This is feebly and imperfectly expressed, but I recollect distinctly the very spot where this first struck me. It was on the way between Hawkshead and Ambleside, and gave me extreme pleasure. The moment was important in my poetical history; for I date from it my consciousness of the infinite variety of natural appearances which had been unnoticed by the poets of any age or country, so far as I was acquainted with them; and I made a resolution to supply in some degree the deficiency. I could not have been at that time above fourteen years of age. The description of the swans that follows was taken from the daily opportunities I had of observing their habits, not as confined to the gentleman's park, but in a state of nature. There were two pairs of them that divided the lake of Esthwaite, and its in-and-out flowing streams, between them, never trespassing a single yard upon each other's separate domain. They were of the old magnificent species, bearing in beauty and majesty about the same relation to the Thames swan which that does to the goose. It was from the remembrance of those noble creatures, I took, thirty years after, the picture of the swan which I have discarded from the poem of Dion. While I was a schoolboy, the late Mr Curwen introduced a little fleet of these birds, but of the inferior species, to the lake of Windermere. Their principal home was about his own island; but they sailed about into remote parts of the lake, and either from real or imagined injury done to the adjoining fields, they were got rid of at the request of the farmers and proprietors, but to the great regret of all who had become attached to them from noticing their beauty and quiet habits. I will conclude my notice of this poem by observing that the plan of it has not been confined to a particular walk, or an individual place,-a proof (of which I was unconscious at the time) of my unwillingness to submit the poetic spirit to the claims of fact and real circumstance. The country is idealised rather than described in any one of its local aspects.]

General Sketch of the Lakes-Author's regret of his Youth which was passed amongst them-Short description of Noon-Cascade-Noontide RetreatPrecipice and sloping Lights-Face of Nature as the Sun declinesMountain Farm and the Cock-Slate quarry-Sunset-Superstition of the Country connected with that moment-Swans-Female BeggarTwilight sounds-Western Lights-Spirits-Night-Moonlight-Hope Night sounds-Conclusion.

FAR from my dearest Friend, 'tis mine to rove

Through bare grey dell, high wood, and pastoral cove;

Where Derwent rests, and listens to the roar

That stuns the tremulous cliffs of high Lodore ;1

His wizard's course where hoary Derwent takes,
Through crags, and forest glooms, and opening lakes,

Where peace to Grasmere's lonely island leads,
To willowy hedge-rows, and to emerald meads;
Leads to her bridge, rude church, and cottage grounds,
Her rocky sheepwalks, and her woodland bounds ;
Where,1 undisturbed by winds, Winander* sleeps
'Mid clustering isles, and holly-sprinkled steeps;
Where twilight glens endear my Esthwaite's shore,
And memory of departed pleasures, more.

Fair scenes,2 erewhile, I taught, a happy child,
The echoes of your rocks my carols wild:
The spirit sought not then, in cherished sadness,
A cloudy substitute for failing gladness.

In youth's keen eye the livelong day was bright,
The sun at morning, and the stars at night,

Alike, when first the bittern's hollow bill

Was heard, or woodcocks † roamed the moonlight hill.

Staying his silent waves to hear the roar
That stuns the tremulous cliffs of high Lodore ;
Where silver rocks the savage prospect chear
Of giant yews that frown on Rydale's mere ;
Where Derwent stops his course to hear the roar

1793.

1827.

1 1836.

Where bosomed deep, the shy Winander peeps
Where deep embosomed shy Winander peeps

1793.

1827.

gaze,

2 1836.

Fair scenes, with other eyes than once, I
The ever-varying charm your sound displays,
Than when, erewhile, I taught, "a happy child,"
The echoes of your rocks my carols wild;
Then did no ebb of cheerfulness demand

Sad tides of joy from Melancholy's hand;
Upon the varying charm, &c.

1793.

1820.

*These lines are only applicable to the middle part of that lake.

1793.

1793.

+ In the beginning of winter, these mountains are frequented by woodcocks, which in dark nights retire into the woods. 1793.

