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Old and gouty, we are confined to eyeing a page of Paradise Lost, our chair ; and occasionally, during and at another of Paradise Regainan hour of rainless sunshine, are ed, for what else is the face of her wheeled by female hands along the who often visiteth our Eden, and gravel-walks of our Policy, an un- whose coming and whose going is repining and philosophical valetudi- ever like a heavenly dream! Then narian. Even the crutch is laid up laying back our head upon the in ordinary, and is encircled with cushion of our triumphal car, and cobwebs. A monstrous spider has with half-shut eyes, subsiding slowthere set up his rest ; and our still ly into haunted sleep or slumber, Study ever and anon hearkens to with our fine features up to heaven, the shrill buz of some poor fly ex a saint-like image, such as Raphael piring between those formidable loved to paint, or Flaxman to emforceps—just as so many human bue with the soul of stillness in the ephemerals have breathed their last life-hushed marble. Such, dearest beneath the bite of his indulgent reader, are some of our pastimesmaster. 'Tis pleasant to look at and so do we contrive to close our Domitian—so we love to call him- ears to the sound of the scythe of sallying from the centre against a Saturn, ceaselessly sweeping over wearied wasp, lying, like a silk- the earth, and leaving, at every worm, circumvoluted in the inextri- stride of the mower, a swathe more cable toils, and then, seizing the rueful than ever, after a night of sinnar by the nape of the neck, to shipwreck, did strew with ghastlisee the emperor haul him away in- ness a lee sea-shore ! to the charnel-house.
Thus do we make a virtue of have ofter less savage recreations : necessity—and thus contentment -such as watching our bee-hives wreathes with silk and velvet the when about to send forth colonies— prisoner's chains.
Once were we feeding our pigeons, a purple peo- —long, long ago-restless as a sunple that dazzle the daylight-ga- beam on the restless wave-rapid thering roses as they choke our as a river that seems enraged with small chariot-wheels with their the rocks, but all the while in love golden orbs—eating grapes out of “ Doth make sweet music with th' enameld vine-leaf-draperied baskets beautifying beneath gentle fingers into strong as a steed let loose from fairy net-work graceful as the gos- Arab's tent in the oasis to slake his samer-drinking elder-flower fron- thirst at the desart well—fierce in tiniac from invisible glasses, so our harmless joy as a red-deer belltransparent in its yellowness seems ing on the hills—tameless as the the liquid radiance-at one moment eagle sporting in the storm-gay as
19 ATHENEUM VOL. 5, 3d series.
the “dolphin on a tropic sea ” and midnight, the face of Ourself, “mad as young bulls "—and wild or of Windermere. as a whole wilderness of adolescent Windermere ! Why, at this lions. But now—alas ! and alack- blessed moment, we behold, the a-day ! the sunbeam is but a patch beauty of all its intermingling isles ! of sober verdure—the river is There they are—all gazing down changed into a canal—the “ de- on their own reflected loveliness in sart-born is foundered—the red- the magic mirror of the air-like wadeer is slow as an old ram—the ter, just as many a holy time we eagle has forsook his cliff and his have seen them all agaze, when, clouds, and hops among the goose- with suspended oar and suspended berry bushes-the dolphin has de- breath-no sound but a ripple on generated into a land-tortoise- the Naiad's bow, and a beating at without danger now might a very our own heart-motionless in our child take the bull by the horns- own motionless bark—we seemed and though something of a lion still, to float midway down that beautiful our roar is, like that of the nightin- abyss, between the heaven above gale, most musical, most melan- and the heaven below, on choly - and, as we attempt to strange terrestrial scene composed shake our mane, your grandmother of trees and the shadows of trees by -fair subscriber-cannot choose the imagination made indistinguishbut weep!
able to the eye, and as delight deepIt speaks, folios in favor of our ened into dreams, all lost at last, philanthropy, to know that, in our clouds, groves, water, air, sky, in own imprisonment, we love to see their various and profound confuall life free as air. Would that by sion of supernatural peace! But a a word of ours we could clothe all sca-born breeze is on Bowness human shoulders with wings ! Bay; all at once the lake is blue as Would that by a word of ours we the sky; and that evanescent world could plume all human spirits with is felt to have been but a vision. thoughts strong as the eagle's pin- Like swans that had been asleep ions, that they might winnow their in the airless sunshine, lo! where way into the empyrean! Tories! from every shady nook appear the Yes! we are Tories. Our faith is white-sailed pianaces !
For on in the Divine right of kings,—but merry Windermere easy, my boys, easy-all free men know—every breezy hour has its are kings, and they hold their em own Regatta ! pire from heaven. That is our po But intending to be useful, we litical—philosophical-moral—reli- are becoming ornamental ; of this gious creed. In its spirit we have article it must not be said, that lived-and in its spirit we hope to
“ Pure description holds the place of sense die—not on the scaffold like Sidney -no-no-no-not by any manner therefore, let us be simple, but not of means like Sidney on the scaffold silly, as plain as is possible without --but like ourselves on a hair mat- being prosy, as instructive as is tress above a feather-bed, our head consistent with being entertaining, decently sunk in three pillows and a cheerful companion and a trusty one bolster, and our frame stretched guide. out unagitatedly beneath a white We shall suppose that
have counterpane ! But meanwhile- left Kendal, and are on your way to though almost as unlocomotive as Bowness. Forget, as much as the dead-in body—there is per- may be, all worldly cares and anxpetual motion in our souls. Sleep ieties, and let your hearts be open. is one thing, and stagnation is ano- and free to all genial impulses ther-as is well known to all eyes about to be breathed into them from that have ever seen, by moonlight the beautiful and sub}ime in nature.
