Volume 8 — INDEX TO FIRST LINES

VOL.PAGE

A barking sound the Shepherd hears,iii44

A Book came forth of late, called Peter Bell;vi212

A bright-haired company of youthful slaves,vii14

Abruptly paused the strife;—the field throughoutvi216

A dark plume fetch me from yon blasted yew,vi248

Adieu, Rydalian Laurels! that have grownvii342

Advance—come forth from thy Tyrolean ground,iv214

Aerial Rock—whose solitary browvi188

A famous man is Robin Hood,ii403

Affections lose their object; Time brings forth,viii185

A flock of sheep that leisurely pass by,iv43

A genial hearth, a hospitable board,vii87

A German Haggis from receiptviii272

Age! twine thy brows with fresh spring flowers,ii414

Ah! if I were a lady gayviii262

Ah, think how one compelled for life to abide,viii110

A humming Bee—a little tinkling rill—v106

Ah, when the Body, round which in love we clung,vii19

Ah! where is Palafox? Nor tongue nor peniv240

Ah why deceive ourselves! by no mere fit,viii86

Aid, glorious Martyrs, from your fields of light,vii64

Alas! what boots the long laborious questiv216

“A little onward lend thy guiding hand”vi133

All praise the Likeness by thy skill portrayed,viii114

Along the mazes of this song I go,viii233

A love-lorn Maid, at some far-distant time,vi253

Ambition—following down this far-famed slopevi356

Amid a fertile region green with woodvii301

Amid the smoke of cities did you passii157

Amid this dance of objects sadness stealsvi299

Among a grave fraternity of Monks,viii6

Among all lovely things my Love had been,viii232

Among the dwellers in the silent fields,viii310

Among the dwellings framed by birdsvii325

Among the mountains were we nursed, loved Stream!vi193

Among the mountains were we nursed, loved Stream!vii345

A month, sweet Little-ones, is pastiv63

An age hath been when Earth was proudvi146

A narrow girdle of rough stones and crags,ii164

And has the Sun his flaming chariot driven,viii211

And is it among rude untutored Dales,iv222

And is this—Yarrow?—This the Streamvi36

And, not in vain embodied to the sight,vii40

“And shall,” the Pontiff asks, “profaneness flow”vii30

And what is Penance with her knotted thong;vii50

And what melodious sounds at times prevail!vii40

An Orpheus! an Orpheus! yes, Faith may grow bold,iv20

Another year!—another deadly blow!iv49

A pen—to register; a key—vii117

A Pilgrim, when the summer dayvi167

A plague on your languages, German and Norse!ii73

A pleasant music floats along the Mere,vii27

A Poet!—He hath put his heart to school,viii128

A point of life between my Parents’ dust,vii346

Arms and the Man I sing, the first who boreviii281

Army of Clouds! ye wingèd Host in troops,viii142

A Rock there is whose homely frontvii274

A Roman Master stands on Grecian ground,iv242

Around a wild and woody hillvi310

Arran! a single-crested Teneriffe,vii370

Art thou a Statist in the vanii75

Art thou the bird whom Man loves best,ii295

As faith thus sanctified the warrior’s crestvii42

A simple Child,i231

As indignation mastered grief, my tongue,viii85

As leaves are to the tree whereon they grow,viii87

A slumber did my spirit seal;ii83

As often as I murmur herevii265

As star that shines dependent upon starvii87

“As the cold aspect of a sunless way”vi191

A Stream, to mingle with your favourite Dee,vii129

A sudden conflict rises from the swellvii82

As, when a storm hath ceased, the birds regainvii9

As with the Stream our voyage we pursue,vii33

At early dawn, or rather when the airvi185

A Traveller on the skirt of Sarum’s Plaini79

A trouble, not of clouds, or weeping rain,vii284

At the corner of Wood Street, when daylight appears,i226

A twofold harmony is hereviii282

Avaunt all specious pliancy of mindiv247

Avaunt this œconomic rage!viii299

A voice, from long-expecting thousands sentvii79

A volant Tribe of Bards on earth are found,vii119

Avon—a precious, an immortal name!vii303

A weight of awe, not easy to be borne,vii390

A whirl-blast from behind the hilli238

A wingèd Goddess—clothed in vesture wroughtvi292

A Youth too certain of his power to wadevii362

Bard of the Fleece, whose skilful genius madeiv273

Beaumont! it was thy wish that I should reariii23

Before I see another day,i276

Before the world had past her time of youth,viii107

“Begone, thou fond presumptuous Elf,”ii170

Beguiled into forgetfulness of care,viii2

Behold an emblem of our human mind,viii188

Behold a pupil of the monkish gown,vii24

Behold her, single in the field,ii397

Behold, within the leafy shade,ii237

“Beloved Vale!” I said, “when I shall con”iv35

Beneath the concave of an April sky,vi138

Beneath these fruit-tree boughs that shedii367

Beneath yon eastern ridge, the craggy bound,iv80

Be this the chosen site; the virgin sod,vii103

Between two sister moorland rillsii96

Bishops and Priests, blessed are ye, if deepvii86

Black Demons hovering o’er his mitred head,vii34

Bleak season was it, turbulent and bleak,ii121

Blest is this Isle—our native Land;vii109

Blest Statesman He, whose Mind’s unselfish will,viii101

Bold words affirmed, in days when faith was strongvii359

Brave Schill! by death delivered, take thy flightiv226

Bright Flower! whose home is everywhere,ii360

Bright was the summer’s noon when quickening stepsiii186

Broken in fortune, but in mind entirevii365

Brook and roadii69

Brook, that hast been my solace days and weeks,viii265

Brook! whose society the Poet seeks,iv52

Brugès I saw attired with golden lightvi288

But Cytherea, studious to invent,viii277

But here no cannon thunders to the gale;vi262

