Thou com'st to man's abode the spot grew dearer Her treasures less and less. In power, where once he trembled in his weakness; Science advances with gigantic strides ; But are we aught enriched in love and meekness? Aught dost thou see, bright Star! of pure and wise More than in humbler times graced human story; That makes our hearts more apt to sympathize With heaven, our souls more fit for future glory, When earth shall vanish from our closing eyes, Ere we lie down in our last dormitory? XLII. WANSFELL!* this Household has a favored lot, Living with liberty on thee to gaze, To watch while Morn first crowns thee with her rays, Or when along thy breast serenely float * The Hill that rises to the southeast, above Ambleside. Thy visionary majesties of light, How in thy pensive glooms our hearts found rest. Dec. 24, 1842. XLIII. WHILE beams of orient light shoot wide and high, Deep in the vale a little rural Town* Breathes forth a cloud-like creature of its own, Hangs o'er its Parent waking to the cares, Endears that Lingerer. And how blest her sway To the lone shepherd on the hills disclose XLIV. IN my mind's eye a Temple, like a cloud Rose out of darkness: the bright Work stood still; * Ambleside. But it was fashioned and to God was vowed loud, Into the consciousness of safety thrilled; And Love her towers of dread foundation laid Under the grave of things; Hope had her spire Star-high, and pointing still to something higher: Trembling I gazed, but heard a voice, it said, "Hell-gates are powerless Phantoms when we build." XLV. ON THE PROJECTED KENDAL AND WINDERMERE RAILWAY. Is then no nook of English ground secure *The degree and kind of attachment which many of the yeomanry feel to their small inheritances can scarcely be overrated. Near the house of one of them stands a magnificent tree, which a neighbor of the owner advised him to fell for profit's sake. "Fell it!" exclaimed the yeoman, "I had rather fall on my knees and worship it." It happens, I believe, that the intended railway would pass through this little property, and I hope that an apology for the answer will not be thought necessary by one who enters into the strength of the feeling. And must he too the ruthless change bemoan 'Mid his paternal fields at random thrown? Speak, passing winds; ye torrents, with your strong XLVI. PROUD were ye, Mountains, when, in times of old, Intrenched your brows; ye gloried in each scar: XLVII. AT FURNESS ABBEY. HERE, where, of havoc tired and rash undoing, That Nature takes, her counter-work pursuing. And, on the mouldered walls, how bright, how gay, Where, Cavendish, thine seems nothing but name! XLVIII. AT FURNESS ABBEY. WELL have yon Railway Laborers to THIS ground Is heard; to grave demeanor all are bound; |