Poems in Two Volumes, vol 1 | Page 8

not if thine eye?Be on them; who, in love and truth, 10 Where no misgiving is, rely?Upon the genial sense of youth:?Glad Hearts! without reproach or blot;?Who do thy work, and know it not:?May joy be theirs while life shall last!?And Thou, if they should totter, teach them to stand fast!
Serene will be our days and bright,?And happy will our nature be,?When love is an unerring light,?And joy its own security. 20 And bless'd are they who in the main?This faith, even now, do entertain:?Live in the spirit of this creed;?Yet find that other strength, according to their need.
I, loving freedom, and untried;?No sport of every random gust,?Yet being to myself a guide,?Too blindly have reposed my trust:?Resolved that nothing e'er should press?Upon my present happiness, 30 I shoved unwelcome tasks away;?But thee I now would serve more strictly, if I may.
Through no disturbance of my soul,?Or strong compunction in me wrought,?I supplicate for thy controul;?But in the quietness of thought:?Me this uncharter'd freedom tires;?I feel the weight of chance desires:?My hopes no more must change their name,?I long for a repose which ever is the same. 40
Yet not the less would I throughout?Still act according to the voice?Of my own wish; and feel past doubt?That my submissiveness was choice:?Not seeking in the school of pride?For "precepts over dignified,"?Denial and restraint I prize?No farther than they breed a second Will more wise.
Stern Lawgiver! yet thou dost wear?The Godhead's most benignant grace; 50 Nor know we any thing so fair?As is the smile upon thy face;?Flowers laugh before thee on their beds;?And Fragrance in thy footing treads;?Thou dost preserve the Stars from wrong;?And the most ancient Heavens through Thee are fresh and strong.
To humbler functions, awful Power!?I call thee: I myself commend?Unto thy guidance from this hour;?Oh! let my weakness have an end! 60 Give unto me, made lowly wise,?The spirit of self-sacrifice;?The confidence of reason give;?And in the light of truth thy Bondman let me live!
POEMS COMPOSED DURING A TOUR, CHIEFLY ON FOOT.
1. BEGGARS.
She had a tall Man's height, or more;?No bonnet screen'd her from the heat;?A long drab-colour'd Cloak she wore,?A Mantle reaching to her feet:?What other dress she had I could not know;?Only she wore a Cap that was as white as snow.
In all my walks, through field or town,?Such Figure had I never seen:?Her face was of Egyptian brown:?Fit person was she for a Queen, 10 To head those ancient Amazonian files:?Or ruling Bandit's Wife, among the Grecian Isles.
Before me begging did she stand,?Pouring out sorrows like a sea;?Grief after grief:--on English Land?Such woes I knew could never be;?And yet a boon I gave her; for the Creature?Was beautiful to see; a Weed of glorious feature!
I left her, and pursued my way;?And soon before me did espy 20 A pair of little Boys at play,?Chasing a crimson butterfly;?The Taller follow'd with his hat in hand,?Wreath'd round with yellow flow'rs, the gayest of the land.
The Other wore a rimless crown,?With leaves of laurel stuck about:?And they both follow'd up and down,?Each whooping with a merry shout;?Two Brothers seem'd they, eight and ten years old;?And like that Woman's face as gold is like to gold. 30
They bolted on me thus, and lo!?Each ready with a plaintive whine;?Said I, "Not 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