Poems in Two Volumes, vol 1 | Page 2

had taken flight;
Some chime of fancy wrong or right;
Or stray invention.
If stately passions in me burn,
And one chance look to Thee should
turn, 50 I drink out of an humbler urn
A lowlier pleasure;
The homely sympathy that heeds
The common
life, our nature breeds;
A wisdom fitted to the needs
Of hearts at leisure.
When, smitten by the morning ray,
I see thee rise alert and gay,

Then, chearful Flower! my spirits play
With kindred motion: 60 At dusk, I've seldom mark'd thee press
The
ground, as if in thankfulness,
Without some feeling, more or less,

Of true devotion.
And all day long I number yet,
All seasons through, another debt,

Which I wherever thou art met,
To thee am owing;
An instinct call it, a blind sense;
A happy, genial
influence, 70 Coming one knows not how nor whence,
Nor whither going.
Child of the Year! that round dost run
Thy course, bold lover of the
sun,
And chearful when the day's begun
As morning Leveret,
Thou long the Poet's praise shalt gain;
Thou
wilt be more belov'd by men
In times to come; thou not in vain
Art Nature's Favorite. 80
LOUISA.

I met Louisa in the shade;
And, having seen that lovely Maid,
Why
should I fear to say
That she is ruddy, fleet, and strong;
And down
the rocks can leap along,
Like rivulets in May?
And she hath smiles to earth unknown;
Smiles, that with motion of
their own
Do spread, and sink, and rise;
That come and go with
endless play, 10 And ever, as they pass away,
Are hidden in her eyes.
She loves her fire, her Cottage-home;
Yet o'er the moorland will she
roam
In weather rough and bleak;
And when against the wind she
strains,
Oh! might I kiss the mountain rains
That sparkle on her
cheek.
Take all that's mine 'beneath the moon',
If I with her but half a noon
20 May sit beneath the walls
Of some old cave, or mossy nook,


When up she winds along the brook,
To hunt the waterfalls.
FIDELITY.

A barking sound the Shepherd hears,
A cry as of a Dog or Fox;
He
halts, and searches with his eyes
Among the scatter'd rocks:
And
now at distance can discern
A stirring in a brake of fern;
From
which immediately leaps out
A Dog, and yelping runs about.
The Dog is not of mountain breed;
It's motions, too, are wild and shy;
10 With something, as the Shepherd thinks,
Unusual in its' cry:
Nor
is there any one in sight
All round, in Hollow or on Height;
Nor
shout, nor whistle strikes his ear;
What is the Creature doing here?
It was a Cove, a huge Recess,
That keeps till June December's snow;

A lofty Precipice in front,
A silent Tarn [1] below! 20 Far in the
bosom of Helvellyn,
Remote from public Road or Dwelling,

Pathway, or cultivated land;
From trace of human foot or hand.
[Footnote 1: A Tarn is a small Mere or Lake mostly high up in the
mountains.]
There, sometimes does a leaping Fish
Send through the Tarn a lonely
chear;
The Crags repeat the Raven's croak,
In symphony austere;

Thither the Rainbow comes, the Cloud;
And Mists that spread the
flying shroud; 30 And Sun-beams; and the sounding blast,
That, if it
could, would hurry past,
But that enormous Barrier binds it fast.
Not knowing what to think, a while
The Shepherd stood: then makes
his way
Towards the Dog, o'er rocks and stones,
As quickly as he
may;
Nor far had gone before he found
A human skeleton on the
ground,
Sad sight! the Shepherd with a sigh 40 Looks round, to learn
the history.

From those abrupt and perilous rocks,
The Man had fallen, that place
of fear!
At length upon the Shepherd's mind
It breaks, and all is
clear:
He instantly recall'd the Name,
And who he was, and whence
he came;
Remember'd, too, the very day
On which the Traveller
pass'd this way.
But hear a wonder now, for sake 50 Of which this mournful Tale I tell!

A lasting monument of words
This wonder merits well.
The Dog,
which still was hovering nigh,
Repeating the same timid cry,
This
Dog had been through three months' space
A Dweller in that savage
place.
Yes, proof was plain that since the day
On which the Traveller thus
had died
The Dog had watch'd about the spot, 60 Or by his Master's
side:
How nourish'd here through such long time
He knows, who
gave that love sublime,
And gave that strength of feeling, great

Above all human estimate.
SHE WAS A PHANTOM OF DELIGHT

She was a Phantom of delight
When first she gleam'd upon my sight;

A lovely Apparition, sent
To be a moment's ornament;
Her eyes
as stars of Twilight fair;
Like Twilight's, too, her dusky hair;
But all
things else about her drawn
From May-time and the chearful Dawn;

A dancing Shape, an Image gay,
To haunt, to startle, and way-lay.
10
I saw her upon nearer view,
A Spirit, yet a Woman too!
Her
household motions light and free,
And steps of virgin liberty;
A
countenance in which did meet
Sweet records, promises as sweet;
A
Creature not too bright or good
For human nature's daily food;
For
transient sorrows, simple wiles,
Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and
smiles. 20

And