Soi^fJSTS ar THE GNGLISH LqKSS H-D-l\aWhIsLe/ Word %vJ i) . -/ CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY THE WORDSWORTH COLLECTION FOUNDED BY CYNTHIA MORGAN ST. JOHN THE GIFT OF VICTOR EMANUEL OF THE CLASS OF IQIQ N SON NETS AT THE ENGLI SH LAKES BY HARDWICKE D. RAWNSLEY BALLIOL COLL., OXFORD LONDON LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO. 1881 1) 4 ■j^^ /\ ^ 2 Ip'^ (p H 1 i \h 11 n- CHARLES TENNYSON TURNER, THESE SONNETS, WITH ALL AFFECTION, ARE HUMBLY DEDICATED. r«^: i^. Cornell University Library The original of tiiis book is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924104104298 PREFATORY NOTE, JAMES SPEDDING has said, that ^^to appreciate a collection of Sonnets, they should be read one by one, with intervals between long enough to let the hupression of each get out of the other's way." To claim appreciation, or any length of interval as necessary to effect this, for these Sonnets would be arrogance, and to suggest the chance of their being read through might incur the charge of presumption ; but the Writer feels that Spedding's caution is worthy of remem- brance, and deprecates the reading, collectively, of Poems that ask the interruptions of a mountain walk. A 2 C O N 1^ E N 1^ S . Introductory .... * * PAGE xi. r 1 .- II.- III.- —In Memoriam Charles 1 ennyson Turner —The Anniversary of Charles Tennyson Turner'^ Death, 25th April —Kendal Castle : or the Power of Tradition . I 2 IV.- —Windermere — Autumn . • • , 4 Y.- VL- VII.- —The Sycamore Tree, Ambleside . — Wray Castle ..... -The Haunted Hall at Calgarth 5 6 7 VIII.> —Cloud-Rest on Fairfield 8 IX.- X.- —Wordsworth's Seat, Rydal . —From Fox How . . . , 9 10 XI.- XTI.- XIII.- — Loughrigg Tarn .... — Water-Lilies in Pullwyke Bay —11 Bel and High Street II 12 13 XIV.- —The Larch .... 14 XV.. —First Frost .... 15 X VI.- XVII.- — Grasmere . . . . * -Stock Ghyll Barred, A Protest . 16 17 XVIIL- — Dunmail Raise . . . , 18 XIX.- XX.- —Song and Life .... —Winter Sunrise on the Fells . 19 20 XXI.- XXII.- —The Mourner and the Brathay —The Willow-Warbler . 21 22 XXIII.- XXIV.- — 'I'he Geologist's Funeral. In J. C. W., Buried at Keswick, 1880 — Blelham Tarn Mem April » . • ^ oriarr 20th 23 24 XXV.- XXVI. XXVIL- —The Grasmere Sports . —The Thrush in Spring . —The Lake Mirror : in Autumn . 25 26 27 Vlll. CONTENTS. XXVIII.- XXIX. XXX. XXXI.- XXXII.- XXXIII.- XXXIV.- XXXV.- XXXVI.- XXXVII.- XXXVIII.- XXXIX.- XL.- XLI.- XLII.- XLIII.- XLIV.- XLV.- XLVI.- XLVII.- XLVIII.- XLIX.. L. LI. LII.- LIII.- LIV. LY. LVI.- LYII.- LVIII.- PAGE -The Crier of Claife .... 28 -At Wray Cottage ..... 29 -Clouds on the Hills .... 30 -The Lion and the Lamb : or Helm Crag after a Storm . . . . . 31 -The Harvest Thanksgiving ... 32 ■Early Snow ...... 33 -The Langdale Pikes .... 34 -On Seeing a Telegraph Wire and Pillar Post below Wordsworth's House • . 35 -The Squirrel ...... 36 -Latterbarrow ....'. 37 -Nab Cottage : a Memory of Hartley Cole- ridge ....... 38 ■Stock Ghyll ...... 39 -A Return to the Lakes .... 40 -The Tarn in Autumn . . . . 41 -Low-Wood at Evening ... 42 -Dovenest ...... 43 -East Wind in Spring .... 44 -Death the Befriender .... 45 -The Twin Streams from Harter Fell, Seath- waite ....... 46 -The Lake Steamer in Autumn . . 47 -Grasmere Revisited .... 48 -Brathay Churchyard .... 49 -The Sabbath Bell 50 -A Tree Planted by William Wordsworth at Wray Castle . . . . . 5^ -Pigeon Shooting at Ambleside. A Protest 1 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 ^l 84 85 86 87 %% 89 X. CONTENTS. XC- XCI.- XCIL- XCIII.- XCIV.- xcv. XCVI.- XCVII.- XCVIII.- XCIX.- c- CI.- CII.- CIII.- CIV.- CV.- CVI. CVII.- CVIII.- CIX.— ex.- CXI. CXII.- OXIII.- CXIV.- cxv.- CXVI. CXVII. €XVIII. CXIX.- •Stock Ghyll after a Thaw •Hawkshead from Furness Fells •Moon-rise over Wansfell ■Spring Days . . . ■The Laurels at Storrs . ■The River Message at White Moss ■The Sybil's Grotto : or Rhododendrons at Croft . . . . ■Wild Flowers on Loughrigg ■Songs in Silence. Rydal . ■Yewdale Crags . . •At Yewdale Fann ■Poplars at the Friends' Meeting-House, Colt house .... Bowfell .... The Cave at White Moss Stone Arthur Helvellyn .... The Leven and Rhododendrons at Lakeside July at the Lakes ■August at the Lakes . The Northern Nightingale. On hearing a Ballad sung in the North Country Dialect by A. M. W Sunset and the Westmoreland Emigrant Furness Abbey ...... At King Henry's Chapel, Muncaster. Autumn The Runic Cross inGosforth Churchyard Eskmeals. The Love of Nature Daily Food The Old Wreck at Seascale The Tower on the Hoad. Ulverston . ■The Cottage Window at Sunset . The Valley of the Lune. From Lunefield Home ....... Valedictory ...... PAGE 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09 10 II 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 XL INTRODUCTORY. LOW foul 07^ fair ^ the hand that fashio7ied thee Beat at a village foi'ge each separate fiail^ Thrashed out at home the hemp to spin thy sail^ From the 7iear wood has ho7Toived eve7y tree. Thy keel may ojily k7ioiv an i7thind sea ; If captious Heaven blow a7i adverse gale Thou hast^ f^ail hai'k^ on hoard 7io si7igle hale That thou canst give to hold the wind in fee : Yet haply 07i thy decks a child shall sta7id To veer thy sail^ to hold the rudder ha7id ; By verdu7'ous sho7'es thou 77iayst in Sp7'ing-time take Old limbs that 7ieed the sun^ sad hea7'ts that ache ; A7id they of thy rude fashio7iing ivJio ask., May speed thy venture for its fiendly task. SONNETS AT THE ENGLISH LAKES i I. IN MEMORIAM CHARLES TENNYSON TURNER. SINGER of songs most simple and most sweet, With artlessness that only art commands, Thy notes are hushed, the lute has slipped thy hands, And lies still echoing with thy heart's last beat, Full tuned, and fit for service, at thy feet. But w^hoso dares enlist its tender strands Must know^ the touch a humble soul demands, And eyes of love that lowliest things will greet. In thee the dumb creation found a voice; Though much confined thy music's dainty sphere. No wings that flashed but did thy song rejoice, No hedge-row cry but found a listening ear. Child-hearted thou, by nature as by choice. True Christian Poet ! blameless Sonneteer ! B SONNETS AT THE II. THE ANNIVERSARY OF CHARLES TENNYSON TURNER'S DEATH, 2Sth APRH. THE Fells are wrapt in purple, murky gloom Confuses sky with earth, and hill with plain ; Grief-laden clouds go by, loud sobs the rain, And distant lakes, pale-faced as sorrow, loom. I think of thee, thy quiet eartliy room Opens its grassy door, I see again The Man who with his music beat out pain, And went down singing to a conqueror's tomb. Dear friend ! the world is darker, yea, it seems These pale Anemones that shuddering bow, These Celandines that hide their suns away, Have not forgot thy dying, nor the day ; ^.I'he woodland stars are quenched with tears, but tbou Art glad where God's eternal sunlight beams. ENGLISH LAKES. III. KENDAL CASTLE: Or the Power of Tradition. STRENGTH for his task from hence the Roman drew ; Here Talbois kept the foe beyond the gate : For thoughts of this, their native castle state, The Kendal shafts at Flodden straighter flew ; And here in strength the little Catherine grew, Here conned her books, here learned to meditate, Who, stoutly Protestant, would dare debate With rough King Hal, and roused the Romish crew. The bow and buckram, by the Fleming's skill. To cloth-yard wand and woollen frieze gave way. But hearts are helped by that old ruin still, Though moat be dry and fortress keep decay ; And such an awe is on the grassy hill At courtier distance all the houses stay. SOALyi:TS AT THE IV. WINDERMERE — A UTU^fX. BLUE as tlie waves upon the Midland seas, The frost has rimmed thvsha!^!J^• banks with c:old, And — messen2:er of comiiii^; chanije — the cold From Troutbeck blown, and over Fairneld's knees, Sweeps with a touch of winter ; and the trees — Tall fires about the bluffs and headlands bold — Burn up the woods in colours manifold. To fall to ashes at the earliest breeze. These are the gifts of Autumn — azure floods And amber reeds, and gold among the woods : Bur I would give this colour, all this store. For one bird-voice alon^^ thv silent shore : Would welcome utter leaflessness, to hear The cuckoo's voice come over V/indeniiere, ENGLISH LAKES. THE SYCAMORE TREE, AMBLESIDE. STRAIGHT-SPRINGING fount of summer cool and shade, Have then thy life-streams somewhere up the hill A ceaseless store, a swift-descending rill, That thus to heaven, in beauty unafraid. Thou leapest into green ? Or, by the aid Of thine own purpose and thy generous will. Hast thou from waters of the neighboring ghyll An high-built summer-house for song-birds made ? Tall Welcomer, by strangers first espied, Reared o'er the milk-white walls and sunny eaves, The traveller loves thee, entering Ambleside ; And thee he turns to gaze at as he leaves : Long may the woodman's axe to wanderers spaxe Thy monumental presence high in air SONNETS AT THE VI. WRAY CASTLE. WHO planned thy strength of towers was out of date ; No leaguers now can storm thee but the wind ; Nor fiercer foe unbidden entrance find Than April shower beneath a crazy slate ; And there thou sittest in thy solemn state, Waiting for Time about thy brows to bind The grace that larger years than aid mankind, And days forgetful of thy birth create. Uplifted pale above thy circling groves, Or moving with the traveller as he moves In rushing boat or by the dusty shore. Thou still canst wake the gift that comes from Heaven, Sweet Fancy, and from Brathay to the Leven Breathe o'er the lake a quaint Romantic lore. ENGLISH LAKES. VII. THE HAUNTED HALL AT CALGARTH. CALGARTH, I never pass thy haunted plain But I remember Heaven did well requite Among his vines, the patriot Jezreelite, Who would not sell his father's plot for gain : Much water washed that car's avenging stain, A little earth holds Jezebel, but to spite The modem Ahab, and to claim their right, These sculls, though brayed and burnt, return agairu ^^Now^j guard thee ! guard thee well, MylesPhilipson,^' — So rang the curse — ''We still thy tenants stay !'' '' Ours is the dearest acre thou hast won. Its fruits misfortune, loss of friends, decay." A ruined hall, a name wiped out, attests How God avenged the murderer's yeoman-guests. See Note I., Appendix. 8 SONNETS AT THE Yin. CLOUD' REST ON FAIRFIELD. BOSOM of calm, while those ungoverned wills, The April shadows, restless as the wind, Fitfully pass, in hope some peace to find, Lo ! as a heart's presentiment of ills The human face with agitation fills, This morn, methinks. Heaven's sorrow has combined With Earth's dark fear to give the mountain-mind Anguished expression on the troubled hills ; But here the Clouds, by no rude wind distrest, Lean their white arms on Fairfield's circling rim ; Or, led by SunHght's soft enticing hand, Move slow, majestic, up the hollow land, And, lingering late upon the mountain's brim, At night return, to sleep, and brood, and rest. ENGLISH LAKES. IX. WORDSWORTH'S SEAT, RYDAL. EIGHT steps there are beneath a poet's throne : A lover's heart, a meditative will, Ambitious perseverance, obstinate skill That knows how painfully the jewel shone, A prophet's sight, a soul's communion With humblest wayside things by dale and hill, An eye that tears can on a sudden fill, And lips that smile before the tears are gone. But, mounting up thy rocky poet's seat With hesitation, as before a king's, These other twain beneath thy throne I found : Knowledge of peace that human goodness brings — Of life most earnest, solemn, joyful, sweet ; T cried, thy throne is sure, great Bard, thy kingdom sound lo SONNETS AT THE X. FROM FOX HO IV. THIS home for rest, AVho never rested planned, Pure, faithful, zealous, unambitious, good- Musing, I saw in RydaFs winter wood The towering pine-clump take a full command Of all the listening leafless brother band ; So, in our school-day winter-time, he stood For English school, and true schoolmasterhood ; So seems he still jjre-eminent to stand. Thence, upward gazing — lo, on Fairfield's crown, Above the storm, and first to see the sun, A Titan's grave his giant memory keeps ; Willing he was, Ood never called him down ; High on his whole heart's rampire Arnold sleeps, And round the pines the summer has begun. See Note H., Appendix. ENGLISH LAKES. 