But liberty, and triumphs on the Main,vii102

But, to outweigh all harm, the sacred Book,vii58

But, to remote Northumbria’s royal Hall,vii15

But what if One, through grove or flowery mead,vii21

But whence came they who for the Saviour Lordvii44

By a blest Husband guided, Mary came,viii35

By antique Fancy trimmed—though lowly, bredvi324

By Art’s bold privilege Warrior and War-Horse stand,viii118

By chain yet stronger must the Soul be tied:vii93

By playful smiles, (alas, too oft,viii120

By such examples moved to unbought pains,vii22

By their floating mill,iv18

By vain affections unenthralled,vii135

Call not the royal Swede unfortunate,iv227

Calm as an under-current, strong to draw,vii80

Calm is all nature as a resting wheeli4

Calm is the fragrant air, and loth to losevii317

Calvert! it must not be unheard by themiv44

“Change me, some God, into that breathing rose!”vi237

Chatsworth! thy stately mansion, and the pridevii273

Child of loud-throated War! the mountain Streamii401

Child of the clouds! remote from every taintvi231

Clarkson! it was an obstinate hill to climb:iv62

Closing the sacred Book which long has fedvii98

Clouds, lingering yet, extend in solid barsiv73

Coldly we spake. The Saxons, overpoweredvii29

Come, gentle Sleep, Death’s image tho’ thou art,viii264

Come ye—who, if (which Heaven avert!) the Landii437

Companion! by whose buoyant Spirit cheered,viii41

Complacent Fictions were they, yet the same,viii61

Confiding hopes of youthful hearts,viii297

Critics, right honourable Bard, decreeviii272

Dark and more dark the shades of evening fell;ii349

Darkness surrounds us: seeking, we are lostvii7

Days passed—and Monte Calvo would not clear,viii64

Days undefiled by luxury or sloth,viii179

Dear be the Church, that, watching o’er the needsvii89

Dear Child of Nature, let them rail!ii366

Dear Fellow-travellers! think not that the Muse,vi285

Dear native regions, I foretell,i2

Dear Reliques! from a pit of vilest mouldvi114

Dear to the Loves, and to the Graces vowed,vii350

Deep is the lamentation! Not alonevii56

Degenerate Douglas! oh, the unworthy Lord!ii410

Deign, Sovereign Mistress, to accept a lay,viii319

Departed Child! I could forget thee onceiv249

Departing summer hath assumedvi202

Deplorable his lot who tills the ground,vii38

Desire we past illusions to recal?vvii360

Desponding Father! mark this altered boughviii31

Despond who will—I heard a voice exclaim,vii368

Destined to war from very infancyiv234

Did pangs of grief for lenient time too keen,vii363

Discourse was deemed Man’s noblest attribute,viii184

Dishonoured Rock and Ruin! that, by law,vii292

Dogmatic Teachers, of the snow-white fur!vi208

Doomed as we are our native dustvi312

Doubling and doubling with laborious walk,vii295

Down a swift Stream, thus far, a bold designvii83

Dread hour! when, upheaved by war’s sulphurous blast,vi329

Driven in by Autumn’s sharpening airvii410

Earth has not any thing to show more fair:ii328

Eden! till now thy beauty had I viewedvii385

Emperors and Kings, how oft have temples rungvi113

England! the time is come when thou should’st weanii433

Enlightened Teacher, gladly from thy handviii162

Enough! for see, with dim associationvii44

Enough of climbing toil!—Ambition treadsvi149

Enough of garlands, of the Arcadian crook,vii294

Enough of rose-bud lips, and eyesvii239

Ere the Brothers through the gatewayiv12

Erewhile to celebrate this glorious mornvi195

Ere with cold beads of midnight dewvii145

Ere yet our course was graced with social treesvi235

Eternal Lord! eased of a cumbrous load,viii81

Ethereal minstrel! pilgrim of the sky!vii143

Even as a dragon’s eye that feels the stressvi69

Even as a river,—partly (it might seem)iii293

Even so for me a Vision sanctifiedviii37

Even such the contrast that, where’er we move,vii71

Even while I speak, the sacred roofs of Francevii101

Excuse is needless when with love sincerevii162

Failing impartial measure to dispenseviii99

Fair Ellen Irwin, when she sateii124

Fair is the Swan, whose majesty, prevailingvi116

Fair Lady! can I sing of flowersviii177

Fair Land! Thee all men greet with joy; bow few,viii84

Fair Prime of life! were it enough to gildvii165

Fair Star of evening, Splendour of the west,ii330

Fallen, and diffused into a shapeless heap,vi256

Fame tells of groves—from England far away—vi214

Fancy, who leads the pastimes of the glad,vii178

“Farewell, deep Valley, with thy one rude House,”v196

Farewell, thou little Nook of mountain-ground,ii324

Far from my dearest Friend, ’tis mine to rovei6

Far from our home by Grasmere’s quiet Lake,iv259

Father! to God himself we cannot givevii90

Fear hath a hundred eyes that all agreevii69

Feel for the wrongs to universal kenviii129

Festivals have I seen that were not names:ii334

Fit retribution, by the moral codeviii108

Five years have past; five summers, with the lengthii51

Flattered with promise of escapevii229

Fly, some kind Harbinger, to Grasmere-dale!ii419

Fond words have oft been spoken to thee, Sleep!iv43

For action born, existing to be tried,viii67

Forbear to deem the Chronicler unwise,viii61

For ever hallowed be this morning fair,vii15

For gentlest uses, oft-times Nature takesvi316

Forgive, illustrious Country! these deep sighs,viii65

Forth from a jutting ridge, around whose baseviii170

For thirst of power that Heaven disowns,viii320

Forth rushed from Envy sprung and Self-conceit,viii304

For what contend the wise?—for nothing lessvii58

Four fiery steeds impatient of the reinviii32

From Bolton’s old monastic toweriv106

