Yet, though the fulness of domestic joy
Bless our united beings, and the home
Be ever happy where thy smiles are seen,
Though human voice might never touch our ear
From lip of friend or brother;—yet, oh! think
What pure benevolence will warm our hearts,
When with the undelaying steps of love
Through you o'ershadowing wood we dimly see
A coming friend, far distant then believed,
And all unlook'd-for. When the short distrust
Of unexpected joy no more constrains,
And the eye's welcome brings him to our arms,
With gladden'd spirit he will quickly own
That true love ne'er was selfish, and that man
Ne'er knew the whole affection of his heart
Till resting on another's. If from scenes
Of noisy life he come, and in his soul
The love of Nature, like a long-past dream,
If e'er it stir, yield but a dim delight,
Oh! we shall lead him where the genial power
Of beauty, working by the wavy green
Of hill-ascending wood, the misty gleam
Of lakes reposing in their peaceful vales,
And, lovelier than the loveliness below,
The moonlight Heaven, shall to his blood restore
An undisturbed flow, such as he felt
Pervade his being, morning, noon, and night,
When youth's bright years pass'd happily away,
Among his native hills, and all he knew
Of crowded cities, was from passing tale
Of traveller, half-believed, and soon forgotten.
And fear not, Mary! that, when winter comes,
These solitary mountains will resign
The beauty that pervades their mighty frames,
Even like a living soul. The gleams of light
Hurrying in joyful tumult o'er the cliffs,
And giving to our musings many a burst
Of sudden grandeur, even as if the eye
Of God were wandering o'er the lovely wild,
Pleased with his own creation;—the still joy
Of cloudless skies; and the delighted voice
Of hymning fountains,—these will leave awhile
The altered earth:—But other attributes
Of Nature's heart will rule, and in the storm
We shall behold the same prevailing Power
That slumbers in the calm, and sanctify,
With adoration, the delight of love.
*...*...*...*
I lift my eyes upon the radiant Moon,
That long unnoticed o'er my head has held
Her solitary walk, and as her light
Recals my wandering soul, I start to feel
That all has been a dream. Alone I stand
Amid the silence. Onward rolls the stream
Of time, while to my ear its waters sound
With a strange rushing music. O my soul!
Whate'er betide, for aye remember thou
These mystic warnings, for they are of Heaven.
LINES
WRITTEN ON THE BANKS OF WINDERMERE, ON RECOVERY FROM A DANGEROUS ILLNESS.
Once more, dear Lake! along thy banks I rove,
And bless thee in my heart that flows with love.
Methinks, as life's awakening embers burn,
Nature rejoices in her son's return;
And, like a parent after absence long,
Sings from her heart of hearts a chearful song.
Oh! that fresh breeze through all my being stole,
And made sweet music in my gladden'd soul!
To me just rescued from the opening grave,
How bright the radiance of the dancing wave!
A gleam of joy, a soft endearing smile,
Plays 'mid the greenness of each sylvan isle,
And, in the bounty of affection, showers
A loving welcome o'er these blissful bowers.
Quick glides the hymning streamlet, to partake
The deep enjoyment of the happy lake;
The pebbles, sparkling through the yellow brook,
Seem to my gaze to wear a livelier look;
And little wild-flowers, that in careless health
Lay round my path in unregarded wealth,
In laughing beauty court my eyes again,
Like friends unchanged by coldness or disdain.
Now life and joy are one:—to Earth, Air, Heaven,
An undisturbed jubilee is given;
While, happy as in dreams, I seem to fly,
Skimming the ground, or soaring through the sky,
And feel, with sudden life-pervading glee,
As if this rapture all were made for me.
And well the glory to my soul is known;
For mystic visions stamped it as my own.
While sickness lay, like ice, upon my breath,
With eye prophetic, through the shades of death
That brooded o'er me like a dreary night,
This beauteous scene I saw in living light.
No friend was near me: and a heavy gloom
Lay in deep silence o'er the lonely room;
Even hope had fled; and as in parting strife
My soul stood trembling on the brink of life,—
When lo! sweet sounds, like those that now I hear,
Of stream and zephyr stole into my ear.
Far through my heart the mingled music ran,
Like tones of mercy to a dying man.
Rejoicing in the rosy morning's birth,
Like new-waked beauty lay the dewy earth;
The mighty sun I saw, as now I see,
And my soul shone with kindred majesty:
Calm smiled the Lake; and from that smile arose
Faith, hope, and trust, oblivion of my woes:
I felt that I should live; nor could despair
Bedim a scene so glorious, and so fair.