That haunts the Sailor measuring o'er and o'er His short domain upon the vessel's deck, While she pursues her course through the dreary sea. When thou hadst quitted Esthwaite's pleasant shore, And taken thy first leave of those green hills Each other's mind was fashioned; and at length, Than common feelings of fraternal love. Was with thee; she, who loved us both, she still Of the vast sea didst bring a watchful heart And an eye practised like a blind man's touch. Back to the joyless Ocean thou art gone; Nor from this vestige of thy musing hours Could I withhold thy honored name, and now I love the fir-grove with a perfect love. Thither do I withdraw when cloudless suns Shine hot, or wind blows troublesome and strong; And there I sit at evening, when the steep Of Silver-how, and Grasmere's peaceful lake, And one green island, gleam between the stems Of the dark firs, a visionary scene! And while I gaze upon the spectacle Of clouded splendor, on this dream-like sight My Brother, and on all which thou hast lost. Mingling most earnest wishes for the day When we, and others whom we love, shall meet A second time, in Grasmere's happy Vale. 1805. NOTE. This wish was not granted; the lamented Person not long after perished by shipwreck, in discharge of his duty as commander of the Honorable East India Company's vessel, the Earl of Abergavenny. VII. FORTH from a jutting ridge, around whose base Winds our deep Vale, two heath-clad Rocks ascend In fellowship, the loftiest of the pair Rising to no ambitious height; yet both, O'er lake and stream, mountain and flowery mead, And took no note of the hour while thence they gazed, The blooming heath their couch, gazed, side by side, And frequent sharer of their calm delight POEMS OF THE FANCY. I. A MORNING EXERCISE., FANCY, who leads the pastimes of the glad, Blithe ravens croak of death; and when the owl Tries his two voices for a favorite strain, the unsuspecting fowl Forebodes mishap or seems but to complain; Fancy, intent to harass and annoy, Can thus pervert the evidence of joy. Through border wilds where naked Indians stray, Myriads of notes attest her subtle skill; A feathered taskmaster cries, "WORK AWAY!" And, in thy iteration, "WHIP POOR WILL!"* * See Waterton's Wanderings in South America. VOL. II. 2 Is heard the spirit of a toil-worn slave, What wonder? at her bidding, ancient lays The daisy sleeps upon the dewy lawn, Hail, blest above all kinds! — Supremely skilled Restless with fixed to balance, high with low, Thou leav'st the halcyon free her hopes to build On such forbearance as the deep may show ; Perpetual flight, unchecked by earthly ties, Leav'st to the wandering bird of paradise. Faithful, though swift as lightning, the meek Dove; So humble, yet so ready to rejoice In power of wing and never-wearied voice. |