From early youth I ploughed the restless Main,vii364

From false assumption rose, and fondly hail’dvii36

From Little down to Least, in due degree,vii91

From low to high doth dissolution climb,vii100

From Nature doth emotion come, and moodsiii355

From Rite and Ordinance abused they fledvii85

From Stirling castle we had seenii411

From that time forth, Authority in Franceiii330

From the Baptismal hour, thro’ weal and woe,vii97

From the dark chambers of dejection freed,vi34

From the fierce aspect of this River, throwingvi308

From the Pier’s head, musing, and with increasevi381

From this deep chasm, where quivering sunbeams playvi245

Frowns are on every Muse’s face,vii157

Furl we the sails, and pass with tardy oarsvii41

Genius of Raphael! if thy wingsvii195

Giordano, verily thy Pencil’s skillviii183

Glad sight wherever new with oldviii154

Glide gently, thus for ever glide,i33

Glory to God! and to the Power who camevii107

Go back to antique ages, if thine eyesvii174

Go, faithful Portrait! and where long hath kneltvii318

Grant, that by this unsparing hurricanevii57

Grateful is Sleep, my life, in stone bound fast,viii264

Great men have been among us; hands that pennedii346

Greta, what fearful listening! when huge stonesvii344

Grief, thou hast lost an ever-ready friendvi196

Grieve for the Man who hither came bereft,viii72

Had this effulgence disappearedvi177

Hail, orient Conqueror of gloomy Night!vi78

Hail to the crown by Freedom shaped—to girdv235

Hail to the fields—with Dwellings sprinkled o’ervi243

Hail, Twilight, sovereign of one peaceful hour!vi67

Hail, Virgin Queen! o’er many an envious barvii65

Hail, Zaragoza! If with unwet eyeiv224

Happy the feeling from the bosom thrownvii159

Hard task! exclaim the undisciplined, to leanviii86

Hark! ’tis the Thrush, undaunted, undeprest,viii93

Harmonious Powers with Nature workviii125

Harp! could’st thou venture, on thy boldest stringvii72

Hast thou seen, with flash incessant,vi174

Hast thou then survived—iii14

Haydon! let worthier judges praise the skillvii277

Here closed the Tenant of that lonely valev145

Here Man more purely lives, less oft doth fall,vii37

Here, on our native soil, we breathe once moreii341

Here on their knees men swore; the stones were black,vii381

Here pause: the poet claims at least this praise,iv255

Here stood an Oak, that long had borne affixedvii305

Here, where, of havoc tired and rash undoing,viii168

Her eyes are wild, her head is bare,i258

Her only pilot the soft breeze, the boatvii160

“High bliss is only for a higher state,”vii156

High deeds, O Germans, are to come from you!iv59

High in the breathless Hall the Minstrel sate,iv83

High is our calling, Friend!—Creative Artvi61

High on a broad unfertile tract of forest-skirted Down,viii133

High on her speculative towervi345

His simple truths did Andrew gleanii174

Holy and heavenly Spirits as they are,vii67

Homeward we turn. Isle of Columba’s Cell,vii382

Hope rules a land for ever green:vii190

Hope smiled when your nativity was cast,vii378

Hopes, what are they?—Beads of morningvi170

How art thou named? In search of what strange land,vii129

How beautiful the Queen of Night, on highviii188

How beautiful, when up a lofty heightviii90

How beautiful your presence, how benign,vii19

How blest the Maid whose heart—yet freevi351

How clear, how keen, how marvellously brightvi63

“How disappeared he?” Ask the newt and toad;vii297

How fast the Marian death-list is unrolled!vii61

How profitless the relics that we cull,vii308

How richly glows the water’s breasti32

How rich that forehead’s calm expanse!vii123

How sad a welcome! To each voyagervii380

How shall I paint thee?—Be this naked stone,vi232

How soon—alas! did Man, created pure—vii35

How sweet it is, when mother Fancy rocksiv36

Humanity, delighting to beholdvi107

Hunger, and sultry heat, and nipping blastiv248

I am not One who much or oft delightiv31

I come, ye little noisy Crew,ii84

I dropped my pen; and listened to the Windiv211

I find it written of Simonides,viii258

If from the public way you turn your stepsii215

If Life were slumber on a bed of down,vii351

If money’s slack,viii271

If Nature, for a favourite child,ii88

If there be prophets on whose spirits restvii5

If these brief Records, by the Muses’ artvii177

If the whole weight of what we think and feel,vii165

If this great world of joy and painvii336

If thou indeed derive thy light from Heaven,vii175

If thou in the dear love of some one Friendii210

If to Tradition faith be duevii311

If with old love of you, dear Hills! I shareviii95

I grieved for Buonaparté, with a vainii323

I hate that Andrew Jones; he’ll breedviii221

I have a boy of five years old;i234

I heard (alas! ’twas only in a dream)vi198

I heard a thousand blended notes,i269

I know an aged Man constrained to dwellviii186

I listen—but no faculty of mine,vi326

Imagination—ne’er before content,vi88

I marvel how Nature could ever find spaceii208

I met Louisa in the shade,ii362

Immured in Bothwell’s Towers, at times the Bravevii299

In Brugès town is many a streetvii198

In days of yore how fortunately faredv67

In desultory walk through orchard grounds,viii123

In distant countries have I been,i279

In due observance of an ancient rite,iv241

Inland, within a hollow vale, I stood;ii343

Inmate of a mountain-dwelling,vi135

In my mind’s eye a Temple, like a cloudvii173

In one of those excursions (may they ne’eriii367

Intent on gathering wool from hedge and brakeviii122

In these fair vales hath many a Treevii269

In the sweet shire of Cardigan,i262

