A sweeter home than earth's most cherish'd spotSome orb of beauty words cannot relate, Circling the spirit free as yet from blot Of sin, ere its probationary state

Began-But here in vain we strive to speculate.

XII.

Oft when the thunderstorm has ceased, I've gazed
From this green hill on such a sight divine

As Wordsworth's Solitary sad amazed ;

That cannot be described in verse like mine,
But lives embodied in the glowing line

Of Rydal's mighty Bard: earth, air, and sky

With mountain-structures cloud-built domes outshine

All palaces by Fancy raised-the eye

In pageantries of Nature may faint types of Heaven descry.

XIII.

Outbursts of sunlight after summer shower
With luminous distinctness gild the leaves,
Circulate smiles o'er petals of each flower

That bending for the loss of splendour grieves.
Thus man from Heaven consoling light receives
With waters of affliction when opprest;

Hope of its weight the drooping soul relieves, And virtues brighten forth, that in the breast Beneath Prosperity's broad glare would undiscerned

rest.

XIV.

We drink in, as it were, the flow of life

Around us, that insoul'd becomes a part Even of our being: thought is ne'er at strife

With thought, when love of Nature's at the heart,
That bids all good to enter-ill, depart.

They who from mountain-heights look o'er the vale,
Smile, from its touch secure, at Envy's dart :
They on the placid lake who love to sail,
Care not what contests fierce in cities proud prevail.

XV.

Those who hereafter view the golden corn
Waving below, (the reapers and their lord
Gone, and replaced by others lately born,)
May have their minds with imagery stored
Richer than that my humble lays afford :
May they while garnering up boon Nature's wealth
Add these my little gleanings to their hoard,
And kindly think of him who here by stealth
From dull pursuits some moments snatched to breathe
the gales of health !

August, 1833.

NOTES TO "ADLESTROP HILL."

P. 218, 1. 6.

Oft when the thunderstorm has ceased I've gazed, &c.

I allude here to the description of the magnificent spectacle seen among the mountains, in the second Book of Wordsworth's Excursion, by the Solitary. I cannot resist the temptation to transcribe part of it. "The appearance instantaneously disclosed

Clouds, mists, streams, watery rocks and emerald turf,

Clouds of all tincture, rocks and sapphire sky,

Confused, commingled, mutually inflamed,

Molten together, and composing thus,
Each lost in each, that marvellous array
Of temple, palace, citadel, and huge
Fantastic pomp of structure without name,
In fleecy folds voluminous enwrapp'd."

WARWICKSHIRE.

Nec tam Larissæ percussit campus opimæ,
Quàm domus Albuneæ resonantis,
Et præceps Anio, et Tiburni lucus, et uda

Mobilibus pomaria rivis.

HORATII, liber i. Od. 7.

I.

HERE is the aspect of the country grand ;

Green are the meads through which clear rivers flow; Here o'er the road, as guardians of the land, Vast oaks their venerable branches throw; And in the sunlight woods continuous glow, Where Perdita might choose her choicest store Of flowers with artless comment to bestow On high-born swains; and where, with Hellenore Laurel-crown'd, sylvan boys from openings might out

pour.

II.

Here Flora's spots of loveliness surpass

Armida's gardens or Alcina's isle :

Gay flower-beds, fountains bosom'd in soft grass,
And bowers, o'er which with parasitic wile

Wind flower-inwoven creepers, here beguile The slave to Mammon of his golden cares,

As plays o'er Avon's stream eve's roseate smile. And Nature here her richest livery wears, Flourishing as her poet's fame, whose throne no rival

shares.

III.

Beautiful are the fields that brighten round
Stratford, where fairies dance beneath the moon;

And Ariels, as he sleeps on sacred ground,
Such poetry is in the air, at noon

Visit the day-dreams even of rustic loon.

Juliet before the eye of fancy glows

With love, far lovelier than in grand saloon

The richest gems of beauty: Shakspeare throws
There round the mind a charm it never elsewhere knows.

IV.

Mightiest of mighty bards! may I unblamed
Approach thee with the homage of my praise?
Hamlet, Macbeth, scarce by historians named,
Familiar to our minds from earliest days,
Haunt us all, "like a passion" in thy plays.

'Twas thine all characters of life to hit

Or in the soul sublime emotions raise,

Or melt with tenderness, delight with wit;
Then people fancied worlds with beings for them fit.