CONTENTS.
ISLE OF PALMS.
Page.
Canto I. [1]
Canto II. [41]
Canto III. [75]
Canto IV. [139]
Angler's Tent [181]
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.
Hermitage [223]
Lines on Reading the Memoirs of Miss Smith [234]
Hymn to Spring [246]
Melrose Abbey [257]
Extract from the "Hearth" [264]
The French Exile [269]
The Three Seasons of Love [277]
To a Sleeping Child [280]
My Cottage [290]
Lines written on the Banks of Windermere, after Recovery from a dangerous Illness [304]
Apology for the little Naval Temple on Storrs' Point, Windermere [312]
Picture of a Blind Man [317]
Troutbeck Chapel [323]
Peace and Innocence [329]
Loughrig Tarn [333]
Mary [340]
Lines written at a little Well by the Roadside, Langdale [345]
Lines written on seeing a Picture by Berghem, of an Ass in a Storm-Shower [351]
On Reading Mr. Clarkson's History of the Abolition of the Slave Trade [357]
The Fallen Oak [362]
Nature Outraged [366]
Lines written by Moonlight at Sea [378]
The Nameless Stream [380]
Art and Nature [385]
Sonnet I.—Written on the Banks of Wastwater, during a Storm [388]
Sonnet II.—Written on the Banks of Wastwater, during a Calm [389]
Sonnet III.—Written at Midnight, on Helm-Crag [390]
Sonnet IV.—The Voice of the Mountains [391]
Sonnet V.—The Evening-Cloud [392]
Sonnet VI.—Written on the Sabbath-Day [393]
Sonnet VII.—Written on Skiddaw, during a Tempest [394]
Sonnet VIII. [395]
Sonnet IX.—Written on the Evening I heard of the Death of my Friend, William Dunlop [396]
Lines sacred to the Memory of The Rev. James Grahame, Author of "The Sabbath," &c. [397]
THE ISLE OF PALMS.
CANTO FIRST.
It is the midnight hour:—the beauteous Sea,
Calm as the cloudless heaven, the heaven discloses,
While many a sparkling star, in quiet glee,
Far down within the watery sky reposes.
As if the Ocean's heart were stirr'd
With inward life, a sound is heard,
Like that of dreamer murmuring in his sleep;
'Tis partly the billow, and partly the air,
That lies like a garment floating fair
Above the happy Deep.
The sea, I ween, cannot be fann'd
By evening freshness from the land,
For the land it is far away;
But God hath will'd that the sky-born breeze
In the centre of the loneliest seas
Should ever sport and play.
The mighty Moon she sits above,
Encircled with a zone of love,
A zone of dim and tender light
That makes her wakeful eye more bright:
She seems to shine with a sunny ray,
And the night looks like a mellow'd day!
The gracious Mistress of the Main
Hath now an undisturbed reign,
And from her silent throne looks down,
As upon children of her own,
On the waves that lend their gentle breast
In gladness for her couch of rest!
My spirit sleeps amid the calm
The sleep of a new delight;
And hopes that she ne'er may awake again,
But for ever hang o'er the lovely main,
And adore the lovely night.
Scarce conscious of an earthly frame,
She glides away like a lambent flame,
And in her bliss she sings;
Now touching softly the Ocean's breast,
Now mid the stars she lies at rest,
As if she sail'd on wings!
Now bold as the brightest star that glows
More brightly since at first it rose,
Looks down on the far-off flood,
And there all breathless and alone,
As the sky where she soars were a world of her own,
She mocketh the gentle Mighty One
As he lies in his quiet mood.
"Art thou," she breathes, "the Tyrant grim
That scoffs at human prayers,
Answering with prouder roaring the while,
As it rises from some lonely isle,
Through groans raised wild, the hopeless hymn
Of shipwreck'd mariners?
Oh! Thou art harmless as a child
Weary with joy, and reconciled
For sleep to change its play;
And now that night hath stay'd thy race,
Smiles wander o'er thy placid face
As if thy dreams were gay."—