In this still place, remote from men,ii393

In trellised shed with clustering roses gay,iv102

Intrepid sons of Albion! not by youvi111

In youth from rock to rock I went,ii353

I rose while yet the cattle, heat-opprest,vi257

I saw a Mother’s eye intensely bentvii92

I saw an aged Beggar in my walk;i300

I saw far off the dark top of a Pine,viii58

I saw the figure of a lovely Maidvii74

Is Death, when evil against good has fought,viii106

I shiver, Spirit fierce and bold,ii379

Is it a reed that’s shaken by the wind,ii331

Is then no nook of English ground secure,viii166

Is then the final page before me spread,vi382

Is there a power that can sustain and cheeriv228

Is this, ye Gods, the Capitolian Hill,viii59

I thought of Thee, my partner and my guide,vi263

It is a beauteous evening, calm and free,ii335

It is no Spirit who from heaven hath flown,ii376

It is not to be thought of that the Floodii347

It is the first mild day of March:i271

I travelled among unknown men,ii80

It seems a dayii70

It was a beautiful and silent dayiii311

It was a dreary morning when the wheelsiii168

It was a moral end for which they fought;iv217

It was an April morning: fresh and clearii154

I’ve watched you now a full half-hour,ii297

I wandered lonely as a cloudiii4

I was thy neighbour once, thou rugged Pile!iii54

I watch, and long have watched, with calm regretvi197

I, who accompanied with faithful pacevii4

I, whose pretty Voice you hear,viii295

I will relate a tale for those who loveviii224

Jesu! bless our slender Boat,vi301

Jones! I as from Calais southward you and Iii332

Just as those final words were penned, the sun broke out in power,viii135

Keep for the Young the Impassioned smilevi218

Lady! a Pen (perhaps with thy regard,viii8

Lady! I rifled a Parnassian cavevi211

Lady! the songs of Spring were in the groveiv58

Lament! for Diocletian’s fiery swordvii8

Lance, shield, and sword relinquished—at his sidevii20

Last night, without a voice, that Vision spakevii74

Let other bards of angels sing,vii121

Let thy wheel-barrow aloneii95

Let us quit the leafy arbour,vi153

Lie here, without a record of thy worth,iii50

Life with yon Lambs, like day, is just begun,viii97

Like a shipwreck’d Sailor tostvii328

List, the winds of March are blowing;vii331

List—’twas the Cuckoo.—O with what delight,viii68

List, ye who pass by Lyulph’s Towervii394

Lo! in the burning west, the craggy napevi377

Lone Flower, hemmed in with snows and white as theyvi191

Long-favoured England! be not thou misled,viii131

Long has the dew been dried on tree and lawn,viii63

Long time have human ignorance and guiltiii345

Lonsdale! it were unworthy of a Guest,vii392

Look at the fate of summer flowers,vii124

Look now on that Adventurer who hath paidiv228

Lord of the vale! astounding Flood;vi26

Loud is the Vale! the Voice is upiv47

Loving she is, and tractable, though wild;iv252

Lo! where she stands fixed in a saint-like trance,viii132

Lo! where the Moon along the sky,viii88

Lowther! in thy majestic Pile are seenvii392

Lulled by the sound of pastoral bells,vi372

Lyre! though such power do in thy magic live,viii147

“Man’s life is like a Sparrow, mighty King!”vii16

Mark how the feathered tenants of the flood,iv278

Mark the concentred hazels that enclosevi71

Meek Virgin Mother, more benignvi318

Men of the Western World! in Fate’s dark book,viii112

Men, who have ceased to reverence, soon defyvii68

Mercy and Love have met thee on thy road,vii7

Methinks that I could trip o’er heaviest soil,vii66

Methinks that to some vacant hermitagevii21

Methinks ’twere no unprecedented featvi255

Methought I saw the footsteps of a throneiv46

’Mid crowded obelisks and urnsii387

Mid-noon is past;—upon the sultry meadvi254

Milton! thou should’st be living at this hour:ii346

Mine ear has wrung, my spirit sunk subdued,vii104

“Miserrimus!” and neither name nor date,vii201

Monastic Domes! following my downward way,vii100

Most sweet it is with unuplifted eyesvii401

Mother! whose virgin bosom was uncrost,vii54

Motions and Means, on land and sea at war,vii389

My frame hath often trembled with delightvi250

My heart leaps up when I beholdii292

My Lord and Lady Darlingtonviii298

My Son! behold the tide already spent,viii273

Nay, Traveller! rest. This lonely Yew-tree standsi109

Near Anio’s stream, I spied a gentle Dove,viii65

Never enlivened with the liveliest ray,viii150

Next morning Troilus began to clearii264

No fiction was it of the antique age:vi241

No more: the end is sudden and abrupt,vii309

No mortal object did these eyes beholdiii381

No record tells of lance opposed to lance,vi258

Nor scorn the aid which Fancy oft doth lendvii18

Nor shall the eternal roll of praise rejectvii78

Nor wants the cause the panic-striking aidvii12

Not a breath of air,viii146

Not envying Latian shades—if yet they throwvi230

Not hurled precipitous from steep to steep;vi261

Not in the lucid intervals of lifevii402

Not in the mines beyond the western main,vii400

Not, like his great Compeers, indignantlyvi303

Not Love, not War, nor the tumultuous swellvii118

Not ’mid the World’s vain objects that enslaveiv210

Not sedentary all: there are who roamvii23

Not seldom, clad in radiant vest,vi175

Not so that Pair whose youthful spirits dancevi240

Not the whole warbling grove in concert heardvii169

Not to the clouds, not to the cliff, he flew;vii372

Not to the object specially designed,viii106

Not utterly unworthy to endurevii55

Not without heavy grief of heart did Heiv236

No whimsey of the purse is here,viii259

