Volume 8 — 1845

Forth from a jutting ridge, around whose base Winds our deep Vale, two heath-clad Rocks ascend[284][285] In fellowship, the loftiest of the pair Rising to no ambitious height; yet both, O’er lake[286] and stream, mountain and flowery mead, 5 Unfolding prospects fair as human eyes[287] Ever beheld. Up-led with mutual help, To one or other brow of those twin Peaks Were two adventurous Sisters wont to climb, And took no note of the hour while thence they gazed, 10 The blooming heath their couch, gazed, side by side, In speechless admiration. I, a witness And frequent sharer of their calm[288] delight With thankful heart, to either Eminence Gave the baptismal name each Sister bore. 15 Now are they parted,[289] far as Death’s cold hand Hath power to part the Spirits of those who love As they did love. Ye kindred Pinnacles— That, while the generations of mankind Follow each other to their hiding-place 20 In time’s abyss, are privileged to endure Beautiful in yourselves, and richly graced With like command of beauty—grant your aid For Mary’s humble, Sarah’s silent, claim, That their pure joy in nature may survive 25 From age to age in blended memory.

Part I Seek who will delight in fable I shall tell you truth. A Lamb Leapt from this steep bank to follow ’Cross the brook its thoughtless dam.[291] Far and wide on hill and valley 5 Rain had fallen, unceasing rain, And the bleating mother’s Young-one Struggled with the flood in vain: But, as chanced, a Cottage-maiden (Ten years scarcely had she told) 10 Seeing, plunged into the torrent, Clasped the Lamb and kept her hold. Whirled adown the rocky channel, Sinking, rising, on they go, Peace and rest, as seems, before them 15 Only in the lake below. Oh! it was a frightful current Whose fierce wrath the Girl had braved; Clap your hands with joy my Hearers, Shout in triumph, both are saved; 20 Saved by courage that with danger Grew, by strength the gift of love, And belike a guardian angel Came with succour from above. Part II Now, to a maturer Audience, 25 Let me speak of this brave Child Left among her native mountains With wild Nature to run wild. So, unwatched by love maternal, Mother’s care no more her guide, 30 Fared this little bright-eyed Orphan Even while at her father’s side. Spare your blame,—remembrance makes him Loth to rule by strict command; Still upon his cheek are living 35 Touches of her infant hand, Dear caresses given in pity, Sympathy that soothed his grief, As the dying mother witnessed To her thankful mind’s relief. 40 Time passed on; the Child was happy, Like a Spirit of air she moved, Wayward, yet by all who knew her For her tender heart beloved. Scarcely less than sacred passions, 45 Bred in house, in grove, and field, Link her with the inferior creatures, Urge her powers their rights to shield. Anglers, bent on reckless pastime, Learn how she can feel alike 50 Both for tiny harmless minnow And the fierce and sharp-toothed pike. Merciful protectress, kindling Into anger or disdain; Many a captive hath she rescued, 55 Others saved from lingering pain. Listen yet awhile;—with patience Hear the homely truths I tell, She in Grasmere’s old church-steeple Tolled this day the passing-bell. 60 Yes, the wild Girl of the mountains To their echoes gave the sound, Notice punctual as the minute, Warning solemn and profound. She, fulfilling her sire’s office, 65 Rang alone the far-heard knell, Tribute, by her hand, in sorrow, Paid to One who loved her well. When his spirit was departed On that service she went forth; 70 Nor will fail the like to render When his corse is laid in earth.[292] What then wants the Child to temper, In her breast, unruly fire, To control the froward impulse 75 And restrain the vague desire? Easily a pious training And a stedfast outward power Would supplant the weeds and cherish, In their stead, each opening flower. 80 Thus the fearless Lamb-deliv’rer, Woman-grown, meek-hearted, sage, May become a blest example For her sex, of every age.[293] Watchful as a wheeling eagle, 85 Constant as a soaring lark, Should the country need a heroine, She might prove our Maid of Arc. Leave that thought; and here be uttered Prayer that Grace divine may raise 90 Her humane courageous spirit Up to heaven, thro’ peaceful ways.[294]

