Now, coaches and chariots! roar on like a stream ; XIII. STAR-GAZERS. 1806. WHAT crowd is this? what have we here! we must not pass it by; Long is it as a barber's pole, or mast of little boat, The Show-man chooses well his place, 'tis Leicester's busy Square; And is as happy in his night, for the heavens are blue and fair; Calm, though impatient, is the crowd; each stands ready with the fee, And envies him that's looking;—what an insight must it be! Yet, Showman, where can lie the cause? Shall thy Implement have blame, A boaster, that when he is tried, fails, and is put to shame? Is nothing of that radiant pomp so good as we have here? Or is it rather that Conceit rapacious is and strong, And bounty never yields so much but it seems to do her wrong? Or is it, that when human Souls a journey long have had And are returned into themselves, they cannot but be sad? Or must we be constrained to think that these Spectators rude, power Does, then, a deep and earnest thought the blissful mind employ Of him who gazes, or has gazed? a grave and steady joy, That doth reject all show of pride, admits no outward sign, Because not of this noisy world, but silent and divine! Whatever be the cause, 'tis sure that they who pry and pore Seem to meet with little gain, seem less happy than before : One after One they take their turn, nor have I one espied That doth not slackly go away, as if dissatisfied. 1806. WHILE RESTING ON THE BRIDGE AT THE FOOT OF BROTHER'S WATER. THE Cock is crowing, The stream is flowing, The lake doth glitter, The green field sleeps in the sun; The oldest and youngest Are at work with the strongest ; The cattle are grazing, Their heads never raising ; There are forty feeding like one! Like an army defeated The snow hath retreated, On the top of the bare hill; The Ploughboy is whooping-anon—anon : There's joy in the mountains; There's life in the fountains; Blue sky prevailing; The rain is over and gone! 1801. XV BEGGARS. BEFORE my eyes a Wanderer stood. Of the blue cloak which to her feet Only she wore a cap as white as new-fallen snow. Her skin was of Egyptian brown: Haughty, as if her eye had seen Its own light to a distance thrown, To lead those ancient Amazonian files s; Or ruling Bandit's wife among the Grecian isles. She begged an alms; no scruple checked The current of her ready plea, Words that could challenge no respect But from a blind credulity; And yet a boon I gave her; for the creature Was beautiful to see—a weed of glorious feature! I left her, and pursued my way; A pair of little Boys at play, The taller followed with his hat in hand, Wreathed round with yellow flowers the gayest of the land. The other wore a rimless crown With leaves of laurel stuck about; And, while both followed up and down, In their fraternal features I could trace Yet they, so blithe of heart, seemed fit For finest tasks of earth or air : Wings let them have, and they might flit Precursors to Aurora's car, Scattering fresh flowers; though happier far, I ween, To hunt their fluttering game o'er rock and level green. They dart across my path-but lo, Your Mother has had alms of mine." "That cannot be, one answered-" she is dead :" I looked reproof-they saw-but neither hung his head. |