In thoughtless gaiety I coursed the plain,1
And hope itself was all I knew of pain;
For then, the inexperienced heart would beat2
At times, while young Content forsook her seat,
And wild Impatience, pointing upward, showed,
Through passes yet unreached, a brighter road.
Alas! the idle tale of man is found

Depicted in the dial's moral round;
Hope with reflection blends her social rays.
To gild the total tablet of his days;
Yet still, the sport of some malignant power,
He knows but from its shade the present hour.

But why, ungrateful, dwell on idle pain? To show what pleasures yet to me remain,* Say, will my Friend, with unreluctant ear,5 The history of a poet's evening hear?

1 1820.

2 1836.

While, Memory at my side, I wander here,
Starts, at the simplest sight, th' unbidden tear,
A form discovered at the well known seat,
A spot, that angles at the riv'let's feet,
The ray the cot of morning trav❜ling night,
And sail that glides the well known alders by.

3

1793.

For then, even then, the little heart would beat

1820.

1836.

And wild Impatience, panting upward, showed

When, tipped with gold, the mountain-summits glowed.
Alas! the idle tale of man is found

When, in the south, the wan noon, brooding still,
Breathed a pale steam around the glaring hill,
And shades of deep-embattled clouds were seen,
Spotting the northern cliffs with lights between;
When crowding cattle, checked by rails that make
A fence far stretched into the shallow lake,

Lashed the cool water with their restless tails,

Or from high points of rock looked out for fanning gales;1
When school-boys stretched their length upon the green;
And round the broad-spread oak, a glimmering scene,
In the rough fern-clad park, the herded deer 2
Shook the still-twinkling tail and glancing ear;
When horses in the sunburnt intake* stood,
And vainly eyed below the tempting flood,
Or tracked the passenger, in mute distress,
With forward neck the closing gate to press-3

Gazing the tempting shades to them denied,
When stood the shortened herds am the tide,
Where, from the barren walls unsheltered end,
Long rails into the shallow lake extend;

When, at the barren walls unsheltered end,

Where long rails far into the lake extend,

Crowded the shortened herds, and beat the tides

1793.

With their quick tails, and lashed their speckled sides. 1820.

And round the humming elm a glimmering scene!
In the brown park, in flocks, the troubled deer,

in herds

1793.

1820.

3 1820.

When horses in the wall-girt intake stood,
Unshaded, eying far below, the flood,

Crowded behind the swain, in mute distress,

With forward neck the closing gate to press;

And long, with wistful gaze, his walk surveyed,
Till dipped his pathway in the river shade;

* The word intake is local, and signifies a mountain-inclosure. 1793.

1793.

Then, while I wandered where the huddling rill1

Brightens with water-breaks the hollow ghyll
As by enchantment, an obscure retreat
Opened at once, and stayed my devious feet.
While thick above the rill the branches close,
In rocky basin its wild waves repose,

Inverted shrubs, and moss of gloomy green,

*

Cling from the rocks, with pale wood-weeds between ;
And its own twilight softens the whole scene,
Save where aloft the subtle sunbeams shine
On withered briars that o'er the crags recline; 2

1 1836.

Then Quiet led me up the huddling rill,

Brightening with water-breaks the sombrous gill;
To where, while thick above the branches close,
In dark-brown basin its wild waves repose,
Inverted shrubs, and moss of darkest green,

Cling from the rocks, with pale wood-weeds between ;
Save that, atop, the subtle sunbeams shine,
On withered briars that o'er the crags recline;
Sole light admitted here, a small cascade,
Illumes with sparkling foam the twilight shade.
Beyond, along the vista of the brook,
Where antique roots its bustling path o'erlook,
The eye reposes on a secret bridge
Half-grey, half-shagged with ivy to its ridge.

1793.

Then, while I wandered up the huddling rill
Brightening with water-breaks the sombrous ghyll.

1820.

1836.

But see aloft the subtle sunbeams shine,

On withered briars that o'er the crags recline;

Thus beautiful! as if the sight displayed,

By its own sparkling foam that small cascade;
Inverted shrubs, with moss of gloomy green

Cling from the rocks, with pale wood-weeds between. C.

* Ghyll is also, I believe, a term confined to this country: ghyll, and dingle, have the same meaning. 1793.