1 1 XI. LOUGHRIGG TARN. THOU blue-eyed daughter of the mountain streams, Born with the rocks, and older than the rain, Whose banks with purple loosestrife are ingrain, Thy quick impressioned face is shot with gleams Of distant splendours, and the marvellous dreams Of mountains in thy mirror are made plain ; Thy fresh young life a hundred founts sustain. How like a wise man's heart thy being seems, Content where God has set thy bounds to live, All beauty got from Heaven content to give ! Yet, if a breeze with passion flaw thy face, How blurred thy mirror, and how marred thy grace ! Noiseless at noon, and calm at evenfall, For thee white lilies twine their virgin coronal 12 SONNETS AT THE XII. WATER-LILIES IN PULLWYKE BAY. SHUT close your ivory doors, the dews are near, Your hundred golden tongues from this gold day Have tasted all the beauty that they may, And sucked enough of sweetness from the mere ; For rest the perch their crimson rudders steer Beneath your leafy isles, to whose soft sway The dragon-fly, a length of rich inlay, Trusts his bkie jewel till the dawn appear. Down the bright cords all day, to buds below, Joy and the sun have gone to bid them blow ; With purest aspiration, high commands, Their leaves float up, each silvery bud expands ; Night falls — to these dumb things for shelter glide ; Pain comes — to what high helpers shall we dumb confide ? ENGLISH LAKES. 1 3 XIII. IL BEL AND HIGH STREET.^ WHETHER they knew their God as II or EI, Almighty power, or dread Typhonic praised. By yon high altar old-world ashes raised, The painted Briton learned the name of Bel ; In hopes of Heaven, he lit the fires of hell ; The beasts shrank off, afar the eagle gazed, Helvellyn answered, Scaw and Gavel blazed, And Stinchcombe flared responses to CrossfelL The Roman came, and back the eagles yelled, Their brazen wings through those Phoenician fires Swooped scathless, flinging ashes all abroad ; Awhile the axes rang, the trees were felled, And up the heights the jangling yoke and tires Proclaimed the Gospel of the Latin road. * The remains of the Roman military road over High Street are still visible. It passes immediately beneath the conical summit of II Bel. The name of this remarkable hill on the High Street range seems not only to have preserved to us the local tradition of Baal or Belus worship, but to suggest the attribute under which he was known to the worshippers. 14 SONNETS AT THE XIV. THE LARCH. LOVER of hills, and Lady of the lakes, If still with thee the birch must empire share^ When rubies fruit along the beaded hair, Thy grace the palm pre-eminently takes ; For then, when first the burly bee awakes, As if to take the landscape unaware, With gradual change, and dreamy, j^hantom air, Thine heart again to feathery greenness shakes : Feigner of Death, but first to brave the cold, Thou teachest how the multitude can live In glad interdependence and be free ; Thy voice, with murmurs of a summer sea. Brings blessing o'er the hills, and thou dost give, For scarce a footing, showers of Autumn gold. ENGLISH LAKES. 1 5 XV. FIRST FROST. IT was the time when Jupiter alone Burned in the south with undivided sway, And dark against the primrose-dying day Stood forth the cairn of ancient Coniston ; No longer in the tarn reflected shone The snowy fields on mountains far away ; Dull were the larches, late so golden gay ; The light from out the feathered reeds was gone : Then up the dusky lane, with welcome sound To milkmaid's ear, the lowing cattle past, And mellowly they crushed the crisping ground, Their breath in silver o'er their shoulders cast ; The Herdsman, as he stumbled after, cried, ^^ A bitter frost, God vrot, this eventide." i6 SONNETS AT THE XVI. GRASMERE. CHILD of the tarn, the fountains, and the sun, The hills that rear their beauty by thy shore, Thy calm enisled water-plain once more In tears I come to visit, e'en as one Who, when his hoard of strength is well-nigh gone. Comes in great pain for wasting of his store. Treading the thirsty wilds he trod before, In trust to fmd where cooling waters run. For I am aged, but from these rocks I take A conscious touch of their immortal youth ; Feeble and worn, thy lake with freshness fills My veins, invigorate of thy sinewy hills, And wavering, lo, am wiser for the truth That clothes thy mountains and that haunts thy lake. ENGLISH LAKES. 1 7 XVII. STOCK GHYLL BARRED."^ A Protest. THE gift of God — our earth more cool was grown. In liquid drops the steamy vapour fell ; Long ages after, by a Syrian well. In those same w^ords a deeper truth was known. The water-bearer to the Arab town Cries the same truth, and gives but will not sell. Before this streamlet, in an English dell. Dare I the free continuous gift disown ? '' God's gift to all '' — shall craven men allow Desire of pelf and individual greed To bar the gate and ask a sordid fee, f To tax the wondering eye that comes to see. Take mean advantage of a brothers need. And claim a toll for Nature's public show ? * The street cry of the Caircne water-carriers is, ''The Gift of God." Since this Sonnet was written the residents of Ambleside, with great public spirit, have purchased the ground adjoining the Fall, with the view of throwing it open to the public for ever. 1 8 SONA^ETS AT THE XVIII, DUNMAIL RAISE* % A CRUEL place to dout a mortars eyes, So fair the scene, yet here the deed was done \ Cast with a sigh the tributary stone For those two sons whose sire hereunder lies. That day when Edmund, with victorious cries, Stormed up the pass, and broke grey Cumbria's throne, He little thought those blinded boys had won The surer realm where Pity never dies. And those brave lads, whose only fault was this, They helped their father, for the British right, Hot on their eyes the brand might sear and hiss, And bring with pain of hell unending night, But better blindly grope the mountain ways Than see the Saxon over Dunmail Raise, * At Dunmail Raise, the boundary of Westmoreland and Cumberland, the Saxon King, Edmund, a.d. 945, defeated and slew Dunmail, the last King of Cumberland, and put out the eyes of his two sons. ENGLISH LAKES. 1 9 XIX. SONG AND LIFE. I\ydal. WHEN woods are full of Sprinfr, you shall not find One song unsung, one note of future ill ; Then comes a Frost, and all the boughs are chill, The sad leaves sicken and the trees are pined : But Man hath ever Summer in his mind, His singing changes only when he will ; In him the heart of life is stirring still, Though winds blow change, and weather prove unkind. Thou, Rydal, tho' thy Forest steep is bare, And Autumn's blue is gathered in thy wood, One note is clearer for the silent air. Heard best by ear of Meditation's mood — A song of Rest and Need of soft repair, Till Swallows seek again their Summer food ?o SONNETS AT THE XX. WINTER SUNRISE ON THE FEIIS. I HAD not thought that in our English cold The sun could rise upon a sight so fair : Clear cut against far depths of rosy air The mountains stood, white marble, washed with gold, And veined with shadowy sapphire ; fold on fold Snow mantles fell most royal and most rare Over their ample shoulders, milky hair Streamed down from sunlit head and forehead old. Such seeming fitness, such a proud estate, So swift assumed, so suddenly beheld, Such mute magnificence, such powers of eld, Would make a courtier's heart to hesitate ; And I, fresh come on Fancy's faltering wings. Passed dumb before the Winter's mountain kings. ENGLISH LAKES. 2 1 XXI. THE MOURNER AND THE BR AT HAY. BORN of the far-off careless mountain throng, What moved thee, Brathay, so to slacken pace? Was it the soul of sympathetic grace AVhich through all Nature's sorrowing is strong ? For slow, with hushing of thy rocky song, Between the trees mellifluous interspace, Thou passest on toward the holy place Where tears are shed and memory is long. How many a broken-hearted man at eve Has seen in yon still water's golden reach The Star of Love o'er Langdale brightlier burn, And, homeward from that solace loath to turn. Has felt thy passionate music with him grieve, Hearing the pent-up silence break to speech ! i2 SONNETS AT THE XXII. THE IVILLOIV'WARBLER. WHEN Cal garth's Oaks are bronzing into leaf, And Ai)ril scatters Orrest Head with green, When cuckoos cry, and cushats mourn between My future sadness and my present grief, Thy note's enchantment brings me comfort chief, Witli quavering voice about the hazel screen, Charming away what else of pain had been Too deep i' the cup for that sleep-fanning thief To steal, and turn to sweetness as he hums. Though not for us the empassioned nightingale Fires the dusk air with song and bids it shake. Thou, sombrest warbler of the Northern vale, For hearts not inconsolable dost make An anodyne for sorrow when it comes. ENGLISH LAKES. 23 XXIII. rilE GEOLOGISTS FUNERAL. In Memoriani y, C, fF., Buried at Keswick^ April 20iJi^ 1880. BURY him here, and let his body's dust Be ash to ash in this volcanic land, Whose fiery secrets he could understand ; Right well may we his dissolution trust To that same Will that through the lava crust Spouted the granite fountains. God ! vv^hose hand Of this earth's waste new continents hath planned. Into thy i)otter\s clay a gem we thrust. No more his feet we follow up the cleft. Or hear his questioning hammer tap and ring, And learn which way the primal bergs were rolled ; But, till the Greta ceases sorrowing, We leave him here, contented to be left, Schooled in a lore whose days are aeons old. Note. — The river Greta takes its name from the A.S. grcetan^ to weep ; old Eng., greets to lament, probably in allusion to the sound of its waters wailing among the rocky boulders of its channel. 24 SONNETS AT THE BLELHAM TARN. I KNOW the dreamy quiet of the tomb, Have sailed through aether's silences profound, Wild rocks have climbed that listen for the sound Of Echo and have never heard her come, White wastes explored where words are frozen dumb, And tropic plains ; yet have I never found For peace and rest such consecrated ground As lies, dear tarn, about thy mountain home : Scent from the sunbrown hay-field thou dost gather, Music from reeds, and humming breadths of heather, Swift-changing colour from the blushing skies. When to her larchen roost the ringdove flies ; From imaged hills their secrets thou dost borrow To blossom into lilies on the morrow. ENGLISH LAKES. 25 XXV. THE GRASMERE SPORTS. BID by the day they wait for all the year, Shepherd and swain their gayest colours don, For race and sinewy wrestling meet upon The tournay ground beside the shining mere. For them no high-built seats their circles rear, Heaven spreads above her pure pavilion, Sun-tanned Stone-Arthur looks approval on. And Scilva Flow reiterates the cheer. No banner-fame they boast, no high emprize ; A brother's praise is all the meed they ask ; The fullest guerdon of the stubborn task The love that lights a fluttering maiden's eyes ; And they who fall turn smilingly away, . Resolved to win the next year's meeting day. 26 SONNETS ylT THE XXVI. THE 7 'II RUSH IN SPRING. THE mating Pie, from yonder cedarn bough Less harshly sliakes Love's answer from his throat ; The Robin whistles, gossamers upfloat ; The ploughman's heart is gay beside his plough : But one glad voice again I hear and know. In this first morning concert, one dear note That, like a dainty sonnet learned by rote, Rings up, and threads long years of memory through : Thine is the voice, triumphant, happy Thrush ! The nut-plumes scarce are rosy, birches pale Not yet have donned their purples in the dale, But thou, in yonder flowering hazel-bush Shaking the tassels into gold, dost swdng ; Thy song is sure, for thou hast felt the Spring. ENGLISH LAKES. 