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She lifts her head for endless spring,
groom, We have them at the feast of Brough’m. How glad Pendragon, though the sleep Of years be on her!-She shall reap A taste of this great pleasure, viewing As in a dream her own renewing. Rejoiced is Brough, right glad, I deem, Beside her little humble stream; And she that keepeth watch and ward, Her statelier Eden's course to guard ; They both are happy at this hour Though each is but a lonely tower : But here is perfect joy and pride For one fair house by Emont's side,
This day distinguished without peer To see her master, and to cheer Him and his lady-mother dear ! 0, it was a time forlorn When the fatherless was bornGive her wings that she may fly, Or she sees her infant die! Swords that are with slaughter wild Hunt the mother and the child. Who will take them from the light? Yonder is a man in sightYonder is a house-but whose ? No, they must not enter those. To the caves and to the brooks, To the clouds of heaven she looks; She is speechless, but her eyes Pray in ghostly agonies. Blissful Mary, mother mild, Maid and mother undefiled, Save a mother and her child ! Now who is he that bounds with joy On Carrock's side, a shepherd boy ? No thoughts hath he but thoughts that pass Light as the wind upon the grass. Can this be he who hither came In secret, like a smothered flame ? O'er whom such thankful tears were shed For shelter and a poor man's bread! God loves the child; and God hath willed That those dear words should be fulfilledThe lady's words, when forced away, The last she to her babe did say: 'My own, my own, thy fellow-guest I may not be; but rest thee, rest, For lowly shepherd's life is best ! Alas! when evil men are strong, No life is good, no pleasure long, The boy must part from Mosedale's groves, And leave Blencathara's rugged coves, And quit the flowers, that summer brings To Glenderamakin's lofty springs; Must yanish, and his careless cheer Be turned to heaviness and fear. -Give Sir Lancelot Threlkeld praise ! Hear it, good man, old in days!
Thou tree of covert and of rest For this young bird that is distrest; Among thy branches safe he lay, And he was free to sport and play, When falcons were abroad for prey. A recreant harp, that sings of fear And heaviness in Clifford's ear! I said, when evil men are strong, No life is good, no pleasure long; A weak and cowardly untruth! Our Clifford was a happy youth, And thankful through a weary time, That brought him up to manhood's prime. -Again he wanders forth at will, And tends a flock from hill to hill : His garb is humble ; ne'er was seen Such garb with such a noble mien ; Among the shepherd-grooms no mate Hath he, a child of strength and state ! Yet lacks not friends for solemn gleeA spirit-soothing company, That learned of him submissive ways, And comforted his private days. To his side the fallow-deer Came and rested without fear; The eagle, lord of land and sea, Stooped down to pay him fealty; And both the undying fish that swim Through Bowscale-tarn did wait on him: The pair were servants of his eye In their immortality; And glancing, gleaming, dark or bright, Moved to and fro for his delight. He knew the rocks that angels haunt, Upon the mountains visitant, He hath kenned them taking wing; And into caves where faeries sing He hath entered, and been told By voices how men lived of old. · Among the heavens his eye can see The face of thing that is to be ; And, if that men report him right, He can whisper words of might. -Now another day is come, Fitter hope and nobler doom ;
He hath thrown aside his crook,
Quell the Scot!' exclaims the lance;
First shall head the flock of war!”
That for a tranquil soul the lay was framed, Who, long compelled in humble walks to go,
Was softened into feeling, soothed, and tamed. Love had he found in huts where poor men lie;
His daily teachers had been woods and rills, The silence that is in the starry sky,
The sleep that is among the lonely hills. In him the savage virtue of the race,
Revenge and all ferocious thoughts, were dead :
The wisdom which adversity had bred.
The shepherd-lord was honoured more and more; And ages after he was laid in earth,
“The good Lord Clifford” was the name he bore.
RESOLUTION AND INDEPENDENCE. There was a roaring in the wind all night, The rain came heavily and fell in floods; But now the sun is rising calm and bright, 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 ;