That seeks to stifle it ;- —as in those days
When this low Pile a Gospel Teacher knew,
Whose good works formed an endless retinue :
A Pastor such as Chaucer's verse pourtrays;
Such as the Heaven-taught skill of Herbert drew;
And tender Goldsmith crowned with deathless
praise !

1820.

VII.

THE PLAIN OF DONNERDALE.

THE old inventive Poets, had they seen,
Or rather felt, the entrancement that detains
Thy waters, Duddon ! 'mid these flowery
plains ;

The still repose, the liquid lapse serene,
Transferred to bowers imperishably green,
Had beautified Elysium! But these chains
Will soon be broken;-a rough course remains,
Rough as the past; where Thou, of placid
mien,

Innocuous as a firstling of the flock,

And countenanced like a soft cerulean sky, Shalt change thy temper; and, with many a shock

Given and received in mutual jeopardy,

Dance like a Bacchanal, from rock to rock,
Tossing her frantic thyrsus wide and high!

VIII.

RETURN, Content! for fondly I pursued,
Even when a child, the Streams-unheard,

unseen;

Through tangled woods, impending rocks between;

Or, free as air, with flying inquest viewed
The sullen reservoirs whence their bold brood,
Pure as the morning, fretful, boisterous, keen,
Green as the salt-sea billows, white and green,
Poured down the hills, a choral multitude!
Nor have I tracked their course for scanty
gains;

They taught me random cares and truant joys,
That shield from mischief and preserve from

stains

Vague minds, while men are growing out of boys;

Maturer Fancy owes to their rough noise Impetuous thoughts that brook not servile reins.

1820.

IX.

AFTER-THOUGHT.

I THOUGHT of Thee, my partner and my guide,
As being past away. Vain sympathies!
For, backward, Duddon! as I cast my eyes,

I see what was, and is, and will abide;
Still glides the Stream, and shall for ever
glide;

The Form remains, the Function never dies;
While we, the brave, the mighty, and the wise,
We Men, who in our morn of youth defied
The elements, must vanish ;—be it so!
Enough, if something from our hands have
power

To live, and act, and serve the future hour;
And if, as toward the silent tomb we go,
Through love, through hope, and faith's tran-
scendent dower,

We feel that we are greater than we know.

1820.

THE END.

BALLANTYNE PRESS : EDINBURGH AND LONDON.