2 7 w XXVII* THE LAKE MIRROR: IN AUTUMN. E sailed from cape to cape, whose headlands <^rey to- Had blossomed branchy gold, and half in fear, Through liquid mirrors of the Autumn mere, We ventured in amongst the leafy sway Of watery woodland, and the russet spray Of fern and rosy brier, reflected clear, Set dancing by the prow as we drew near. To grow to stillness as we passed away. That day the glory of two worlds was ours, A depth and height of faint autumnal sky, A double pageant of the painted wood : Still as we stole upon a summer flood. Marbled by snow the mountain tops close by Spoke from warm depths of Winter's nearing hours. 28 SONNETS AT THE XXVIII. THE CRIER OF CLAIFE. THE Priests who served at Sire de Courci's shrine Might ply the ghost with candle, book, and bell, But that old Crier of Claife on Furness Fell, As long as ivy evergreens shall twine, May sally forth at will from his ravine. And rouse the boatman with his human yell ; Winds are not laid by sacerdotal spell. And spirits own a Master more Divine. Oft when the storm goes scurrying up the height I hear the hollow moaning of the wind Like ghosts in sorrow, and a word of Christ's Linked with that monkish failure, fills the night : ^' Can Mortals track the free wind home, or bind The Spirit blowing ever as it lists ? " See Note III., Appendix. ENGLISH LAKES. 29 XXIX. AT WRAY COTTAGE. NEVER was Peace so absolute ; you may hear The dews descending as the shadow moves ; The toying butterflies tell forth their loves ; For yonder heights, if some child-mountaineer Cried, Echo's voice would ripple the still mere, And fill with wonder silent forest-groves ; Yea, our own heart would flutter like a dove's If but in Heaven a cloudlet should appear. The farms stand vacant, fields half-harvested, Along the vale no herdsman's cry is sent ; You could believe the shepherds all had fled Beyond the hills for life and merriment ; And down the gossamer's slow-sailing thread Plashed out the thought in rainbow hues — Content ! 30 SONNETS AT THE XXX* CLOUDS ON THE HILLS. ALONG the embattled ramparts of the world Each day the clouds, like sentries roused from sleep, Continual watch upon the large Sun keep, To fence him in, their banners are unfurled ; And lest his shafts be over-hotly hurled Upon the panting heights, their shadows creep From cleft to cleft, from steep to scarred steep, Or over vale and mountain-head are curled. But none the less the low sun's golden might Flames through the barriers and lets fall the night ; And men, mere shadowy sentries, guard their fate ; '' For us," say they, "alone the sun doth shine :" i>ut Life's great purpose flames beyond the gate, And they are left in darkness to repine. ENGLISH LAKES. 3 1 xxxi. THE LION AND THE LAMB: Or Helm Crag after a Storm. WHEN shall tlie Lion with the Lamb He down ? Not while the world's steep battle-fields are black, Not till ambition's thunder and the wrack And mist of national selfishness have flown ; Till those warm rains of flattery that drown Have emptied all their clouds upon the back Of adamantine worth ; and o'er the track Of blind assailants grass of God has grown. wSo thought I, when upon that craggy helm, Dark with the sear and gloom of pitiless rain, 'Mid ashen rocks that liurtling storms o'erwhelm, I saw the rusty fern's ensanguined stain, And calmly grand the Lion did espy Couched with the Lamb, beneath a silent sky. 32 SONNETS AT THE XXXII. THE HARVEST THANKSGIVING. SHUT close the barn, and put the yokes away ; Ho ! red-capped thresher, hang your shining flail; Ho ! herdsman, leave the cattle in the vale. Shepherds, your flocks shall on the mountain stray, And share with you the general holiday. The girl who skims the bowl, and froths the pail, Whose harvest brings a daily festival, — The tinkling bell invites her, too, to pray. All in the flower-decked church may kneel and ask Who saved the seed. Who gave the corn's increase ? And each may consecrate the ended task By resting there a little w^hile in peace. While bowed with work old men will wondering say, Shall we be here the next Thanksgiving day ? ENGLISH LAKES. 33 XXXIII. EARLY SNOW. SCARCE was the Cherry, earliest changeling, red, The southing swallow scarce had taken flight. When flecks of snow foamed over Fairfield's height, And waves of Winter broke o'er Scandale Head : But in the vales not yet was summer dead, Her warm-breath'd hosts swarmed upward to the fight ; Beat back by day, the snows advanced at night, And now they gained, and now the invaders fled. A loud recall the northern breezes blew, The snow-white foe broke up its battle-line, But still in stubborn companies the few Made desperate stand in hollow and ravine ; They felt how soon from out their northern home Would AVinter lead, and reinforcements come. D 34 SONNETS AT THE XXXIV. THE LANGDALE PIKES. GRIM guardians of silence, mighty pair ! All day, on your broad backs the strong sun lies. Upon your scarry front he latest dies. Beneath the stars ye couch, giant and bare ; The morning comes, ye shrink not to your lair ; And at the noon the large dew-shower flies From off your manes, while round the falcon cries, And the hoarse raven clamours in your hair. Above a lovely land ye lie, and see Age after age of little men go by ; High overhead, ye feel the ageless sky, And underneath, the slowly waning lea ; But bold in mist, calm in the shock of storm, Like a strong purpose, lo, ye keep your lion form ! ENGLISH LAKES. 35 XXXV. ON SEEING A TELEGRAPH WIRE AND PILLAR- POST BELOW WORDSWORTH'S HOUSE. THE Poet he who strikes a Prophet's lyre, And to his own day's ear will tune its chimes ; For while this quick world jars there shall be Rhymes, And while men love they will Love's Song require. So thought I, as I spied the humming wire Whose sound was as bee-music in the limes, And that grim letter-post, that held betimes The peasant's missive and the lord's desire. Is it not well the Eolian harp should sing Down the white road that gave the sage his thought ? And well the post should back to memory bring The man whose sympathy to concord wrought The poet's passion and the postman's lot, — Who lived, and loved, and sang in yonder humble cot? 36 SONNETS AT THE XXXVI. THE SQUIRREL. LIGHT-HEARTED dweller in the voiceless wood, Pricking thy tasselled ears in hope to tell Where, under, in thy haste, the acorn fell : Now, for excess of summer in thy blood, Running through all thy tricksy change of mood, Or vaulting upward to thy citadel To seek the mossy nest, the miser-cell, And chuckle o'er thy winters hoard of food. Miser ? I do thee wrong to call thee so, For, from the swinging larch-plumes overhead, In show^ers of whispering music thou dost shed Gold, thick as dust, where'er thy light feet go : Keep, busy Almoner, thy gifts of gold ! Be still ! mine eyes ask only to behold. ENGLISH LAKES. 37 XXXVIK LATTERBARRO W. THEY set old Lathar dead upon the height That looks o'er Hiarn's spring ^^ to Solva's How ;f Between his knees they placed the spear and bow. Fresh strung for battle, in the land of Night. In lusty song the warriors told his might ; The little ones in whispers learned to know How sometime from Valhalla's halls of snow Would Lathar come to take again his right. Strong in that faith the sorrowing clansmen went. Hewed down the wood, set fences, sowed the seed. Let light to Blelham's Tarn, would dare to bleed, To that stern barrow's trust obedient. O ! for such voice from Olivet to cry, ** God claims the land He lent — The Christ is by 1 '^ * Iron-Keld. + Silver How. 38 SONNETS AT THE H XXXVIII. NAB COTTAGE: A Memory of Hartley Coleridge. E to whose dreams did rhythmic measures throng, Whose walks were tuneful (so the shepherds tell), Was it not strange he lipped a polished shell, And sang for scholar's ear the saddest song ? He spoke his native mountains^ rugged tongue ; The brook for him leapt boisterous in the dell ; The stately hollows of yon scarry Fell For him their wildest echoes did prolong. Unchanged the scene, and still the sycamore Flutters its seed-wings to the Poet's door, But those gay flowers, whose garden home he planned, Have strayed abroad to please a stroller's hand : How like thyself, the Muse's delicate child, Whose life was of the wind, rejoicing to be wild ! ENGLISH LAKES. 39 XXXIX- STOCK GHYLL. BEFORE thy echoing grot, thy cavern'd shrine. Deep in the leafy hollow of the wood, Whoe'er — a chance-come ministrant — has stood, And watched thy waters part and re-combine In anguished fall, — thy Rainbow twist and shine In cloudy iridescence, lo ! his mood Has leapt up hopeful as the bow ; the flood Has filled his heart with oracle divine. For, fresh from out the downward rush and strife Of souls swept on in passion to their fall, Of wavering hearts by currents overborne — Himself so nigh to drowning — here his life, Learns the stern lesson failure brings to all. Feels for the Rainbow's promise less forlorn. 40 SONNETS AT THE XL. A RETURN TO THE LAKES. WE left behind the clamour of the town, And northwards tlirough a silent land we sped : Cots brownly thatched, old halls wdth gables red Peeped through the elms and orchards newly blown. Thence through a world where, ere the blade was grown, ^Neath sulphurous skies the corn was pale and dead, Where grimy labour, clamorous for bread, Cursed the black fields wherein its seed was sown. Last to the hills we came, — the quiet steep Of Froswick rose, the Langdale lions kept The same still watch, and in the silent west Those great twin mountain-brothers leaned at rest* Forth from the train invigorate I stept New-made already, by the home of sleep. * Coniston Old Man and Wetherlam. ENGLISH LAKES. 41 \ XLI. THE TARN IN A UTUMN. SURE, Blelham Tarn was touched by generous thought. To make such Autumn joy twice given seem \ From phantom larches did the pied jay scream. In amber depths his food the squirrel sought ; Down easy slopes of air from distance brought, And near almost to touching, as in dream, Between the branches, hills of snow did gleam — Pure amethyst with ivory inwrought So in the quiet, clear, reflecting mind. Stand earliest hopes, still bright with leaf of gold ; But 'twixt the shining tresses you may find Far mountain barriers, white with storm and cold, Brought over years of mellow interspace. And set by calm of Autumn, glorious, face to face- 42 SONNETS AT THE XLII. LOW- WOOD At Evening. WHEN Bowfell fades, and Blisco's Pike grows dim, And thy twin sisters, Loughrigg, loom up large ^ To clasp the evening Lake in tender charge, The lovers' skiff, for all it lightly skim, Stirs the dusk edge of WansfelFs mirrored rim, And sets the Fir trees dancing ; then the barge Moves weary to its anchor at the marge, And all the waters tremble brim to brim. But ere the tiny breakers cease to beat. And woods and fields reflected turn to rest, I hear a lengthening sound of w^heels and feet Break and pause, wave-like, bringing home the guest ; While, like a hull upon a seaward tide. The Low-wood Hostel twinkles, Argus-eyed. ^' Loughrigg, Wansfell, and Iron-Keld, often seem at twilight to crowd up close to the shores of the Lake ; and, owing to the fact that the outlying ranges of hills are wrapped in mist, assume giant proportions. ENGLISH LAKES. 43 XLIII. DOVE NEST. THEY tell how southern nightingales most love To haunt the leafy verges of the wood, And there with throbbing harmony to flood The drowsy pastures where the cattle rove. Glad one,, misnamed ! the border of this grove, With its green Spruces where the pigeons brood, Once bade thee, of thine own time's minstrelhood The queen, to share thine empire with the dove : Soft-voiced as they, thy notes to field and pen Went up the pastures, wandered on the lake, And, like the nightingales, thou still would'st hide : But what of joy the coppice held inside Thy song so plainly told, that for its sake This wood was dear to simple labouring men. C( i Dovenest' gave shelter and repose to Felicia Hemans at a time when hard events seemed to be christening her ' Infelicia.' " — Extract. 