Well have yon Railway Labourers to THIS ground Withdrawn for noontide rest. They sit, they walk Among the Ruins, but no idle talk Is heard; to grave demeanour all are bound; And from one voice a Hymn with tuneful sound 5 Hallows once more the long-deserted Quire[295] And thrills the old sepulchral earth, around. Others look up, and with fixed eyes admire That wide-spanned arch, wondering how it was raised, To keep, so high in air, its strength and grace: 10 All seem to feel the spirit of the place, And by the general reverence God is praised: Profane Despoilers, stand ye not reproved, While thus these simple-hearted men are moved? June 21st, 1845.

Yes! thou art fair, yet be not moved To scorn the declaration, That sometimes I in thee have loved My fancy’s own creation. Imagination needs must stir; 5 Dear Maid, this truth believe, Minds that have nothing to confer Find little to perceive. Be pleased that nature made thee fit To feed my heart’s devotion, 10 By laws to which all Forms submit In sky, air, earth, and ocean.

What heavenly smiles! O Lady mine Through my[296] very heart they shine; And, if my brow gives back their light, Do thou look gladly on the sight; As the clear Moon with modest pride Beholds her own bright beams Reflected from the mountain’s side And from the headlong streams.

Fair Lady! can I sing of flowers That in Madeira bloom and fade, I who ne’er sate within their bowers, Nor through their sunny lawns have strayed? How they in sprightly dance are worn 5 By Shepherd-groom or May-day queen, Or holy festal pomps adorn, These eyes have never seen. Yet tho’ to me the pencil’s art No like remembrances can give, 10 Your portraits still may reach the heart And there for gentle pleasure live; While Fancy ranging with free scope Shall on some lovely Alien set A name with us endeared to hope, 15 To peace, or fond regret.[297] Still as we look with nicer care, Some new resemblance we may trace: A Heart’s-ease will perhaps be there, A Speedwell may not want its place. 20 And so may we, with charmèd mind Beholding what your skill has wrought, Another Star-of-Bethlehem find, A new[298] Forget-me-not. From earth to heaven with motion fleet 25 From heaven to earth our thoughts will pass, A Holy-thistle here we meet And there a Shepherd’s weather-glass; And haply some familiar name Shall grace the fairest, sweetest, plant 30 Whose presence cheers the drooping frame Of English Emigrant. Gazing she feels its power beguile Sad thoughts, and breathes with easier breath; Alas! that meek that tender smile 35 Is but a harbinger of death: And pointing with a feeble hand She says, in faint words by sighs broken, Bear for me to my native land This precious Flower, true love’s last token. 40

Days undefiled by luxury or sloth, Firm self-denial, manners grave and staid, Rights equal, laws with cheerfulness obeyed, Words that require no sanction from an oath, And simple honesty a common growth— 5 This high repute, with bounteous Nature’s aid, Won confidence, now ruthlessly betrayed At will, your power the measure of your troth!— All who revere the memory of Penn Grieve for the land on whose wild woods his name[299] 10 Was fondly grafted with a virtuous aim, Renounced, abandoned by degenerate Men For state-dishonour black as ever came To upper air from Mammon’s loathsome den.[300]

Young England—what is then become of Old Of dear Old England? Think they she is dead, Dead to the very name? Presumption fed On empty air! That name will keep its hold In the true filial bosom’s inmost fold 5 For ever.—The Spirit of Alfred, at the head Of all who for her rights watch’d, toil’d and bled, Knows that this prophecy is not too bold. What—how! shall she submit in will and deed To Beardless Boys—an imitative race, 10 The servum pecus of a Gallic breed? Dear Mother! if thou must thy steps retrace, Go where at least meek Innocency dwells; Let Babes and Sucklings be thy oracles.