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And mineral crown, beside his jagged urn
IN the vale of Grasmere, by the side of the old highway leading to Ambleside, is a gate which, time out of mind, has been called the Wishing-gate, from a belief that wishes formed or indulged there have a favorable issue.
HOPE rules a land forever green:
All powers that serve the bright-eyed queen
Clouds at her bidding disappear;
Not such the land of Wishes, — there
How poor, were human life!
When magic lore abjured its might,
One tender claim abate;
Inquire not if the faery race
Or here a saint expired.
Enough that all around is fair,
Yea! even the stranger from afar,
Unknowing and unknown, The infection of the ground partakes, Longing for his beloved, who makes All happiness her own.
Then why should conscious spirits fear
The local genius ne'er befriends
Desires whose course in folly ends,
Smile if thou wilt, but not in scorn,
A broken vow, or bind a truc
And not in vain, when thoughts are cast Upon the irrevocable past,
Some penitent sincere
May for a worthier future sigh,
The worldling, pining to be freed
Might stop before this favored scene,
The sage, who feels how blind, how weak
Or when the church-clock's knell profound
WRITTEN AT GRASMERE, ON TIDINGS OF THE APPROACHING DEATH OF CHARLES JAMES FOX.
OUD is the Vale! the voice is up
With which she speaks when storms are gone, A mighty unison of streams!
Of all her voices, one!
Loud is the Vale! this inland depth
In peace is roaring like the sea;
Sad was I, even to pain deprest,
The Comforter hath found me here,
And many thousands now are sad,
A power is passing from the earth
That man, who is from God sent forth,
A REMEMBRANCE OF GRASMERE.
VALE and lake, within your mountain urn Smiling so tranquilly, and set so deep! Oft doth your dreamy loveliness return, Coloring the tender shadows of my sleep With light Elysian; for the hues that steep Your shores in melting lustre seem to float On golden clouds from spirit-lands remote, Isles of the blest, and in our memory keep Their place with holiest harmonies. Fair scene, Most loved by evening and her dewy star! O, ne'er may man, with touch unhallowed, jar The perfect music of thy charm serene! Still, still unchanged, may one sweet region wear Smiles that subdue the soul to love and tears and