44 SONNETS AT THE XLIV. EAST WIND IN SPRING. TILL noon the horses in the stable stayed, They left the ploughs at evening to the frost ; The farmers' early sowing time was lost ; The fells were blanched, and not a new Spring blade Came to the milkless mothers' grateful aid ; The ivies from the barn for fodder tost Did but prolong slow famine ; shepherds crost From mead to mead to count their flocks afraid Keen was the wind from out the bitter East, Which nipped the life that never could be fed ; The Hazel dust before the flowers were red Was blown to fruitless waste ; while man and beast, And bird and grass, and sunless Winter air, Held April false, and sickened in despair. ENGLISH LAKES. 45 XLV. DEATH THE BEFRIENDER. TO wait and hear, as soft as feet in snow, Ay, and as cold, Death coming down the way,- To feel we have not very long to stay, And then a journey w^here we cannot know : Ah, this would wring the sweat-drops from the brow, Would force our lips to falter and to pray. But some there are, who, dying every day, Have made Death friend and neighbour long ago. Of such art thou, and here as thou dost lie To wait thy first resolving into dust, The creed of ^^ Allah '' passes wath a cry ; Nirvana from its wide-world throne is thrust ; Fresh from a tomb in sight of Calvary Stands One to whom my death-hour I entrust. 46 SONNETS AT THE XLVI. THE TWIN STREAMS FROM HARTER FELL, SEATIIWAITE. DRAWN from the veins of shaggy Harter Fell, With one same hope to find the western sea, How little do their infant lives agree ! What varied tales their growing voices tell ! The one a louder note may chance to swell, But hides, deep-run, its grace from tree to tree ; The other, foamy-white, goes dancing free, Cool for the flocks that love its w^aters well : Yet both shall reach ere night a single goal. And either help ere morn the distant keel. And both, in common wish to aid, may feel The bond that binds them, soul to brother soul. Turn, wanderer, here in Duddon valley turn, True charity of these twin streamlets learn ! ENGLISH LAKES. 47 XLVII* THE LAKE STEAMER IN A UTJJMN. WITH stealthy step, and rosy-jewelled eye, The steamer glides at evening up the Lake, And ere to-morrow's dewy morn awake, Shall warm its heart another day to ply. Far up the hills its clear familiar cry May echo ; lengths of billowy smoke will break White on the trees, while not a leaf shall shake In all the yellowing woods it passes by. Then, if the arro^^y waves indignant race To lap their protest on the careless shore, Albeit, the liquid mirror's ruffled face Its rainbow lustres cannot quite restore. The keel shall leave a gleaming silvern trace To bind us to its presence gone before. 48 SONNETS AT THE XLViir, GRASMERE REVISITED. WHO cleft this road's monotonous interspace Wasleaguedwiththmeo..n fairness; well he knew How deep in human hearts the longing grew — Foretaste of heaven — for that soul-resting grace That comes of beauty, sudden, face to face : O ! how we held our breath again to view That isle at anchor, with its dusky crew, In undisturbed possession of the place ! Lord of dark Easedale's crescent wall, uprears The Lion ; in repose Steel Fell doth lie; The same white cup above the northern pass Is filled with blue Blencath'ra and the sky : Time turns again our youth's fast-failing glass, And Grasmere gives us back our stolen years. ENGLISH LAKES. 49 XLIX. BRATHAY CHURCHYARD. TELL, Brathay, tell, by what sweet influence led, Men to the God that made its fairness gave This quiet hill-side, and in reverence drave The wild wood-creatures hence that roamed and fed,- Here raised an Altar, and here laid the dead. Was it for heath to purple every grave, For psalms of life they caught from Brathay's wave, Or peace of soul that from its calm is bred ? Ay, and the hearts that come for solace, hear The Brathay stream compassionately flow ; Close at their side lost friends in fancy lean. And gaze, how changed ! upon the changeless scene. So, for their sakes, the place is doubly dear. And they are quiet ash, six feet below. E 50 SONNETS AT THE L. THE SABBATH BELL. HAST thou not seen upon a lifted face Thoughts that the halting lips have failed to tell, Or heard a blackbird in an April dell Shape into song the sweetness of the place ? So lost in that strange mood, when fancies chase Back thro' the brain their loveliness to spell, I heard the chime of some far church's bell Send forth the glad day's message into space : The high hills spake not, but a voice was there ; The hollows hushed, but in the hush was prayer ; The lake, that held the mountains to its breast, Gave back the mountains' meaning half-exprest, Till by unconscious hands that bell was rung. And Lake, Hill, Hollow, found a Sabbath tongue. ENGLISH LAKES. 51 A TREE PLANTED BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH AT WRAY CASTLE. LIVE they, who love God well enough to own That not unbidden falls a single leaf, That every grain is counted in the sheaf, And told each atom whirling in the stone, — That no bird flies, no floweret blooms alone ? Strong in obedience to a high belief, Their hearts help Heaven; to such is Nature chief; On Earth to these God makes his angels known. Grow slowlier old : the hand that planted thee, The heart that knew thy secret well, is dust ; Unto thy veins he did his life entrust, And thou wilt honour him. Immortal Tree ! These rocks shall give all tribute thou canst crave. For unto them his song a lasting glory gave. 52 SONNETS AT THE LII. PIGEON SHOOTING AT AMBLESIDE. A Protest. ABOVE the shooters, at their coward play, Beyond the leaden drifts of murderous hail, On higher wing the homeward Rookery sail. And clamour hoarse, loud protest and dismay ; Indignant valleys echo far away, ^' Pity is dead, and prayer of no avail ! " The soft-winged prisoner dies before the pale, Or dropped beyond, shall bleed another day. Was it to sanction death and banish love The Olive-bearer to the Ark returned ? Did God descend in likeness of a Dove That men, in sport, might take the life they spurned ? So vainly, all the years in cote and grove, Have these, unpitied, mourned, and mourned, and mourned. ENGLISH LAKES, 53 E LIII. UPPER FALLS, RYDAL. NCHANTER of the woodlands, thy delight- Blessing the air with deep suggestive sound- Is chiefest, w^hen from Fairfield's hollow round Thou dost to one collected voice unite Their thousand plaudits, who upon the height Saw Winter beat from off his vantage ground : For then, scarce pausing 'twixt the double bound, Thou tellest down the vale of Spring-time's might. And, as the soul that fresh from prison takes New sense of life, new power to wake and see, Thou quickenest all in passing : song awakes ; The Primrose peeps ; green sorrel hearts are free ; In pools of emerald, translucent clear, The ferny ledge beholds the budding year. 54 SONNETS AT THE LIV. NATURE'S EVENSONG. AT such a time as alders break to flower, Before the leaf with universal veil Has spread green sameness over hill and dale, And screened the nestlings from the April shower — How pleasant at the love-star's saffron hour, With lazy oar that helps the uncertain sail, To creep from bay to bay, and hear the tale The Blackbird flutes above his new-built bower. The purple copse from dusk to darkness goes, And those faint lamps that would the day prolong, The Palm flowers, shine with fainter, fainter gold ; But Love, Hope, Triumph, labour-earned Repose Chime in the mellow pauses of a song No nightfall hushes and no years make old ENGLISH LAKES. 5 5 THE WAGTAIL. Or^ TIu Dangers of Ritual. WITH tiniest voice about the garden walk, With shuffling pace, and balancing of gait, I watch thee chatter trifles to thy mate — Thy face in domino of black and chalk ; Then, quite transformed in mood, I see thee stalk With solemn look pretentious in debate, A white-haired doctor, college-cap on pate, Thy face and manner chiming with thy talk. With each new Spring, I need about my porch Thy quite unconscious oft-recurrent aid ; Thy change of manner, quick duplicity. Fancied, not real, must still a warning be, How, in her wish to please, a grave old Church May don a dress, and end in masquerade. 56 SONNETS AT THE LVI. THE MISER 'S FUNERAL. CUPS full of fruit and green, the acorns fell, The shallow-footed larches were uptorn ; To furthest pastures on her funeral morn The winds that blustered bore the toll of bell ; No eye was red for weeping at the knell, Black suits of ill-dissembled grief were worn, By careless hands her aged corse was borne, And only those she paid for said farewell. But w^hen, beside the open grave, we found What tears therein the bitter rain had wept, And heard how sadly from the dripping mound By moan of gust the Gospel words were swept, There seemed such sorrow in the rain and wind, Our hearts were touched, our w^ords were less unkind ENGLISH LAKES. 5 7 LVII, TALK, NOT WORK. THE whole world building-mad, one needs must think ! The Magpie shakes the mortar-sieve, the caw Of Rook is but the hoarse stone-mason's claw Smoothing his block ; and hark ! the constant chink- The hammer upon anvil — of the Spink ; The Titmouse filer sharpening up the saw, While full of wise suggestion sounds the Daw, And Partlett winds the windlass link on link. Well might the air with builders^ work resound. For all the birds were housing, mate with mate ; All but the Daws, who, on the new-sown ground, Filling their crops, were idle in debate. Methought, the birds build least who noisiest prate. And greedy Daws among us men abound. 58 SONNETS AT THE LVIII. CHAR FISHERS. HOME to the shore they row in circling line, Then, forwards bent, the fishing brothers stand AVith draw on draw and backward-swinging hand, Their hopeful faces earnest to divine The silver treasures of the liquid mine. Hark to the thrum ! how bright against the land The Rainbow leaps from off the tightening band ; How full of pearl the dripping meshes shine : Nor long delay, and lo, the darkened hold Is quick with gasping coralline and gold, And out afresh, in circles from the shore, The grey boat plies in hungry search for more : Enough of gain to urge it to the spoil, Enough of loss to bid to further toil. ENGLISH LAKES. 5 9 LIX. CLEAR WEATHER IN MARCH. SEx\SON of Winter lovelinesses heightened By day that earlier lives and later dies — • Season of sapphire waters, steady skies, And yellowing larch, and copses brorized and brightened By hazel buds, and woodland glooms enlightened By ash-shoots glancing grey, with ivories Of white birch stems, and wings of jays and pies At woodman's step from out the hollows frightened ! For thine exceeding clearness at the noon Men love thee, March ; but at the time of even Such blushing azures front the saffron West Their eyes with choice of beauty are distrest ; While, arbitress above in middle Heaven, In mutest indecision stands the Moon. 6o SONNETS AT THE THE WINTER STEAM-BOAT. LET prejudice contemn thee, but I know That they who live beside the Winter mere Must greet thy frequent passage, feel the cheer Of that swift eddying cloud of level snow, AVhich ever melts but still doth shift and grow Athwart the dreary headlands ; yea, must hear Right glad thy sovran summons at each pier. Those shrill farewells the steamy whistles blow. And when I see thee issuing out of storm, Thy fiery pantings by the following wind. Built to a most majestic pillared form. And moving straightly on, I call to mind How^ still across the tide, 'twixt friends and foes, God moves, to these a cloud, a fiery light to those. ENGLISH LAKES. 