Poems in Two Volumes, vol 1 | Page 9

half an hour ago
Your Mother has had alms of mine."

"That cannot be," one answer'd, "She is dead."
"Nay but I gave her
pence, and she will buy you bread."

"She has been dead, Sir, many a day."
"Sweet Boys, you're telling me
a lie";
"It was your Mother, as I say--"
And in the twinkling of an
eye, 40 "Come, come!" cried one; and, without more ado,
Off to
some other play they both together flew.
2. TO A SKY-LARK.
Up with me! up with me into the clouds!
For thy song, Lark, is strong;

Up with me, up with me into the clouds!
Singing, singing,
With
all the heav'ns about thee ringing,
Lift me, guide me, till I find
That
spot which seems so to thy mind!
I have walk'd through wildernesses dreary,
And today my heart is
weary;
Had I now the soul of a Faery, 10 Up to thee would I fly.

There is madness about thee, and joy divine
In that song of thine;
Up with me, up with me, high and high,
To
thy banqueting-place in the sky! 15
Joyous as Morning,
Thou art laughing and scorning;
Thou hast a
nest, for thy love and thy rest:
And, though little troubled with sloth,

Drunken Lark! thou would'st be loth 20 To be such a Traveller as I.
Happy, happy Liver!
With a soul as strong as a mountain River,

Pouring out praise to the Almighty Giver,
Joy and jollity be with us
both!
Hearing thee, or else some other,
As merry a Brother,
I on
the earth will go plodding on,
By myself, chearfully, till the day is
done.
3. With how sad Steps, O Moon, thou climb'st the Sky
3.
"With how sad steps, O Moon thou climb'st the sky.
How silently,
and with how wan a face!" [2]
Where art thou? Thou whom I have
seen on high
Running among the clouds a Wood-nymph's race?


Unhappy Nuns, whose common breath's a sigh
Which they would
stifle, move at such a pace!
The Northern Wind, to call thee to the
chace,
Must blow tonight his bugle horn. Had I
The power of
Merlin, Goddess! this should be
And all the Stars, now shrouded up
in heaven,
Should sally forth to keep thee company.
What strife
would then be yours, fair Creatures, driv'n
Now up, now down, and
sparkling in your glee!
But, Cynthia, should to Thee the palm be giv'n,

Queen both for beauty and for majesty.
[Footnote 2: From a sonnet of Sir Philip Sydney.]
4. ALICE FELL.
The Post-boy drove with fierce career,
For threat'ning clouds the
moon had drown'd;
When suddenly I seem'd to hear
A moan, a
lamentable sound.
As if the wind blew many ways
I heard the sound, and more and
more:
It seem'd to follow with the Chaise,
And still I heard it as
before.
At length I to the Boy call'd out,
He stopp'd his horses at the word; 10
But neither cry, nor voice, nor shout,
Nor aught else like it could be
heard.
The Boy then smack'd his whip, and fast
The horses scamper'd
through the rain;
And soon I heard upon the blast
The voice, and
bade him halt again.
Said I, alighting on the ground,
"What can it be, this piteous moan?"

And there a little Girl I found,
Sitting behind the Chaise, alone. 20
"My Cloak!" the word was last and first,
And loud and bitterly she
wept,
As if her very heart would burst;
And down from off the
Chaise she leapt.

"What ails you, Child?" she sobb'd, "Look here!"
I saw it in the wheel
entangled,
A weather beaten Rag as e'er
From any garden
scare-crow dangled.
'Twas twisted betwixt nave and spoke;
Her help she lent, and with
good heed 30 Together we released the Cloak;
A wretched, wretched
rag indeed!
"And whither are you going, Child,
To night along these lonesome
ways?"
"To Durham" answer'd she half wild--
"Then come with me
into the chaise."
She sate like one past all relief;
Sob after sob she forth did send
In
wretchedness, as if her grief
Could never, never, have an end. 40
"My Child, in Durham do you dwell?"
She check'd herself in her
distress,
And said, "My name is Alice Fell;
I'm fatherless and
motherless."
"And I to Durham, Sir, belong."
And then, as if the thought would
choke
Her very heart, her grief grew strong;
And all was for her
tatter'd Cloak.
The chaise drove on; our journey's end
Was nigh; and, sitting by my
side, 50 As if she'd lost her only friend
She wept, nor would be
pacified.
Up to the Tavern-door we post;
Of Alice and her grief I told;
And I
gave money to the Host,
To buy a new Cloak for the old.
"And let it be of duffil grey,
As warm a cloak as man can sell!"

Proud Creature was she the next day,
The little Orphan, Alice Fell!
60
5. RESOLUTION AND INDEPENDENCE.

There was a roaring in the wind all night;
The rain came heavily and
fell in floods;
But now the sun is rising calm and bright;
The birds
are singing in the distant woods;
Over his own sweet voice the
Stock-dove broods;
The Jay makes answer as the Magpie chatters;

And all the air is fill'd with