Now that all hearts are glad, all faces bright,iv282

Now that the farewell tear is dried,vi338

Now we are tired of boisterous joy,ii420

Now when the primrose makes a splendid show,viii116

Nuns fret not at their convent’s narrow room;iv28

Oak of Guernica! Tree of holier poweriv245

O blithe New-comer! I have heard,ii289

O dearer far than light and life are dear,vii122

O’er the wide earth, on mountain and on plain,iv223

O’erweening Statesmen have full long reliediv247

O Flower of all that springs from gentle blood,iv235

Of mortal parents is the Hero borniv214

O for a dirge! But why complain?vii132

O, for a kindling touch from that pure flame,vi110

O for the help of Angels to completevi297

O Friend! I know not which way I must lookii345

Oft have I caught, upon a fitful breeze,vii373

Oft have I seen, ere Time had ploughed my cheek,vii163

Oft I had heard of Lucy Gray:ii99

Oft is the medal faithful to its trustiv77

Oft, through thy fair domains, illustrious Peer!v20

O gentle Sleep! do they belong to thee,iv42

O happy time of youthful lovers (thusiii24

Oh Bounty without measure, while the Graceviii308

Oh Life! without thy chequered scenevi315

Oh! pleasant exercise of hope and joy!iii35

Oh what a Wreck! how changed in mien and speech,viii36

Oh! what’s the matter? what’s the matter?i254

“O Lord, our Lord! how wondrously,” (quoth she)ii240

O Moon! if e’er I joyed when thy soft lightviii235

O mountain Stream! the Shepherd and his Cotvi245

Once did She hold the gorgeous east in fee;ii336

Once I could hail (howe’er serene the sky)vii152

Once in a lonely hamlet I sojournedii285

Once more the Church is seized with sudden fear,vii49

Once on the top of Tynwald’s formal moundvii366

Once to the verge of yon steep barrier cameviii236

One might believe that natural miseriesii431

One morning (raw it was and wet—ii270

One who was suffering tumult in his soulvi187

On his morning rounds the Masteriii48

O Nightingale! thou surely artiv67

On, loitering Muse—the swift Stream chides us—on!vi242

“On Man, on Nature, and on Human Life,”v23

On Nature’s invitation do I come,ii118

O now that the genius of Bewick were mine,ii60

On to Iona!—What can she affordvii379

Open your gates, ye everlasting Piles!vii105

O there is blessing in this gentle breeze,iii132

O thou who movest onward with a mindiv231

O thou! whose fancies from afar are brought;ii351

Our bodily life, some plead, that life the shrine,viii109

Our walk was far among the ancient trees:ii167

Outstretching flame-ward his upbraided handvii62

Pansies, lilies, kingcups, daisies,ii301

Part fenced by man, part by a rugged steepvii286

Pastor and Patriot!—at whose bidding risevii349

Patriots informed with Apostolic lightvii85

Pause, courteous Spirit!—Balbi supplicatesiv237

Pause, Traveller! whosoe’er thou bevi173

Peaceful our valley, fair and green;viii259

Pelion and Ossa flourish side by side,ii238

“People! your chains are severing link by link;”vii290

Perhaps some needful service of the Stateiv230

Pleasures newly found are sweetii303

Portentous change when History can appear,viii130

Praised be the Art whose subtle power could stayiv272

Praised be the Rivers, from their mountain springsvii45

Prejudged by foes determined not to spare,vii71

Presentiments! they judge not rightvii266

Prompt transformation works the novel Lore;vii17

Proud were ye, Mountains, when, in times of old,viii167

Pure element of waters! wheresoe’ervi184

Queen of the Stars!—so gentle, so benign,viii15

Ranging the heights of Scawfell or Black-Comb,vii358

Rapt above earth by power of one fair face,viii81

Realms quake by turns: proud Arbitress of grace,vii32

Record we too, with just and faithful pen,vii39

Redoubted King, of courage leonine,vii31

Reluctant call it was; the rite delayed;vii323

“Rest, rest, perturbèd Earth!”vi95

Return, Content! for fondly I pursued,vi255

Rid of a vexing and a heavy load,viii265

Rise!—they have risen: of brave Aneurin askvii11

Rotha, my Spiritual Child! this head was greyvii171

Rude is this Edifice, and Thou hast seenii213

Sacred Religion! “mother of form and fear,”vi249

Sad thoughts, avaunt!—partake we their blithe cheervi253

Said red-ribboned Evans:viii302

Said Secrecy to Cowardice and Fraud,viii304

Say, what is Honour?—’Tis the finest senseiv225

Say, ye far-travelled clouds, far-seeing hills—vii287

Scattering, like birds escaped the fowler’s net,vii64

Scorn not the Sonnet; Critic, you have frowned,vii163

Screams round the Arch-druid’s brow the seamew—whitevii6

Seek who will delight in fable,viii172

See the Condemned alone within his cell,viii110

See what gay wild flowers deck this earth-built Cot,vii296

See, where his difficult way that Old Man wins,viii83

Serene, and fitted to embrace,vi117

Serving no haughty Muse, my hands have here,viii102

Seven Daughters had Lord Archibald,ii204

Shade of Caractacus, if spirits love,viii309

Shall he who gives his days to low pursuitsviii257

Shame on this faithless heart! that could allowvi214

She dwelt among the untrodden waysii79

She had a tall man’s height or more;ii278

She was a Phantom of delightiii2

She wept.—Life’s purple tide began to flowviii209

Shout, for a mighty Victory is won!ii436

Show me the noblest Youth of present time,vii181

Shun not this rite, neglected, yea abhorred,vii96

Since risen from ocean, ocean to defy,vii369

Six changeful years have vanished since I firstiii247

Six months to six years added he remained,viii39

Six thousand veterans practised in war’s game,ii435

Small service is true service while it lasts,viii8