6 1 LXU THE BOULDER ON LATTERBARROW. BROUGHT by the hand of Winters, when the Ice Filled the deep vales and climbed the moun- tain's head. This mighty stone, with dripping larch spines red, Was purpled once with human sacrifice ; And here in absolute solitude it lies, Its priestly ministers the trees that shed Incense of odorous leafage, and the dread Of victims changed to Summer's woodland cries. With answering fire to Belus' ^' distant cone, While Druids sang, the ice-built altar blazed ; Stern Romans smeared the sacrificial stone With oil and wine, and loud their paean raised : Christ conquered — and the larches' monotone Tells how by quiet growth in grace can God be praised * II Bel. 62 SONNETS AT THE p LXII, WORDSWORTH'S TOMB. LAIN is the stone that marks the Poet's rest, Not marble worked beneath Italian skies — A grey slate head-stone tells where Wordsworth lies, Cleft from the native hills he loved the best. No heavier thing upon his gentle breast Than turf starred o'er in Spring with daisy eyes. Nor richer music makes him lullabies Than Rotha fresh from yonder mountain crest. His name, his date, the years he lived to sing, Are deep incised and eloquently terse, But Fancy hears the graver's hammer ring, And sees, 'mid lines of much remembered verse. These words in gold beneath his title v/rought — ^^Singer of Humble Themes and Noble Thought.'^ ENGLISH LAKES. (y^^ LXIII. MOONRISE MISTAKEN FOR THE NORTHERN LIGHTS. FROM Saturn up to Cassiopeia's seat, And northward to the sun that rules the Plough, The stars are quenched, the Heavens are all aglow. While Lake and Hill in ebon darkness meet ; Sprung from the shore, and rippling to our feet, A golden pillar lightens as w^e row. And over WansfelFs ridge, majestic, slow. The Moon walks on with snowy-sandalled feet. Our gain of light was Wonder's loss ; the sky No longer gleamed with streamers from the North ; To Souls in fear no judgment call went forth That earth should flame, and wither, and pass by. Had yonder Moon but staid behind the hill. Our hearts were full of awe and question still. 64 SONNETS AT THE LXIV. LENT'LILIES. NOT yet the Daffodirs up-pointed spear Is crooked and bent and beaten into gold, Scarce from the bud the silken swathes unrolled, To give the bee his cup of amber cheer, — When down the dusky thickets by the mere The young boy-hunters come with questing bold, AVhile toddling babes their frocks for aprons hold, And girls the flowery prize in baskets bear. Thence to the village Church their spoil they take With childish exultation, rival glee- To-morrow Jesus did from death awake, — Clear on the walls to-morrow men shall see The star of hope behind the cup He drank, In bright Lent-lilies gathered from the bank. ENGLISH LAKES. 65 LXV. THE D YING STRA GGLER. Res2gnatw7i. WITH many a roadside nibble's brief delay The sheep went Fell-ward : far as eye could note, A jostling multitude of woolly coat And shy black faces filled the narrow way. They passed, but in the dust a straggler lay With jaundiced eye; the pouch was at its throat. "^^^ Distempered so, no shepherd's antidote Can bid the slow consuming sickness stay. Left, and alone, and not to see again His old loved pasture, yet so meek resigned, — Ay, though his fellows bleat far up the slope. Heaven grant, when stricken, cheated of my hope, The Fell-side full before me, I may mind That dying straggler in the mountain lane ! * When the mountain sheep return in Spring to the Fells from the lowlands, it is no uncommon thing to see stragglers fall by the wayside. The jaundiced eye, and pouch beneath the throat, are sure signs of that incurable but slow wasting plague, the Fluke ^ which, in certain pastures, is the scourge of the flock who chance to feed there. 66 SONNETS AT THE LXVI. NATURE'S MUSIC DISHONOURED. Lake Trippe7's and the Steamer Band. THEY call it natural, innocent ; I feel Indignant, hearing some cheap buffet song, Or bursts of flashy music, borne along Above the waters round the crowded keel. Shame on the syren throats of brass that steal The ears of that unthinking festal throng. Who else might learn such music as among Their songless city lives would work for weal ! Have we no debts to their unlovely homes, To Nature's music owe we nothing more. That we should take their freedom when it comes, And send them back with such a sorry store. When, if these barren trumpets ceased to bray, Some eyes might weep, perchance a heart would pray? ENGLISH LAKES. 6 7 LXVII. tRjE twin spruces at rydal. IF ye had grown when sickles cut the rye. And Danish shepherds cHmbed the pastures' height,"^' Ye dark-haired foreigners that so unite On earth your lot, in Heaven your majesty, Your preacher's voice had been an empty cry ; For then the dalesmen, sharing sup and bite, Won from the soil their bread in equal right, x\nd hoped for common immortality. But now, Twin Brothers, green unswerving towers, From your high lips due warning we receive ; Ye stand beside the Pastor's lowly cot, Stern Protestants, whom brotherhood empowers Against the lips of Mammon that deceive. For happiness that comes of equal lot. * Fairfield preserves to us in its name the shepherd hfe of the old Danish settlers. Faiir-Feldt, in Danish; signifies Sheep Pasture. 6S SOAWETS AT THE LXVIII. RESURRECTION, Or Lake Mists on a IVmie}- Morn. TO sleep in cold forgetfulness, and wake Feeling while earth dissolves new impulse given, And up into the warm bright heart of Heaven, On wings full-fledged, a glorious way to take, — Clod grant it, when that last of mornings break ! Lo, as I prayed, the gates of night were riven ; Up purpling hills, by sweet attraction driven. The lucent clouds curled ghostlike from the lake. AVhat birth to beauty at the full was there — Inalienable glory won at prime — These hosts of angels rising from the mere, With all the honours of far sunset-time ! Yet, had their sleep been anything less cold, They ne'er liad mounted on such wings of gold. ENGLISH LAKES. 69 LXIX. THE CHILDREN GONE. Balla- Wray. LIKE flowers the children fade from off the hill, Back to their haunts the wild wood things return, Again the rabbit rustles through the fern, And undisturbed their barns the red mice fill. I wander forth in discontented will, Half jealous of these creatures' unconcern ; I long to break the little peace they earn By working for their food and being still. Give back the Children's voices ! — Then, with shame, I hear the mosses whisper at my feet, Would Asphodel or Sundew be as sweet If all the year their gentle flowerets came ? No — let the children with the swallows fly, — So loved, so lost, so welcomed by-and-by ! 70 SONNETS AT THE LXX* RAIN AFTER DROUGHT. BEHIND Wansfell the dry North-Easter stayed, The Firs stood silent, late in music bowed ; From out the West there came a little cloud, Soon for the flocks was pleasant moisture made : But still the sower plied his rhythmic trade, No dalliance now his precious task allowed, The yellowing lines his dusty horse had ploughed Breathed odorous breath, and took a darker shade. I wandered out in that mysterious hour ; Fragrance of praise from every bud had burst, The moss was quick, the daffodil in flower, And violets showed the bluest and the first ; I felt the pity of the passing shower, The hope in Nature's long-enduring thirst. ENGLISH LAKES. 7 1 LXXI. EARLY DEATH. THERE came upon the fields a hoary frost ; Not such the shepherd calls an Autumn dew, But such as gentlest lady's eye may view, Late rising, when the morn her prime has lost. With emerald paths the whitened meads were crost, Where warm-breathed kine their feeding did renew, And voiceless here and there a bird out-flew From silvered leaves, that tinkled and were lost. High o'er the fells uprose the unconquered sun, Back to the North the night-invaders drove, And, ere the noon, what Winter had begun Was Summer's ending in the field and grove. But, sad in ashes, tender flowers must mourn, That not for them can summer-tide return. 72 SONNETS AT THE LXXII. THE CHURCHYARD. SPOTS are there in the seasons of our mind Of warm continual Summer ; thither fly — Led by the soft sure hand of memory — For genial sun, cold words and thoughts unkind. And spots perpetual Winter you shall find, Chill, barren, silent ; thither slowlier hie Passionate thoughts, to feel the frost and die. Or flutter back upon a cooler wind. And such art thou by Brathay's rushing stream ; Winter and Summer in thy holy ground AValk hand in hand, nor sun nor snow-times cease : And if at all the world too icy seem. With love and warmth glad marriage-bells resound ; If anger stir, dear dead ones beckon peace. ENGLISH LAKES. 7 3 LXXIII. THE GREAT TIT. YOU of the jet-black head with parting grey, Grey-feathered cheek, and unassuming coat, Again I hear your quick continuous note Of friendly invitation. Peck away ! My cones have store for food for many a day. One after one let silken swathes down-float ! Let beak and eye be busy as your throat ! These staunch old Firs shall still their tribute pay. Was shrill ^'cosi," ^'cosi,'' the only word You brought from Italy last winter season ? So apt at consequence, so full of reason. Have you forgot conclusions, happy bird ? Hark ! as I ask, in Saxon from the tree Swift answer falls, '^ Come see ! come see ! come see ! '^ 74 SONNETS AT THE LXXIV. WAR NOTES IN RYDAL VALE. IN gloomy phalanx, stubborn, back to back, Beat from the field, their vantage ground they crowd — These gallant Firs, as if with sense endowed Of sudden mischief, and of fierce attack. Close at their side I hear the trigger's crack, From rifie's lip leaps out the fiery cloud, And quick the sullen targets answer proud To marksman's aim and ball's unerring track. Bitter it is that this dear vale of peace By forced suggestion so should echo war, That swift association cannot cease To bring the noise of murder from afar. When will the Firs their social message wave, And those white Targets mark the Rifle's grave ? ENGLISH LAKES. 7 5 LXXV. UP NAB SCAR, FROM RYDAL MOUNT. Winter. WE climbed above the yews upon the Scar, And all the way the Poet with us went, For still his voice sweet recollection sent, We trod his music's memory bar by bar. And here at purple even, seen afar. On mellowing skies the mountain stairway leant ^' For Spirit foot, and Fancy's free ascent ; And there he watched the ^^slowly-sinking star." f Each step we mounted seemed the music's gain. New opening vales fresh melody exprest, Of thee they sang, who so were sung by thee ; Fold after fold, as from a thinker's brain, The ash-grey ranges, crumpling to the West, Flashed thought, as out beyond them flamed the sea. * See Wordsworth's ninth ** Evening Voluntaiy," verse 3* A possible allusion to Crinkle Crags, seen from Nab Scar. t See Sonnet, *^ I watch, and long have watched, with calm regret." 76 SONNETS AT THE LXXVI, THE WHITE CROSS ON WINDERMERE. WHEN Winter's foam from off the shore is fled, Pure as a Swan against the marge is spied The little Cross, with warning far and wide Of waves that closed above the drowning head- Green summer through, and when the leaves are red Its dolorous message haunts the level tide, And like a voice that will not be denied, It claims compassion for the dear ones dead. So in our grief's deep winter, on the morrow No tears are seen, nor is there show of grief ; But when our comfort breaks to summer leaf. It does but serve as background for the sorrow, And o'er our life's dull levels, like the Cross, From noon till night-time glimmers out our loss. ENGLISH LAKES. 7 7 LXXVII. A BELFRY SERMON ON CHRISTMAS MORN IN no Church critic's high censorious mood, I still rejoice to hear the glad bells ring The Gospel tidings of the new-born King, So well their voices mingle on the flood ; For truth is such a many-sided thing, I cannot deem that all the blest and good Are gathered safe in one complacent brood Beneath a narrow Evangelic wing. And well I know the preacher there will date The end of priesthood, pomegranate, and bells, From that first Christmas — in the pulpit here, With self-same text, his office elevate. But High and Low the belfry sermon swells In one sure voice along the silent mere. 78 SONNETS AT THE LXXVIIl. HOLIDA V MAKERS ON GOOD FRIDA \\ WHEN bold Barabbas, loosed from bonds and fate, Pressed with the crowd around him out to see Him done to death, whose dying set him free, He beat his breast, his eye of murderous hate Blenched, rough in heart he felt his freedom's weight. And looking up to that accursed tree. His life seemed purchased at so dear a fee, He went back sad beneath Damascus Gate. But we, released from double gaol to-day. Prison of toil and fetters of self-will. We pass the Cross, forgetting all its pain ; As if Christ died to win us holiday, With boisterous shout the saddened vale we fill, And crucify the Crucified again. ENGLISH LAKES. 