There is no need of that foolish scurely passing away from our eyes, state of feeling called enthusiasm. re-illumined with the visions of its You have but to be happy; and by early morn. The shows of nature and by your happiness will grow in- are indeed evanescent, but their to delight. The blue mountains spiritual influences are immortal ; already set your imaginations at and from that grove now glowing in work; among those clouds and the sunlight, may your heart derive mists, you fancy many a magnifi- a delight that shall utterly perish cent precipice-and in the valleys but in the grave ! that sleep below, you image to But now you are in the White yourselves the scenery of rivers and Lion, and our advice to you-perlakes. The landscape immediately haps unnecessary—is immediately around gradually grows more and to order breakfast.
There are mamore picturesque and romantic ; ny parlors-some with a charming and you feel that you are on the prospect, and some without any very borders of Fairy-Land. The prospect at all; but remember that first smile of Windermere salutes there are other people in the world your impatient eyes, and sinks si- besides yourselves, and therefore, lently into your heart. You know into whatever parlor you may be aot how beautiful it may be-nor shown by a pretty maid, be contentyet in what the beauty consists ; ed, and lose no time in addressing but your finest sensibilities to na- yourselves to your repast.
That ture are touched--and a tinge of over, be in no hurry to get on the poetry, as from a rainbow, over- Laké. Perhaps all the boats ar spreads that cluster of islands that engaged-and Billy Balmer is at seems to woo you to their still re- the Waterhead. So stroll into the treats. And now
churchyard, and take a glance over Wonded Winandermere, the river-lake,"
the graves. Close to the oriel
window of the church is one tomb with all its bays and promontories, over which one might meditate half lies in the morning light serene as
autumnal day ! Enter the a Sabbath, and cheerful as a Holi- church, and you will feel the beauday; and you feel that there is ty of these fine lines in the Excurloveliness on this earth more exqui- sionsite and perfect than ever visited your slumbers eren in the glimpses But large and massy; for duration built;
“ Not raised in nice proportions was the pilo, of a dream, The first sight of With pillars crowded, and the roof upheld such a scene will be unforgotten to By naked rafiers extricately crossid, your dying day-for such passive
Like lealless underboughs, mid some thick
grove, impressions are deeper than we can All wither’d by the depth of shade above ! explain-our whole spiritual being is suddenly awakened to receive Now turn your faces up the hill them—and associations, swift as above the village school. That light, are gathered into one Emo- green mount is what is called ation of Beauty which shall be im- Station. The villagers are admirperishable, and which, often as me- ing a grove of parasols, while you tory recalls that moment, grows the party—are admiring the vilinto genius, and vents itself in ap- lage-with its irregular roofs propriate expressions, each in itself white, blue, grey, green, brown, a picture. Thus may one moment and black walls-fruit-laden trees minister to years ; and the life-wea- so yellow-its central church-tower ried heart of old age, by one de- -and environing groves variously lightful remembrance, bé restored burnished by autumn. to primal joy--the glory of the past ever banks and braes and knolls so brought beaningly upon the faded beautifully bedropt with human present--and the world that is ob- dwellings? There is no solitude
about Windermere. Shame on hu- aye over those golden waves! A man nature were Paradise uninha- hermit-cell on sweet Lady-Holm! bited! Here, in amicable neigh- A silvan shieling on Louglirig side! borhood, are halls and huts—here A nest in that nameless dell, which rises through groves the dome of sees but one small slip of heaven, the rich man's palace,—and there and longs at night for the reascendthe low roof of the poor man's cot- ing visit of its few loving stars! A tage beneath its one single syca- dwelling open to all the skiey influmore! Here are hundreds of small ence on the mountain-brow, the properties hereditary in the same darling of the rising or the setting families for many hundred years— sun, und often seen by eyes in the and never, never, O Westmoreland! lower world glittering through the may thy race of statesmen be extinct rainbow ! --Dor the virtues that ennoble their All this seems a very imperfect humble households ! See, sudden- picture indeed, or panorama of ly brought forth by sunshine from Windermere, from the hill behind among the old woods—and then the schoolhouse in the village of sinking away into her usual unob- Bowness. So, to put a stop to trusive serenity—the lake-loving such nonsense, let us descend to the Rayrig, almost level, so it seems, White Lion-and inquire about with the water, yet smiling over her Billy Balmer. Billy has arrived own quiet bay from the grove-shel- from Waterhead-seems tolerably ter of her pastoral mound! With- steady-Mr. Ullock's boats may be in her walls may peace ever dwell trusted-so let us take a voyage of with piety—and the light of science discovery on the Lake. Let those long blend with the lustre of the who have reason to think that they domestic hearth. Thence to Cal- have been born to die a different garth is all one forest---yet glade- death from drowning, hoist a sail. broken, and enlivened by open up- We to-day shall feather an oar. lands, so