowly reed, her love Can drink its nurture from the scantiest rill: Insight as keen as frosty star Is to her charity no bar, Nor interrupts her frolic graces When she is, far from these wild places Encircled by familiar faces. O the charm that manners draw, If from what her hand would do, Her voice would utter, aught ensue Untoward or unfit ; She, in benign affections pure, In self-forgetfulness secure, Sheds round the transient harm or vague mischance A light unknown to tutored elegance : Hers is not a cheek shame-stricken, But her blushes are joy-flushes; And the fault (if fault it be) Leaving this Daughter of the mountains free Had crossed her purpose with some quaint vagary, And heard his viewless bands Over their mirthful triumph clapping hands. "Last of the Three, though eldest born, Reveal thyself, like pensive Morn Touched by the skylark's earliest note, But whether in the semblance drest Of Dawn, or Eve, fair vision of the west, Each grief, through meekness, settling into rest. page Of a closed volume lingering in thy hand see it there, Her brow hath opened on me, Nor dread the depth of meditative eye; What wouldst thou more? In sunny glade, Since earth grew calm while angels mused? On the flower's breast; as if she felt soon to melt That flowers themselves, whate'er their hue, Which the careless shepherd sleeps on, As fitly spring from turf the mourner weeps on, And without wrong are cropped the marble tomb to strew. The Charm is over; the mute Phantoms gone, From these wild rocks thy footsteps I will guide XLI. 1828. THE WISHING-GATE. In the vale of Grasmere, by the side of the old highway leading to Ambleside, is a gate, which, time out of mind, has been called the Wishing-gate, from a belief that wishes formed or indulged there have a favorable issue. HOPE rules a land for ever green : All powers that serve the bright-eyed Queen Are confident and gay; |