79 LXXIX* EASTER EVE. SAVIOUR, Thou sleepest in Thy charnel cave, Among the olives by the city wall, The first still Sabbath free from human call That Thou for twenty years hast willed to have ! The priests may scoff, the disputants may rave, But in Thy scented dark sepulchral hall Thou canst outsleep, yea, even the tears that fall Of friend and mother doubting by Thy grave. Dark Orrest-Head my Olivet must be ; No Olives here, no Cedron deeply run Betwixt the tomb and dark Gethsemane ; But yonder waters, waiting for the sun. Lie like the solemn weight of gathered tears. Wept for this day through centuries of years. 8o SONNETS AT THE LXXX. THE SYCAMORE AT HIGH CLOSE. NO wonder that thy shelUike buds should blush, How canst thou blindly meet another dawn Across the gleaming waters, when the fawn Fades from the fern, and green the larches flush ? How dost thou not to fan-like fairness rush. Seeing the snow's last secret is withdrawn From Wetherlam's warm bosom, and the lawn Feels the free-rooted daisy's tender push ? Thou know'st, though spring from gulfy Langdale call, And Loughrigg bribe with golden daffodils, These to the sheath no leaf can e'er restore ; Rash Fancy buds, forgetting frost that kills, But thou beside this aery cottage hall Can'st continently wait, wise Sycamore ! ENGLISH LAKES. 8 1 LXXXI. THE SNOWDROPS BY ESTHWAITE LAKE. WHEN Winter from the seaward range is gone, By Esthwaite's shore is still a field of snow ; Thousands upon ten thousand snowdrops blow In virgin sweet community as one, — Type of the peace that dwells with God alone, Emblems of angel-brotherhood below : Their beauty every village child may know From Hawkshead vale to grey-built Coniston. Pure presences ! the humblest truth's delight, Even in springtide's natural innocence. Must needs be sought, and plucked, and carried home And here old men and little children come. Glad with a common hope, to bear from hence AMiat else had never made the fell-side cottage bright 82 SONNETS AT THE LXXXII. HAWKSHEAD CHURCH. TO silent Sawrey, down the crescent vale, The Brathay bells along by Hawkshead send Then" Sabbath summons, and from end to end The snow-white farms can hear the throbbing tale ; It seems the very houses in the dale To that clear-ringing messenger attend, And throng like sheep about their shepherd friend In barren pastures, flocking to the pail. And there she sits upon the grassy mound, — The grave old Church upUfted ; at her feet The breathing roof-trees gathered close around In congregation, clamorous for meat ; While distant chimes with soft entreaty sound, ^^ ]\Iother and shepherd, give ye them to eat.'' ENGLISH LAKES. 83 LXXXIII. AN APRIL SNOWSTORM, See7i from Furness Fells. WHERE was your strength, three-buttressed mountain wall ? Had Spring no outpost high on Kirkstone Raise, That fierce on our confiding April days The North should so precipitately fall ? Sudden the day went out, the snowy squall Flung Tit and Chaffinch from the birchen sprays. Shattered the stars about the woodland ways, And quenched the Celandine's sun coronal : So have I seen on that Egyptian coast The locust darkness, as in days of old. So did they whirl aslant, a rustling host. By swept the blast, the air went deathly cold. And when from cloud dark Wetherlam stood bold, Far Coniston in blinding storm was lost. 84 SONNETS AT THE LXXXIV. YELLOW POPPIES AT WRAY CASTLE. WHOSE thoughtful hand here bade the Poppies grow, Or set the feet of these reposeful towers In the quick earth, whence teemed such golden flowers, His heart the unity of things did know. Clear unto him her face did Nature show; For though the rampart terrace fiercely glowers. It doth but hear the war of lovers' bowers. And calm and rest the yellow dreamers blow. Did these for peace and joy's assurance creep Forth from the wood to fringe the castle keep, That with its frown some gentler tliought might blend? Or is their fragile beauty so afraid, They seek — a boon by their own grace repaid — The shelter that its stately portals lend ? ENGLISH LAKES. 8 5 LXXXV. THE GRAVE OF ''OLD ROSE:'-^ HALF-CREDULOUS we hear the stories told Of Apis or of Mnevis by the Nile, We seldom think in this our land the while The English Apis gets his calves of gold ; For one Europa half a world is sold. One British Bull will buy an Indian isle ! Great painters paint, historians tell the style, And daily papers chronicle a cold. Here lies ''Old Rose,'' the faultless, docile roan, Her death was felt wherever cattle feed ; She claimed no grey sarcophagus of stone. No pictured Hieratics tell her breed ; In sons and daughters still she lives, while vv^e. Unlike our sires, forget our pedigree. * ^^The Rev. T. Staniforth's Rose of Warlaby, crippled from rheumatism, was killed and decently buried at Storrs, Sept. 12, 1880. Few cows of modern days have been better known, more admired, or more prolific. . . . Few who saw her will ever forget Old Rose." — Westmorelaiid Gazette. 86 SONA^ETS AT THE LXXXVI. THE REDSTART. THE white-foot Winter late hath taken flight, When lo, the patch of snow upon thine head I Then from the hedge thou flutterest into red, And Autumn leaps o'er Summer into sight. Prophet of change ! and wherefore hast thou spite Against unhappy May by April led ? Why only joy when leaf and snow is shed, That thus thou flickerest russet-red and white — A vision uncongenial ? Oh, forgive The haste that has thy message so misread ! Between the future and the past we live. Cold death behind, before us change and dread. They help the Summer most who show in one Ripe Autumn coming, drowsy Winter gone. ENGLISH LAKES. 87 LXXXVII. IN MEMORIAM F. A. R. Obiit. Ambleside^ December 20, 1879. TIRED out, but calm, and leaning in her chair, She waits for Death, whose feet are at the door, She smiles to think her pain will soon be o'er, And calls herself a burden and a care. An anxious foot is heard upon the stair, She takes some dainty trifle, loved of yore, And whispers, ^' Keep it, would that it were more. Of one as worthless it may hold you 'ware ! " Angels, who stand in wonder, and sustain. Tell her these gifts may perish one and all, But they who see her patience and her pain Have won from Heaven the sure memorial, That neither life nor death in her were vain. Who, daily dying, proved Death's shade could not appal. 88 SONNETS AT THE LXXXVIII. CROFT. NATURE, with their own hearts, went hand in hand, Who raised the hanging gardens, where they hear The loud congratulations all the year Of these two happy rivers, and who planned A palace on this flowery spit of land. Theirs was the calm of yon white-watered mere, For them the dark tree's mystery was clear. The grey rock's silence did they understand. They saw the streams contented were to take Their mutual beauties down to yonder lake, Haply with joy for cape, and distant keel, To lose themselves in miles of liquid plain. And felt, as souls ambitionless may feel, Life lost in others is the true life's gain. ENGLISH LAKES. 89 LXXXIX. THE CRUSADER'S TOMB, Fumes s Abbey. HE lies among the gusty chancel leaves, The storms have marred his scutcheon, bruised his sword, His arms are broke, his corslet folds are stored With moss, and winds have eaten smooth his greaves ; His eyes, deep sunk beneath their battered eaves. Are filled with tears the heedless rains have poured — But squire, or knight, or belted warrior-lord. From passers-by due honour he receives. His name is wiped from out the book of men. But still, his lips of stone give high command — In stern crusade against the wrong we stand, Our hearts the battle ground, our sword the pen. While he went forth to win the Holy Land, To clash in onset with the Saracen, 90 SONNETS AT THE xc. STOCK GHYLL AFTER A THAW. THE swollen stream's perplexity of sound Roared from the woods, and bellowed like a gale; They said the crashing water-flood would fail Before the morrow broke from underground. And shall these thunders die away in swound, Pretentious noise, a single midnight tale ! Shall this vast army marching down the vale Move on and perish at the torrent's bound ! Grudge not their swift descending, sooner free These conquering hosts their headlong way shall take, Win full possession of Wynander's lake, And pass in triumph to the restful sea. When warm life melts our nation's heart of snow, May we, through night, as swift to peace and freedom flow! ENGLISH LAKES. 91 xci. HAWKSHEAD FROM FURNESS FELLS. THE Poet was thy nurseling, here he drank His first boy thoughts of Nature and her will : How often, fresh from school, he clomb this hill, And, stretched in sun upon the heathy bank, Endowed with life the mountains, rank on rank ; Or, in the time of earliest daffodil, ^Vatched April storm the open valley fill. And drive the snow to Bow Fell's iron flank. For him the walls that shut the Western sky. From AValney Scar to Langdale's double horn. Seemed but to nerve his music's growing wing ; The sun might dip beyond the hills, and die. But, bright as day, was Fancy's deathless morn \ The lark might hush, but still his heart would sing. 92 SONNETS AT THE XCII. MOON^RISE OVER IVANS FELL. NOT yet Orion's stride we fully knew AVhen Eastward, lo ! the stars were in retreat ! Imperious, summoning all eyes to greet, Above Wansfell the Moon to beauty grew ; So near she sw^am, so bright, so close in view, We almost saw her faint old heart-pulse beat. As, making darkness darker at her feet, In train to Heaven the obsequious hill she drew. Shall she not lead the earth who draws the tide ? E'en as I spoke she reached a glittering hand Across the waters, and from side to side Was grown a raft, by mystic moonlight planned ; And o'er the tremulous bridge of gold supplied Came trooping elves of Frost, with gifts from Fairyland ENGLISH LAKES. 93 XCIIl, SPRING DA YS. THESE are the days before the Swallow dance With twittering music skims the liquid floor, When not as yet along the sombre shore The daffodils in amber thousands glance, When first the woods and uplands blush in trance, And change comes in the mountain foreheads hoar When life, bold life, victorious at the core, Stirs in each bud, and owns the Spring's advance. Autumn, with songless days and glassy lakes, Is here, high-lifted on his ivory throne Still Winter sits, — albeit his empire shakes — And Spring doth now the royal purples don ; With Summer looks the larger morning wakes, And all the seasons soften into one. 94 SONNETS AT THE xciv. THE LAURELS AT STORES. APOLLO left his isle of lute and song To serve Admetus for a single year, But when he leaves the tuneful island near, For Daphne's sake he does his stay prolong : And Orpheus roves these laurel shades among, Witness yon towering spruce beside the mere. This four-horned flock from Hades he led here, The day his love for prudence proved too strong. The Lyrist and his Master so have blessed The laurel groves, the garden, and the farm. That Squirrel lays aside his fear of harm, And comes each day to be a mortal's guest ; And Daphne still assures Apollo's charm, For, long as leaves may shine, the Delian loves her best. ENGLISH LAKES. 95 xcv. THE RIVER MESSAGE At White Moss. BACK into gold the larchen tresses swing, From off the Scar the rust of fern is fled ; But, virgin-white, the veil o'er Wansfell head Waits for its lifting by the hand of Spring. Hark ! how glad Rotha's trebles trip and sing Of dust the vermeil Alder-tassels shed, Of life renewed, which to its shallow bed The springing blades in amber sedges bring. But not alone will Rotha's sunny wave, That links the triple sisterhood to one, For me the joyous Spring-tide message have : I know that somewhere on Wynander's lake These self-same ripples to her feet may run, The self-same tidings of the Spring to take. 96 SONNETS AT THE xcvi. THE SYBIL'S GROTTO: Or Rhododendrons at Croft. SHE willed for life, her beauty had no fears, Her pride in youth's exuberance asked no more; Haggard, and shrunk, and withered to the core, She longs for death, put off a thousand years : Inexorable still, the god she hears With passionate sw^eet entreaty o'er and o'er ; Nor recks Apollo how^ she steals a store Of warmth to blossom every time he nears. Wooer, he cannot win. — The days of doom Pass, and such steadfast maidenhood to dower, About her rock-hewn sanctuary blows The Rhododendron's multitude of flower ; And with her Sybil words in every bloom, The miracle of blushes throbs and glows. ENGLISH LAKES. 