"And, gallant stag! to make thy praises known, "And in the summer-time, when days are long, "Till the foundations of the mountains fail, And them who dwell among the woods of Ure!” Then home he went, and left the hart, stone dead, Ere thrice the moon into her port had steered, And near the fountain, flowers of stature tall, A leafy shelter from the sun and wind. And thither, when the summer days were long, The knight, Sir Walter, died in course of time, PART SECOND. THE moving accident is not my trade: To pipe a simple song for thinking hearts. As I from Hawes to Richmond did repair, And, pulling now the rein, my horse to stop, The last stone pillar on a dark hill-top. The trees were gray, with neither arms nor head; Half-wasted the square mound of tawny green; So that you just might say, as then I said, Here in old time the hand of man hath been." I looked upon the hill both far and near, More doleful place did never eye survey; I stood in various thoughts and fancies lost, And what this place might be I then inquired. The shepherd stopped, and that same story told Which in my former rhyme I have rehearsed. "A jolly place," said he, "in times of old! But something ails it now; the spot is curst. You see these lifeless stumps of aspen woodSome say that they are beeches, others elms— These were the bower; and here a mansion stood, The finest palace of a hundred realms ! "The arbour does its own condition tell; You see the stones, the fountain, and the stream; But as to the great lodge! you might as well Hunt half a day for a forgotten dream. "There's neither dog nor heifer, horse nor sheep, Will wet his lips within that cup of stone; And oftentimes, when all are fast asleep, This water doth send forth a dolorous groan. "Some say that here a murder has been done, And blood cries out for blood; but, for my part, I've guessed, when I've been sittting in the sun, That it was all for that unhappy hart. 44 What thoughts must through the creature's brain have passed! Even from the topmost stone, upon the steep, Are but three bounds; and look, sir, at this lastO master! it has been a cruel leap. "For thirteen hours he ran a desperate race; What cause the hart might have to love this place, "Here on the grass perhaps asleep he sank, “In April here beneath the scented thorn He heard the birds their morning carols sing; And he, perhaps, for aught we know, was born Not half a furlong from that self-same spring. "Now, here is neither grass nor pleasant shade; The sun on drearier hollow never shone ; So will it be, as I have often said, Till trees and stones and fountain, all are gone." "Gray-headed shepherd, thou hast spoken well; Small difference lies between thy creed and mine : This beast not unobserved by Nature fell; His death was mourned by sympathy divine. 'The Being that is in the clouds and air, For the unoffending creatures whom he loves. The pleasure-house is dust-behind, before, This is no common waste, no common gloom; But Nature, in due course of time, once more Shall here put on her beauty and her bloom. "She leaves these objects to a slow decay, That what we are, and have been, may be known; But, at the coming of the milder day, These monuments shall all be overgrown. "One lesson, shepherd, let us two divide, Taught both by what she shows and what conceals Never to blend our pleasure or our pride With sorrow of the meanest thing that feels." 1800. III. POWER OF MUSIC. AN Orpheus! an Orpheus! yes, faith may grow bold, Near the stately Pantheon you'll meet with the same His station is there; and he works on the crowd, What an eager assembly! what an empire is this! As the moon brightens round her the clouds of the night, That errand-bound prentice was passing in hasteWhat matter? he's caught--and his time runs to waste. The newsman is stopped, though he stops on the fret ; And the half-breathless lamplighter-he's in the net! The porter sits down on the weight which he bore; He stands, backed by the wall; he abates not his din; His hat gives him vigour, with boons dropping in From the old and the young, from the poorest; and there! The one-pennied boy has his penny to spare. O blest are the hearers, and proud be the hand Of the pleasure it spreads through so thankful a band; I am glad for him, blind as he is!-all the while If they speak 'tis to praise, and they praise with a smile. That tall man, a giant in bulk and in height, Mark that cripple who leans on his crutch; like a tower Now, coaches and chariots! roar on like a stream; Here are twenty souls happy as souls in a dream : They are deaf to your murmurs-they care not for you, Nor what ye are flying, nor what ye pursue! IV. RESOLUTION AND INDEPENDENCE. THERE was a roaring in the wind all night; 1806. The birds are singing in the distant woods; Over his own sweet voice the stock-dove broods; The jay makes answer as the magpie chatters; And all the air is filled with pleasant noise of waters. All things that love the sun are out of doors; The grass is bright with rain-drops;-on the moors And with her feet she from the plashy earth Runs with her all the way, wherever she doth run. I was a traveller then upon the moor, I saw the hare that raced about with joy; |