Smile of the Moon!—for so I namevi163

So fair, so sweet, withal so sensitive,viii164

Soft as a cloud is yon blue Ridge—the Merevii405

Sole listener, Duddon! to the breeze that playedvi234

Son of my buried Son, while thus thy hand,viii305

Soon did the Almighty Giver of all restiv267

Spade! with which Wilkinson hath tilled his lands,iv3

Stay, bold Adventurer; rest awhile thy limbsiv281

Stay, little cheerful Robin! stay,viii38

Stay near me—do not take thy flight!ii283

Stern Daughter of the Voice of God!iii38

Strange fits of passion have I known:ii78

Stranger! this hillock of mis-shapen stonesii63

Stretched on the dying Mother’s lap, lies deadvii387

Such age how beautiful! O Lady bright,vii172

Such fruitless questions may not long beguilevi246

Surprised by joy—impatient as the Windvi72

Sweet Flower, belike one day to haveiii51

Sweet Highland Girl, a very showerii390

“Sweet is the holiness of Youth”—so feltvii59

Sweet was the walk along the narrow lane,viii215

Swiftly turn the murmuring wheel!iv275

Sylph was it? or a Bird more brightvii319

Take, cradled Nursling of the mountain, takevi233

Tax not the royal Saint with vain expense,vii106

Tell me, ye Zephyrs! that unfold,vii125

Tenderly do we feel by Nature’s law,viii104

Thanks for the lessons of this Spot—fit schoolvii377

That happy gleam of vernal eyes,vii202

That heresies should strike (if truth be scannedvii10

That is work of waste and ruin—ii298

That way look, my Infant, lo!iii16

The Baptist might have been ordained to cry,viii80

The Bard—whose soul is meek as dawning day,vi112

The captive Bird was gone;—to cliff or moorvii371

The cattle crowding round this beverage clearvii348

The Cock is crowing,ii293

The confidence of Youth our only Art,viii273

The Crescent-moon, the Star of Love,viii127

The Danish Conqueror, on his royal chair,vi130

The days are cold, the nights are long,iii74

The dew was falling fast, the stars began to blink;ii143

The doubt to which a wavering hope had clungviii289

The embowering rose, the acacia, and the pine,iv74

The encircling ground, in native turf arrayed,vii104

The fairest, brightest, hues of ether fade;vi66

The feudal Keep, the bastions of Cohorn,vii360

The fields which with covetous spirit we sold,iii12

The floods are roused, and will not soon be weary;vii388

The forest huge of ancient Caledonvii304

The formal World relaxes her cold chain,viii112

The gallant Youth, who may have gained,vii281

The gentlest Poet, with free thoughts endowed,viii141

The gentlest Shade that walked Elysian plainsii378

The glory of evening was spread through the west;viii217

The God of Love—ah, benedicite!ii250

The imperial Consort of the Fairy-kingvi189

The imperial Stature, the colossal stride,vii166

The Kirk of Ulpha to the pilgrim’s eyevi260

The Knight had ridden down from Wensley Moorii129

The Lake is thine,viii263

The Land we from our fathers had in trust,iv215

The leaves that rustled on this oak-crowned hill,vii407

The leaves were fading when to Esthwaite’s banksiii222

The linnet’s warble, sinking towards a close,vii403

The little hedgerow birds,i307

The lovely Nun (submissive, but more meekvii52

The Lovers took within this ancient grovevii306

The martial courage of a day is vain,iv217

The massy Ways, carried across these heightsvii154

The Minstrels played their Christmas tunevi227

The most alluring clouds that mount the sky,viii128

The old inventive Poets, had they seen,vi251

The oppression of the tumult—wrath and scorn—vii13

The order’d troopsviii234

The peace which others seek they find;iii11

The pensive Sceptic of the lonely valev327

The pibroch’s note, discountenanced or mute;vii290

The post-boy drove with fierce career,ii273

The power of Armies is a visible thing,iv254

The prayers I make will then be sweet indeediii382

The rains at length have ceas’d, the winds are still’d,viii233

There are no colours in the fairest skyvii77

There is a bondage worse, far worse, to bearii431

There is a change—and I am poor;iv17

There is a Flower, the lesser Celandine,iii21

There is a little unpretending Rilliv53

There is an Eminence,—of these our hillsii162

There is a pleasure in poetic painsvii166

There is a shapeless crowd of unhewn stonesviii223

There is a Thorn—it looks so old,i242

There is a Yew-tree, pride of Lorton Vale,ii370

There never breathed a man who, when his lifeiv232

“There!” said a Stripling, pointing with meet pridevii384

There’s George Fisher, Charles Fleming, and Reginald Shore,ii207

There’s more in words than I can teach:vii321

There’s not a nook within this solemn Pass,vii289

There’s something in a flying horse,ii3

There was a Boy; ye knew him well, ye cliffsii57

There was a roaring in the wind all night;ii314

There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,viii190

The Roman Consul doomed his sons to die,viii105

The Sabbath bells renew the inviting peal;vii96

The saintly Youth has ceased to rule, discrownedvii61

The Scottish Broom on Bird-nest braeviii270

These times strike monied worldlings with dismay:ii432

These Tourists, heaven preserve us! needs must liveii184

These vales were saddened with no common gloomviii275

The Sheep-boy whistled loud, and lo!iii58

The Shepherd, looking eastward, softly said,vi68

The sky is overcasti227

The snow-tracks of my friends I see,viii219

The soaring lark is blest as proudvii214

The Spirit of Antiquity—enshrinedvi290

The stars are mansions built by Nature’s hand,vi210

The star which comes at close of day to shine,viii307

The struggling Rill insensibly is grownvi239