97 XCVII. WILD FLOWERS ON LOUGHRIGG. GRANT me a heart, O God, to live, and love My fellows as I love this rocky moor — To feel, when most disconsolately poor, I have a daily largesse far above The gold of conquest, or the treasure-trove Of those who search Golconda ! Here the floor With liquid Amber Stars is studded o'er, And Garnets, silver-set, where'er I rove. If Mountain-Pink or Butterwort should fail, The Sundew lends me diamonds newly made That mirror all their world, to break and die And be new fashioned in an evening sky ; And, while Parnassus yields me grasses pale, I tread the flowers that haunt the classic shade. H 98 SONNETS AT THE xcviiu SONGS IN SILENCE. RydaL THE purpling Birch up yonder mountain scar Tells that the Cuckoo cannot long delay ; Though distant Langdale's back is grizzled grey With Winter storm, the Summer is not far ; And here, where late opposed in mimic war The jocund skaters flashed upon their way, While sapphire wavelets rustle at their play, The timid Ouzel dips his silvery star. What if alone I hear the yeanlings bleat, Or cry of raven through the silent air, The music, Rydal, of the heart is sweet, The song of hope, the dirge of Hfe's despair ; Great human chords thy rocks and groves repeat ; Here Wordsworth sang, and Coleridge mourned forth there. ENGLISH LAKES. 99 xcix, YE WD ALE CRAGS. AGAIN above the Windy Pass ^^ I stood, I heard the Arabs cry, the camels groan, Down the rock-avenue Jehovah's throne Rose stark in all its barren lonelihood ; Here Moses spake, there hushed the multitude. By yonder cleft the Lawgiver came down ; Thick on this stream the idol's dust w^as strown. While robed wath cloud did One in pity brood. Rise, Yewdale, rise, upon thy heights in thunder With smoke and fire the clarion tempest Avakes ! Bright as the sun, with sapphire pavement under, God from thy steep His revelation makes — *'The earth is mine.'^ Though all the people w^onder, Forth from thy crags the glorious Message breaks. * The pass by which travellers approach Mount Sinai is known as Nagb Hawi, or the Pass of the Winds, 100 SONNETS AT THE c. AT YE WD ALE FARM. WE need no pillars built beneath the hill,^' These close-trimmed Yew trees, each an altar heap Of green immortal offerings, shall keep Our hearts in fee, our memories grateful still. Plain of the Hand, f where sowers ply their skill, And plenteous rain gives pasture to the sheep ; Bid by no threat from off the mountain steep Of England's Sinai, flocks may feed at will. But if this miniature of Israel's shrine, % 'Reft of its arid awful dignity, No more proclaims a God of Fear, but Love ; Still veiled in cloud He answers from above, And, lit from Heaven, their faces only shine Who through the deserts lead men forth from slavery. ^ Exodus xxiv. 4. + An allusion to Er Rahah, the Plain of the Hand, before Mount Sinai. X The Eastern traveller will be at once struck by the re- semblance of the Yewdale Crags to the Ras Siifsafeh, or Willow Peak, of Mount Sinai. ENGLISH LAKES. loi CI. POPLARS AT THE FRIENDS' MEETING HOUSE, Colthouse. HEAVEN helped a well-considered choice, and blest « These sapling sisters with the growth of years ; And, when the simple, silent worshippers Are met, expectant of their Spirit-Guest, A free wind floats unseen from out the West In symbol of His coming ; each one hears High message from the leafy whisperers, By Poplar lips the meeting is addressed There, as they listen, they can call to mind How once the rushing of a mighty Wind Filled a poor room, and set a world on fire : They wait the breath of Heaven ; then, free of tongue, Soft as the gentle leaves so lightly hung, Utter, as each is moved, their soul's desire. I02 SONNETS AT THE CII. BOWFELL. BOWFELL, whene'er I see thee lifted sheer— Thy castled height above the silver haze, Again from Edom's rolling downs I gaze, And, though a People's lamentation drear Wails from abyssmal gorges, God is near : Aside the dying priest his vesture lays. ^^ The Night has come, but also come the Days ! " So cries the watchman from the cliffs of Seir. Hor, among English mountains, if the hope That flickered down through faithless Ithamar Glowed in the dust of Amram's eldest-born, Lo, from the ashes of thy fiery morn, Thyself a whole burnt-offering, springs the star Of God with Man, and Shepherds climb thy slope. ENGLISH LAKES. 1 03 cm. THE CAVE AT WHITE MOSS. FROM no Cassotis' well the vapours rise To fire the lips or drench the Pythian's brain, No Sybil chides the wind that makes in vain Her yet unread, leaf-written prophecies. But they who for this grotto leave the skies, See in its sculptured hall engraven plain A truer oracle, and learn the strain Wherewith the sea-floors into mountains rise. In fancy they uprouse the wolf, the boar,"^*' Or that huge-antlered elk, f from Duddon strayed, And, issuing from the cavern's mystic shade. They find the world is fresher than before j The day they know seems but a moment made, An older sunlight plays on Rydal's infant shore. * The wild boar, Grise, or Greese (hence Grisedale, Gras- mere) seemed to have remained in these parts till about the thirteenth century. t The Segh, or Scofe-stag, a species of Irish elk, was a native of the Furness district, as is evidenced by the heads of these animals found in that neighbourhood. Three huge antlered heads were taken up in the Duddon sands in the year 1766. — Cf. West's Antiquities of Furness^ page 41. I04 SONNETS AT THE CIV. STONE ARTHUR. FATHER of English Heroes, Knight of knights, Here Arthur sat, Pendragon newly made : Not April, with its chase of sun and shade. More swift of mood ; nor up the sunny heights, More full of blossoming, happy, pure delights, The white-heart May. Then to his Squire he said, *' Break me a helmet-plume of Thorn, and braid *' Its likeness in the banner of my fights ; *' And when we meet for court at Mayburgh Mound, *' Spite turned to Balm, this flower shall there be worn; ^' Or when we joust at Penrith's circle round, '' High o'er the lists its emblem shall be borne. ^' Who wins the bloom of Knighthood dares the wound : *^One greater bare, without the flower, the Thorn. '^ ENGLISH LAKES. 105 HEL VEIL YN. THEY climb Parnassus who these heights explore, Whether they find, ascending from the West, Where Sandal melts to Fairfield, deep recessed, Stern Delphi's theatre and ruins hoar Beneath the three-lipped tarn, whose waters pour Libation to the sunrise — or, impressed Almost to fear, pass upward to the crest, Led by Castalia sounding on before : For there, high-lifted, with perpetual frown, Helvellyn rears his double-peaked head. And right in front of his embracing hands A mountain altar to Apollo stands Asmoke with cloud, fire-black, and wondrous Dread Sits with the god who sends the music down. io6 SONNETS AT THE cvi. THE LEVEN, AND RHODODENDRONS AT LAKE-SIDE. HOW fair, at first, by lawn and blossoming brake, The Leven brims with liquid Amethyst ! How soon in headstrong youth it doth enlist What natural haste the sloping meadows make, And foams a lusty cataract ! Years overtake Its folly ; now by bitter sea waves kissed, Renouncing still, it still renews the tryst, Then backward swirls in vain to seek the lake. The Rhododendrons that adorned its birth, And gave their beauty with a generous mind. To celebrate its early innocent day, — They wait the clouds that steal from Morecambe Bay, And, after all the Leven's wandering, find Its grateful spirit come again to earth. ENGLISH LAKES. i o 7 CVII. JULY AT THE LAKES, CLAD in her ferny green from head to feet, Queen for a single moontime, comes along July, — half jealous, stills the thicket's song, And bids the cuckoo's voice no more repeat Its herald echo ; hushes every bleat Where on the fells with milkier fleeces throng The careless dams ; yet ties she not the tongue Of brooks by dripping meads and drenched wheat. And in her hand she bears the red new leaf Of Oak and Beech, with those vermilion keys The Sycamore hangs out, and from the leas Foxglove and purple Betony ; but chief Where the large scythe the northern mowers wield Mounds its green waves, she haunts the daisied field io8 SONNETS AT THE CVIII* AUGUST AT THE LAKES. WITHOUT the Cuckoo, April comes again, Fresh gleam the vales, ghylls whiten far away^ Where Roses danced now blooms the bramble spray, And Rowan berries take a russet stain ; Lanes long disused re-echo with the wain. While, as if second youth had bade them play. With dexterous hand the dalesmen toss the hay, Or mound it close against the morrow's rain. Now for belated lovers flutter white Wild Raspberry leaves and pale Valerian In dusky roads, where cool night breezes stir. When hedgehogs cry and soft-winged fern-owls chirr : Now lakes at morn are ruffled gold, and wan. And blue hills move all day at most uncertain height ENGLISH LAKES. 1 09 cix. THE NORTHERN NIGHTINGALE. On hearing a Ballad sung in the North Country dialect by A. M. W. HAVE Sedgwick's woods reached out a tender hand And bid thee, southern-voiced one, hither fare, That thus, when tarns are frozen, trees are bare, Thou warmest with song our wintry Westmorland ? Or, first, brave leader of the choral band, Did'st thou across accustomed borders dare The barren interspace of midland air. To find blue hills by Attic skies o'erspanned ? Stay with us ! honey-throated Philomel With passionate tale of woe enchantment makes, Albeit she sorrow in an alien tongue ; But thou, light-hearted haunter of the Lakes, In native phrase fresh gathered from the fell Sweetenest the songs our shepherd fathers sung. no SONNETS AT THE ex. SUNSET AND THE WESTMORLAND EMIGRANT. ROUND and around, with anxious questioning look, The collie ran as if a loss were near, From the lake meadow called the favourite steer, The larches moaned, and loudly grieved the brook. Then once again from out the chimney nook Did Richard take the yokes he used to wear, And strove to borrow momentary cheer From handling of his flail and polished crook. He left the farm, he passed the bleating fold. He durst not think farewell, so closely pressed The tear to drown his last long gaze, but bold He strode from home, for over Langdale's crest. Beyond his own grey hills, new worlds of gold And lands of glory brightened in the West ENGLISH LAKES. 1 1 1 *i> CXI. FURNESS ABBEY. WHEN Murder walks with Mockery hand in hand, Religion, sister to Reflection pale, Steals from her haunt, deserts the cloistered vale, And student Quietude is scared and banned. Old Furness, though the gardener's cunning hand May trim thy lawn, and bid thy roses trail, The engine snorts along the noisy rail, And mars the make-believe of Peace he planned Though still the close-leaved Sycamores enshrine What else of silence these intruders leave, Girls lightly laugh where sad Cistercians strolled, And streams, too full of pity to deceive, Tell out the tale of rapine, greed of gold, And run ensanguined from the neighbouring mine. 112 SONNETS AT THE CXII. AT KING HENRY'S CHAPEL, MUNCASTER.'' Autumn. WHERE Esk in curves and coils of moony light Gleams in the vale and passes to the sea, They tell how royal Henry once did flee, A crownless king, from Hexham's bloody fight, And how rude shepherds, on a Summer night, Found and conveyed him where on royal knee Stout Pennington did pledge his own roof-tree As safety, till the Red Rose had the right. If morn had brought to that unhappy king Vision of stately trees enleaved with gold, Or half the beauteous calm mine eyes behold, Sure it had been a sad awakening — Such reminiscence of his golden state. And he, discrowned, forsaken, desolate ! *It is said that Henry VI., after the Battle of Hexham, on 15th May, 1464, was met in his flight by some shepherds in Eskdale, near to the site of the present chapel, and conducted by them to the Castle, then the seat of Sir John Pennington, The celebrated cup called ^' The Luck of Muncaster," was on that occasion left by the king in acknowledgment of loyal hospitality. ENGLISH LAKES. 