that the roamer, while he Billy takes the stroke-Mr. Wilexpects a night of umbrage, often liam Garnet's at the helm-and finds himself in the open day, be row, vassals, row ! for the pride neath tbe bright blue bow of hea- of the Lowlands," is the choral ven haply without a cloud. The song that accompanies the Vaiad eye travels delighted over the mul- out of the bay, and round the north titudinous tree-tops-often dense as end of the Isle called Beautiful, one single tree-till it rests, in sub- under the wave-darkening umbrage lime satisfaction, on the far-off of that ancient oak. And now we mountains, that lose not a woody are in the lovely straits between character, till the tree-sprinkled that Island and the mainland of pastures roughen into rocks-and Furness Fells. The village has rocks tower into precipices, where disappeared, but not melted away; the falcons breed. But the lake for, hark! the church-tower tolls will not suffer the eye long to wan- ten,—and see the sun is high in der among the distant glooms. heaven. High, but not hot--for She wins us wholly to herself—and the first September frosts chilled restlessly and passionately for a the rosy singers of the morn as she while-but calmly and affectionate- bathed them in the dews, and the ly at last—the heart embraces all air is cool as a cucumber. Cool her beauty, and wishes that the vi- but bland--and as clear and transsion might endure forever, and parent as a fine eye lighted up by a that here our tent were pitched—to good conscience. There be struck no more during our earth- breezes in Bowness Bay—but here ly pilgrimage! Imagination lapses there are none—or, if there be, into a thousand moods. O for a they but whisper aloft in the treefairy pinnace to glide and float for tops, and ruffle not the water, which
is calm as Louisa's breast. The small honey-moon. You can hand your isles here are but few in number bride into a boat almost out of the -yet the best arithmetician of the parlor window, and be off among the party cannot count them—in confu- islands in a moment, or into nook or sion so rich and rare do they blend bay where no prying eye, even their shadows with those of the through telescope, (a most unwargroves on the Isle called Beautiful, rantable instrument,) can overlook and on the Furness Fells! A tide your happiness ; or you can secrete imperceptible to the eye, drifts us yourselves, like buck and doe, on among and above those beautiful among the lady-fern on Furness reflections—that downward world of Fells, where not a sunbeam can inhanging dreams! and ever and anon trude on your sacred privacy, and we beckon unto Billy gently to dip where you may melt down hours to his oar, that we may see a world moments in chaste connubial bliss, destroyed and recreated in one brightening futurity with plans of moment of time. Yes ! Billy! domestic enjoyment, like long lines thou art a poet-and canst work of lustre streaming across the lake. more wonders with thine oar than But at present, let us visit the Fortcould he with his pen who painted looking Building among the cliffs, “heavenly Una with her milk-white called The Station, and see how lamb," wandering by herself in Windermere looks as we front the Fairy-Land. How is it, pray, that east. Why, you would not know it our souls are satiated with such to be the same lake. The Isle callbeauty as this? Is it because 'tis ed Beautiful, which heretofore had unsubstantial all-senseless, though scarcely seemed an isle, appearing fair—and in its evanescence unsuit- to belong to one or other shore of ed to the sympathies that yearn for the mainland, from this point of view the permanences of breathing life? is an isle indeed, loading the lake Dreams are delightful only as delu- with a weight of beauty, and giving sions within the delusion of this our it an ineffable character of richness mortal waking existence-one touch which nowhere else does it
possess, of what we call reality dissolves them while the other lesser isles, dropt all-blissful though they may have “in nature's careless haste” bebeen, we care not when the bubble tween it and the Furness Fells, conbursts—nay, we are glad again to nect it still with those lovely shores return to our own natural world, from which it floats a short way care-haunted, though, in its happi- apart, without being disunited—one est moods, it be-glad as if we had spirit blending the whole together escaped from glamoury-and, oh! within the compass of a fledgling's beyond expression sweet it is once flight. Beyond these more to drink the light of living “ Sister isles that smile eyes—the music of living lips-af Together like a happy family ter that preternatural hush that
Of beauty and of love,” steeps the shadowy realms of the the eye meets the Rayrig-woods, imagination, whether stretching with but a gleam of water between, along a sunset-heaven, or the mys- only visible in sunshine, and is gentical imagery of earth and sky tly conducted by them up the hills floating in the lustre of lake or sea. of Applethwaite diversified with cul
Therefore “ row, vassals, row, for tivated enclosures “ all green as the pride of the Lowlands,” and as emerald,” to their very summits, rowing is a thirsty exercise, let us with all their pastoral and arable land at the Ferry, and each man re- grounds besprinkled with stately fresh himself with a horn of ale. single trees, copses, or groves. On
There is not a prettier place on the nearer side of these hills is seen, all Windermere than the Ferry- stretching far off to other lofty rehouse, or one better adapted for a gions-Hill-bell and High-street