The sun has long been set,ii327

The sun is couched, the sea-fowl gone to rest;vii338

The Sun, that seemed so mildly to retire,vii337

The sylvan slopes with corn-clad fieldsvi201

The tears of man in various measure gushvii60

The Troop will be impatient; let us hiei114

The turbaned Race are poured in thickening swarmsvii31

The unremitting voice of nightly streams,viii187

The valley rings with mirth and joy;ii138

The vestal priestess of a sisterhood who knowsviii325

The Vested Priest before the Altar stands;vii94

The Virgin Mountain, wearing like a Queenvii70

The Voice of song from distant lands shall callii338

The wind is now thy organist;—a clankvii288

The woman-hearted Confessor preparesvii28

The world forsaken, all its busy cares,viii73

The world is too much with us; late and soon,iv39

The worship of this Sabbath morn,viii326

They called Thee Merry England, in old time;vii343

They call it Love lies bleeding! rather say,viii150

They dreamt not of a perishable homevii107

The Young-ones gathered in from hill and dale,vii92

They seek, are sought; to daily battle led,iv253

They—who have seen the noble Roman’s scorn,viii62

This Height a ministering Angel might select:iv271

“This Land of Rainbows spanning glens whose walls,”vii299

This Lawn, a carpet all alivevii228

This Spot—at once unfolding sight so fair,viii103

Those breathing Tokens of your kind regard,vii217

Those had given earliest notice, as the larkvii46

Those old credulities, to nature dear,viii60

Those silver clouds collected round the sunvi199

Those words were uttered as in pensive moodiv37

Though I beheld at first with blank surpriseviii115

Though joy attend Thee orient at the birthvii299

Though many suns have risen and setvii148

Though narrow be that old Man’s cares, and near,iv69

Tho’ searching damps and many an envious flawvi343

Though the bold wings of Poesy affectviii154

Though the torrents from their fountainsii182

Though to give timely warning and deterviii109

“Thou look’st upon me, and dost fondly think,”vii347

Thou sacred Pile! whose turrets risevi333

Threats come which no submission may assuage,vii52

Three years she grew in sun and shower,ii81

Throned in the Sun’s descending Carviii300

Through Cumbrian wilds, in many a mountain cove,viii272

Through shattered galleries, ’mid roofless halls,vii131

Thus all things lead to Charity, securedvii102

Thus far, O Friend! have we, though leaving muchiii153

Thus is the storm abated by the craftvii48

Thy functions are ethereal,vii204

’Tis eight o’clock,—a clear March night,i283

’Tis gone—with old belief and dreamvii192

’Tis He whose yester-evening’s high disdainviii94

’Tis not for the unfeeling, the falsely refined,ii147

’Tis said, fantastic ocean doth enfoldvi286

’Tis said, that some have died for love:ii178

’Tis said that to the brow of yon fair hillvii230

’Tis spent—this burning day of June!iii76

To a good Man of most dear memoryviii18

To appease the Gods; or public thanks to yield;vi363

To barren heath, bleak moor, and quaking fen,vi16

“To every Form of being is assigned,”v353

To kneeling Worshippers no earthly floorvii97

Too frail to keep the lofty vowii383

To public notice, with reluctance strong,vi40

Toussaint, the most unhappy man of men!ii339

Tradition, be thou mute! Oblivion, throwvii293

Tranquillity! the sovereign aim wert thouvii387

Troubled long with warring notionsvi175

True is it that Ambrosio Salineroiv233

’Twas summer, and the sun had mounted high:v26

Two Voices are there; one is of the sea,iv61

Under the shadow of a stately Pile,viii78

Ungrateful Country, if thou e’er forgetvii81

Unless to Peter’s Chair the viewless windvii34

Unquiet Childhood here by special gracevii170

Untouched through all severity of cold;vii231

“Up, Timothy, up with your staff and away!”ii181

Up to the throne of God is bornevii408

Up! up! my Friend, and quit your books;i274

Up with me! up with me into the clouds!iii42

Urged by Ambition, who with subtlest skillvii26

Uttered by whom, or how inspired—designedvi306

Vallombrosa! I longed in thy shadiest woodvi357

“Vallombrosa—I longed in thy shadiest wood”viii76

Vanguard of Liberty, ye men of Kent,ii434

“Wait, prithee, wait!” this answer Lesbia threwviii32

Wanderer! that stoop’st so low, and com’st so nearviii13

Wansfell! this Household has a favoured lot,viii153

Ward of the Law!—dread Shadow of a King!vi209

Was it to disenchant, and to undo,vi295

Was the aim frustrated by force or guile,vi184

Watch, and be firm! for, soul-subduing vice,vii10

“Weak is the will of Man, his judgment blind;”vi67

We can endure that He should waste our lands,iv246

Weep not, belovèd Friends! nor let the airiv230

We gaze—nor grieve to think that we must die,viii306

We had a female Passenger who cameii342

We have not passed into a doleful City,vii383

Well have yon Railway Labourers to THIS groundviii176

Well may’st thou halt—and gaze with brightening eye!iv34

Well sang the Bard who called the grave, in strainsvii295

Well worthy to be magnified are theyvii84

Were there, below, a spot of holy groundi37

Were there, below, a spot of holy ground,i310

We saw, but surely, in the motley crowd,vii376

We talked with open heart, and tongueii91

We walked along, while bright and redii89

What aim had they, the Pair of Monks, in sizeviii74

What aspect bore the Man who roved or fled,vi237

What awful pérspective! while from our sightvii106

“What beast in wilderness or cultured field”vii47

What beast of chase hath broken from the cover?vi360

What crowd is this? what have we here! we must not pass it byiv22