1 1 3 CXIII. THE RUNIC CROSS IN GOSFORTH CHURCHYARD. HO first named Christ in these rude villages — Northmen or Danes — had run their boats ashore, Had changed for huntsman's bow the bending oar. Salt barren furrows for the fruitful leas. But still their sailor-hearts were on the seas ; And when they raised Faith's standard here of yore, A ship-mast semblance well the symbol bore, AVith tale of storm and rough sea messages. Nor careless did those sailor-huntsmen grave Their picture life in long-forgotten runes, The Hart, the Hare, the Cable, and the Wave That beat out west beyond the yellow dunes ; And high upon the mast no storm could toss — They set that sign of endless calm, the Cross. 114 SONNETS AT THE cxiv. ESKMEALS. The Love of Nature daily Food. 0H5 joy, where sea and river waters meet, To watch how swift the wading Dottrels ply Their rosy stilts in pools of bluest sky ; To hear cool sprinklings from their dainty feet ! To lean and listen to the flutings sweet Of Sandpiper, or sad-voiced Plover's cry, While the grave Heron at his fishery Gleams like a silver sickle through the heat ! Blest be the tide that bared these tawny shelves For such a world of food and innocent play ! Man, weary man, with sorrow digs and delves, But is not glad in winning bread, as they Who wait on God, and, careless of themselves, Take that which Nature else had thrown away. ENGLISH LAKES. 1 1 5. cxv. THE OLD WRECK AT SEASCALE. WEIGHED down, in utter helplessness it lies, Whose buoyant youth was lighter than the wave, Each tide the robber-storms unseal its grave, And of its bones the sea makes merchandise. Led by the Moon sea-waters sympathize ; E'en hands that snatch, some sense of pity have. Deeper in sand each day, the boon they crave — Its sorrows sink from out the seaman's eyes. So may it be when storms my life shall strand On treacherous shoal or disappointment's reef. May the same wind that drove my hull to land Break up my being far beyond relief, And waves that wrecked reach out a pitying hand To gulf my sorrow, and to hide my grief. ii6 SONNETS AT THE cxvi* THE TOWER ON THE HO AD, ULVERSTON ^ LOOK from thy tower — strong wish we mortals have That deeds should be remembered after death — Look forth and tell the listening lands beneath, From torchy Furness to the charnel cave Of Heysham's cliff, that since the Leven's wave With confluent Craik at tide-time held its breath, And halted up the vale, no surer wreath Than duty honoured, can outlive the grave ! If hence no rosy star at sunset gleam To guide the keel that beats from shoal to shoal, And cheer the sailor on his lonely road. White as thy tower, high-lifted still must beam The lamp that lit thee, Barrow, to thy goal, A Nation's Honour on thy native Hoad. * The iight-house-looking monument upon the Hoad Hill at Ulverston was erected to the memory of Sir John Barrow, a native of that town, for many years Secretary to the Admiralty. ENGLISH LAKES. 1 1 7 cxvii. THE COTTAGE WINDOW AT SUNSET. WHEN I am weary-hearted, overthrown, And feel my life's real insignificance, I wonder how on any sudden chance Through me God's purpose ever can be knoAvn, Then, as the grey mist gathers o'er the town, On Birkrigg Fell I see a window glance, x\nd, like a star new fallen from its dance. It burns and brightens till the sun drops down — Some miner's cot set careless on the hill. That never dreamed its windoAv so should burn, Should flash such royal message back from Heaven Face thou the sun, faint heart, and stand thou still ! God's level light may strike on thee in turn, And glorious help to distant eyes be given. I 2 ii8 SONNETS AT THE CXVIII. THE VALLEY OF THE LUNE. From Liuiejield. F northern valleys in luxuriant June, For English eyes no fairer vale I know Than where the Oak and Ash together throw Abundant shadow by the banks of Lune ; There race the fillies, there at lazy noon The lambs make sport, kine musically low, And where the swallows skim, with southward flow The yellov/ freshets chime their river-tune. There, larger-limbed, the shepherd plies the games At shearing time, and, as he drives the sheep Back to the cloud-empurpled Yorkshire fells. His rough hands full of Canterbury Bells, He sees by stately lawn and towery steep A silver vision of the royal Thames. ENGLISH LAKES. 1 1 9 cxix. HOME. T was a lustrous morning, child of May, The sparkling suns ran dancing down the oar. The Blackbird's whistle called my boat ashore, And croon of Dove came meeting me half-way. The stammering Cuckoo bid me this side stay, From that side still the Dove-voice did implore ; But one sure welcome echoed more and more — A mother laughing with her babe at play. Close to the marge the gracious Spring had come With Globe-flower sceptre, star-like Mary-bud To bid me back; the Bracken reached its hand Fresh from the earth. By lane and hazel wood. Through Bluebell mist, the Sweet Gale's breath was fanned, And those unbending Firs made whisper, '^ Welcome home ! '' T20 VALEDICTORY. O^ little book^ God lend thy readers grace To 7visely praise^ 7vith justice to contemn ; WJio kno7>vs hut some more unpretentious gem^ Unfit to sparkle in my ladfs lace^ Afay clasp a plaid^ or fill a humbler place : The rainlunv fiires from out the diadem^ That glint along the acto7'''s tinselled hem^ Tu7'nfor their gifts to some diviner face : Thy face it was^ dear land of lakes and rills ^ Chameleon watei'S^ ever-changing sky^ Of bright tarn lustres burning in the hills ^ Afid juountains hung with streamlet jeiuelrv^ That bid me hope thy kindly light luould shine^ And flash the life to these poor gems of mine. NOTES. Sonnet VII. — ^^ The Haunted Hall at Calgahth. »> In the window of the staircase which leads to the Oak room of old Calgarth Hall, tradition has localised the legend of the skulls of Calgarth. Report goes that all attempts to dispossess these skulls of their favourite niche failed. Buried, burnt, reduced to powder, sunk in the lake, they so constantly returned that, as a last resource, they were walled up in their favourite haunt. The story runs that Calgarth (in old Norse Kalgarde, a vegetable garden), belonged to a humble yeoman, Kraster Cook, and his wife Dorothy. Myles Philipson, a wealthy magistrate in the neighbourhood, coveted the garden plot, and wished to add it to his estate, but could not induce the possessors to part with their inheritance. He determined to obtain his ends by fair means or foul, and to that purpose either sent them as a Christmas present, or, as is also affirmed, bade them take home from a Christmas party to which they had been invited, a pie in which some family plate had been previously concealed. The articles being missed search was made, and sure enough the silver valuables were found in Kraster Cook's cottage. They were accused of theft. The ofifence was capital in those days ; besides, a magistrate had been robbed. The innocent couple were tried, convicted, and sentenced to death. In the court-room Dorothy rose, as sentence was passed, and cried, ^ ^ Guard thyself, Myles Philipson ; thou may'st think thou hast managed grandly, but that tiny plot of garden ground is the dearest a Philipson has ever bought ; neither you nor your breed will prosper, the side you take will lose, all your schemes will fail, the time shall come no Philipson 122 NOTES. shall own an acre of land ; and while the Calgarth walls stand we'll haunt it night and day." Brought up for execution they bade the chaplain read the 109th Psalm. Its curses, so tradition says, have been in all literal- ness fulfilled. The Philipsons are no more ; and the skulls of Kraster and Dorothy now wait only the falling of the Old Calgarth roof-tree. Sonnet X. — ^^From Fox How. >> The Death of Dr. Arnold. — *^ One more act, the last before he retired that night, remains to be recorded, the last entry in his diary, which was not known or seen till the next morning, when it was discovered by those to whom every word bore a weight of meaning, wdiich he who wrote it had but little anticipated : — '^ ' Saturday Evening, nth June. — The day after to-morrow is my birthday ; if I am permitted to live to see it, my forty- seventh birthday since my birth. How large a portion of my life on earth is already passed. And then what is to follow this life ? How visibly my outward work seems contracting and softening away into the gentler employments of old age. In one sense how nearly can I now say, Vixi. And I thank God that, as far as ambition is concerned, it is, I trust, fully mortified ; I have no desire other than to step back from my present place in the world, and not to rise to a higher. Still there are works which, with God's permission, I would do before the night cometh ; especially that great work of improving the intellectual management of Rugby, if I might be permitted to take part in it. But, above all, let me mind my own personal work — to keep myself pure, and zealous, and believing — labouring to do God's will, yet not anxious that it should be done by me rather than by others, if God disapproves of my doing it.' " — Dea7i Stanley^ s Scripture Tor traits^ p. 379. NOTES. 123 Sonnet XXVIIL— ^^The Crier of Claife." The rocky islet on Windermere, called St. Mary's, or Ladye's Holme, and described in Wordsworth's Prelude as — A third small island where survived In solitude the ruins of a shrine ; Once to our Lady dedicate, and served Daily with chaunted rites, from the copy of an inquisition, taken at Kendal, on the Monday after the Feast of the Annunciation, in the 28th year of Edward III., is shown to have appertained at that time to the house of Segden in Scotland, which said house was bound always to provide two resident chaplains for the service of our Ladye's Chapel in this island solitude. But the chapel, not improbably, was founded by the pious Ingelran de Guignes, Sieur de Courci, who married, in 1285, Christiana, the last heiress of the great Scotch family of Lyndsey. He became by this marriage Lord of the Fee in which St. Mary's Holme is situate. A feudal lord in Scotland and England, his haughty motto tells us he came of a race of French peers whose power and independence must have been as acknowledged as it was proverbial ; the motto — Je ne suis Roy ni Prince aussi, Je suis le Seignior de Courci, speaks for itself. The curious name. Crier of Claife, is now given to a tract of wood and disused slate-quarry on the high ground of Furness Fell that overlooks Windermere, between Latterbarrow and the ferry. It is certain that with the wind in a particular direction, the wooded cliff is so resonant as to give back giant cries as of moan- ing and distress. Whether this be the origin or not of the legend, the story goes that the Crier of Claife, though once exorcised and laid, *^ as long as ivy should be green," by the priests from the chapel on Lady Holme, has power, at times, to escape from his bonds, and issues from his prison on the heights, to cry for a boat 124 NOTES. through the darkness, to the boatman at the Ferry Nab. So like a human cry is the voice of this demon, so piteous his entreaty, that on one bitter winter night the kindly ferryman put off from the further shore in response to the call. He was absent a longer time than usual, and on his return was pale, shook with apparent fear, and could give no account of himself. From that day he became gloomy in spirit, and died a madman. He had seen, it was said, the Crier of Claife. It is reported that none of the country people will go near the slate-quarries after nightfall, and few care to chance meeting the Crier there even in daytime. I. E. Chillcott, Steam Press, Clare Street, Bristol. .1