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XVI.

PRELUDE,

66

PREFIXED TO THE VOLUME ENTITLED POEMS CHIEFLY OF EARLY AND LATE YEARS."

In desultory walk through orchard grounds,

Or some deep chestnut grove, oft have I paused
The while a Thrush, urged rather than restrained
By gusts of vernal storm, attuned his song
To his own genial instincts; and was heard
(Though not without some plaintive tones between)
To utter, above showers of blossom swept
From tossing boughs, the promise of a calm,
Which the unsheltered traveller might receive
With thankful spirit. The descant, and the wind
That seemed to play with it in love or scorn,
Encouraged and endeared the strain of words
That haply flowed from me, by fits of silence
Impelled to livelier pace. But now, my Book!
Charged with those lays, and others of like mood,
Or loftier pitch if higher rose the theme,
Go, single, yet aspiring to be joined
With thy Forerunners that through many a year
Have faithfully prepared each other's way, -
Go forth upon a mission best fulfilled

When and wherever, in this changeful world,
Power hath been given to please for higher ends
Than pleasure only; gladdening to prepare

For wholesome sadness, troubling to refine,
Calming to raise; and, by a sapient Art
Diffused through all the mysteries of our Being,
Softening the toils and pains that have not ceased
To cast their shadows on our mother Earth
Since the primeval doom. Such is the grace
Which, though unsued for, fails not to descend
With heavenly inspiration; such the aim
That Reason dictates; and, as even the wish
Has virtue in it, why should hope to me
Be wanting, that sometimes, where fancied ills
Harass the mind and strip from off the bowers
Of private life their natural pleasantness,
A Voice - devoted to the love whose seeds
Are sown in every human breast, to beauty
Lodged within compass of the humblest sight,
To cheerful intercourse with wood and field,
And sympathy with man's substantial griefs -
Will not be heard in vain? And in those days
When unforeseen distress spreads far and wide
Among a People mournfully cast down,
Or into anger roused by venal words
In recklessness flung out to overturn
The judgment, and divert the general heart
From mutual good, some strain of thine, my

Book!

Caught at propitious intervals, may win
Listeners who not unwillingly admit
Kindly emotion tending to console

And reconcile; and both with young and old

Exalt the sense of thoughtful gratitude
For benefits that still survive, by faith
In progress, under laws divine, maintained.

RYDAL MOUNT, March 26, 1842.

XVII.

TO A CHILD.

WRITTEN IN HER ALBUM.

SMALL service is true service while it lasts :

Of humblest Friends, bright Creature! scorn not

one:

The Daisy, by the shadow that it casts,
Protects the lingering dew-drop from the Sun.

1834.

XVIII.

LINES

WRITTEN IN THE ALBUM OF THE COUNTESS OF LONSDALE.
NOV. 5, 1834.

LADY! a Pen (perhaps with thy regard,
Among the Favored, favored not the least)

Left, 'mid the Records of this Book inscribed,
Deliberate traces, registers of thought

And feeling, suited to the place and time

That gave them birth : - months passed, and still

this hand,

That had not been too timid to imprint
Words which the virtues of thy Lord inspired,
Was yet not bold enough to write of thee.
And why that scrupulous reserve? In sooth,
The blameless cause lay in the Theme itself.
Flowers are there many that delight to strive
With the sharp wind, and seem to court the shower,
Yet are by nature careless of the sun
Whether he shine on them or not; and some,
Where'er he moves along the unclouded sky,
Turn a broad front full on his fluttering beams:
Others do rather from their notice shrink,
Loving the dewy shade, - a humble band,
Modest and sweet, a progeny of earth,
Congenial with thy mind and character,
High-born Augusta!

Witness Towers, and Groves!

And thou, wild Stream, that giv'st the honored

name

Of Lowther to this ancient Line, bear witness
From thy most secret haunts; and ye Parterres,
Which She is pleased and proud to call her own,
Witness how oft upon my noble Friend
Mute offerings, tribute from an inward sense
Of admiration and respectful love,

Have waited, till the affections could no more
Endure that silence, and broke out in song

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Snatches of music taken up and dropped,
Like those self-solacing, those under notes
Trilled by the redbreast, when autumnal leaves
Are thin upon the bough. Mine, only mine,
The pleasure was, and no one heard the praise,
Checked, in the moment of its issue, checked
And reprehended, by a fancied blush
From the pure qualities that called it forth.

Thus Virtue lives debarred from Virtue's meed; Thus, Lady, is retiredness a veil, That, while it only spreads a softening charm O'er features looked at by discerning eyes, Hides half their beauty from the common gaze; And thus, even on the exposed and breezy hill Of lofty station, female goodness walks, When side by side with lunar gentleness, As in a cloister. Yet the grateful Poor (Such the immunities of low estate, Plain Nature's enviable privilege, Her sacred recompense for my wants) Open their hearts before Thee, pouring out All that they think and feel, with tears of joy, And benedictions not unheard in heaven: And friend in the ear of friend, where speech is free To follow truth, is eloquent as they.

Then let the Book receive in these prompt lines A just memorial; and thine eyes consent To read that they, who mark thy course, behold

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