What heavenly smiles! O Lady mineviii177

What He—who, mid the kindred throngvi29

What if our numbers barely could defyviii87

“What is good for a bootless bene?”iv205

“What know we of the Blest above”vi315

What lovelier home could gentle Fancy choose?vi294

What mischief cleaves to unsubdued regret,vii340

What need of clamorous bells, or ribands gay,iv276

What sounds are those, Helvellyn, that are heardiii270

What strong allurement draws, what spirit guides,viii92

What though the Accused, upon his own appealvii223

What though the Italian pencil wrought not here,vi321

What way does the Wind come? What way does he go?iv50

“What, you are stepping westward?”—“Yea.”ii396

When Alpine Vales threw forth a suppliant cry,vii79

Whence that low voice?—A whisper from the heart,vi252

When Contemplation, like the night-calm feltiii201

When, far and wide, swift as the beams of morniv244

When first descending from the moorlands,viii27

When haughty expectations prostrate lie,vi192

When here with Carthage Rome to conflict came,viii66

When human touch (as monkish books attest),viii34

When I have borne in memory what has tamedii348

When in the antique age of bow and spearvii115

When, looking on the present face of things,ii433

When Love was born of heavenly line,viii216

When Philoctetes in the Lemnian islevii167

When Ruth was left half desolate,ii104

When Severn’s sweeping flood had overthrown,viii314

When the soft hand of sleep had closed the latchvi97

When thy great soul was freed from mortal chains,vii25

When, to the attractions of the busy world,iii66

When years of wedded life were as a dayvi43

Where are they now, those wanton Boys?ii281

Where art thou, my beloved Son,iii7

Where be the noisy followers of the gamevi380

Where be the temples which, in Britain’s Isle,vi45

Where holy ground begins, unhallowed ends,vi217

Where lies the Land to which yon Ship must go?iv41

Where lies the truth? has Man, in wisdom’s creed,viii182

Where long and deeply hath been fixed the rootvii43

Where towers are crushed, and unforbidden weedsvii137

Where will they stop, those breathing Powers,vii314

While Anna’s peers and early playmates tread,vii169

While beams of orient light shoot wide and high,viii156

While flowing rivers yield a blameless sport,vi190

While from the purpling east departsvii146

While Merlin paced the Cornish sands,vii252

While not a leaf seems faded; while the fields,vi65

While poring Antiquarians search the ground,viii33

While the Poor gather round, till the end of timevii307

While thus from theme to theme the Historian passed,v283

“Who but hails the sight with pleasure”vi156

Who but is pleased to watch the moon on high,viii184

Who comes—with rapture greeted, and caress’dvii75

Who fancied what a pretty sightii374

Who is the happy Warrior? Who is heiv8

Who ponders National events shall find,viii131

Who rashly strove thy Image to portray,viii29

Who rises on the banks of Seine,vi104

Who swerves from innocence, who makes divorcevi260

Who weeps for strangers? Many wept,viii267

Why art thou silent! Is thy love a plant,viii12

Why cast ye back upon the Gallic shore,vi378

“Why, Minstrel, these untuneful murmurings—”vii161

Why should the Enthusiast, journeying through this Isle,vii343

Why should we weep or mourn, Angelic boy,viii181

Why sleeps the future, as a snake enrolled,vii108

Why stand we gazing on the sparkling Brine,vii361

“Why, William, on that old grey stone,”i272

Wild Redbreast! hadst thou at Jemima’s lipvii176

Wisdom and Spirit of the universe!ii66

With copious eulogy in prose or rhymevii270

With each recurrence of this glorious mornvi194

With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb’st the sky,iv38

Within her gilded cage confined,vii142

Within our happy Castle there dwelt Oneii306

Within the mind strong fancies work,vi158

With little here to do or seeii358

“With sacrifice before the rising morn”vi2

With Ships the sea was sprinkled far and nigh,iv40

Witness thou,viii234

Woe to the Crown that doth the Cowl obey!vii27

“Woe to you, Prelates! rioting in ease”vii49

Woman! the Power who left his throne on high,vii95

Wouldst thou be gathered to Christ’s chosen flock,viii303

Wouldst thou be taught, when sleep has taken flight,viii151

Would that our scrupulous Sires had dared to leavevii99

Ye Apennines! with all your fertile vales,viii45

Ye brood of conscience—Spectres! that frequent,viii107

Ye Lime-trees, ranged before this hallowed Urn,iv78

Ye sacred Nurseries of blooming Youth!vi213

Ye shadowy Beings, that have rights and claimsvii377

Yes! hope may with my strong desire keep pace,iii381

Yes, if the intensities of hope and fearvii88

Yes, it was the mountain Echo,iv25

Yes! thou art fair, yet be not moved,viii176

Yes, though He well may tremble at the sound,viii111

Ye Storms, resound the praises of your King!vi109

Yet are they here the same unbroken knotiv65

Yet many a Novice of the cloistral shade,vii53

Yet more,—round many a Convent’s blazing firevii51

Ye, too, must fly before a chasing hand,vii54

Ye torrents, foaming down the rocky steeps,viii161

Ye Trees! whose slender roots entwine,viii82

Yet Truth is keenly sought for, and the windvii76

Yet, yet, Biscayans! we must meet our Foesiv242

Ye vales and hills whose beauty hither drew,viii157

You call it, “Love lies bleeding,”—so you may,viii149

You have heard “a Spanish Lady”vii232

Young England—what is then become of Old,viii180

You’re here for one long vernal day;viii284

END OF VOL. VIII

Printed by R. & R. Clark, Limited, Edinburgh.