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313

WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.

MISCELLANEOUS PO E MS.

COMPANION.

FORESIGHT,

To dignify arch looks and laughing eyes;

And feats of cunning; and thc pretty round OB THE CHARGE OF A CHILD TO HIS YOUNGER Of trespasses, affected to provoke

Mock-chastisement and partnership in play.

And, as a faggot sparkles on the hearth, That is work of waste and ruin

Not less if unattended and alone Do as Charles and I are doing!

Than when both young and old sit gathered Strawberry-blossoms, one and all,

round We must spare them-here are many:

And take delight in its activity, Look at it-the Flower is small,

Even so this happy Creature of herself Small and low, though fair as any:

Is all sufficient: solitude to her Do not touch it! summers two

Is blithe society, who fills the air I am older, Anne, than you.

With gladness and involuntary songs.

Light are her sallies as the tripping Fawn's Pull the Primrose, Sister Anne!

Forth-startled from the fern where she lay Pull as many as you can.

couched; - Here are Daisies, take your fill;

Unthought-of, unexpected, as the stir Pansies, and the Cuckow-flower:

Of the soft breeze ruffling the meadowOf the lofty Daffodil

flowers;
Make your bed, and make your bower; Or from before it chasing wantonly
Fill your lap, and fill your bosom; The many-coloured images impressed
Only spare the Strawberry-blossom! Upon the bosom of a placid lake.
Primroses, the spring may love them--
Summer knows but little of them :
Violets, a barren kind,
Withered on the ground must lie;

WE ARE SEVEN.
Daisies leave no fruit behind
When the pretty flowerets die;

A SIMPLE child
Pluck them, and another year

That lightly draws its breath As many will be blowing here.

And feels its life in every limb,

What should it know of death?
God has given a kindlier power
To the favoured Strawberry-flower.
When the months of Spring are fled

I met a little cottage-girl:
Hither led ne bend our walk ;

She was eight years old, she said; Lurking berries, ripe and red,

Her hair was thick with many a curl Then will hang on every stalk,

That clustered round her head.
Each within its leafy bower;
And for that promise spare the flower!

She had a rustic woodland-air
And she was wildly clad;
Her eyes were fair, and very fair;

Her beauty made me glad.
CHARACTERISTICS

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Sisters and brothers, little Maid,
How many may you be?
How many? Seven in all, she said
And wondering looked at me.

SIX

YEARS

OLD.

And where are they? I pray you tell.

TO H. C.
She answered: Seven are we;
And two of us at Conway dwell,
And two are gone to sea.
Two of us in the church-yard lie,

0 Thou! whose fancies from afar are My sister and my brother;

brought; And, in the church-yard-cottage, I

Who of thy words dost make a mock-apparel, Dwell near them with my mother.

And fittest to unutterable thought

The breeze-likemotion and the self-born carol; You say that two at Conway dwell, Thou faery Voyager! that dost float And two are gone to sea,

In such clear water, that thy Boat Yet ye are seven - I pray you tell,

May rather seem Sweet Maid, how this may be?

To brood on air than on an earthly stream;

Suspended in a stream as clear as sky, Then did the little Maid reply:

Where earth and heaven do make one Seven boys and girls are we;

imagery; Two of us in the church-yard lie,

O blessed Vision! happy Child! Beneath the church-yard-tree.

That art so exquisitely wild,

I think of thee with many fears You run about, my little Maid,

For what may be thy lot in future years. Your limbs they are alive; If two are in the church-yard laid, Then ye are only five.

I thought of times when Pain might be

thy guest, Their graves are green, they may be seen, Lord of thy house and hospitality; The little maid replied,

And Grief, uneasy Lover! never rest Twelve steps or more from my mother's door, But when she sate within the touch of thee. And they are side by side.

Oh! too industrious folly!

Oh! vain and causeless melancholy! My stockings there I often knit,

Nature will either end thee quite; My kerchief there I hem;

Or, lengthening out thy season of delight, And there upon the ground I sit

Preserve for thee, by individual right, I sit and sing to them.

A
young Lamb's heart among the full-grown

flocks. And often after sunset, Sir,

What hast Thou to do with sorrow, When it is light and fair,

Or the injuries of to-morrow? I take my little porringer,

Thou art a Dew-drop, which the morn brings And eat my supper there.

forth,

Not doom'd to jostle with unkindly shocks;
The first that died was little Jane; Or to be trail'd along the soiling earth;
In bed she moaning lay,

A Gem that glitters while it lives,
Till God released her of her pain; And no forewarning gives;
And then she went away.

But, at the touch of wrong, without a strife

Slips in a moment out of life. So in the church-yard she was laid; And all the summer dry Together round her grave we played, My brother John and I. And when the ground was white with snow, THE BLIND, HIGHLAND BOY. And I could run and slide, My brother John was forced to go,

(A TALE TOLD BY THE FIRE-SIDR.) And he lies by her side. How many are you then, said I,

Now we are tired of boisterous joy,

We've romp'd enough, my little Boy! If they two are in Heaven? The little Maiden did reply :

Jane hangs her head upon my breast, 0 Master we are seven.

And you shall bring your stool and rest,

This corner is your own.
But they are dead; those two are dead!
Their spirits are in Hcaven!

There! take your seat, and let me see
"Twas throwing words away: for still That you can listen quietly;
The little Maid would have her will, And as I promised I will tell
And said: Nay, we are seven!

That strange adventure which befel

A poor blind Highland-Boy.

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And then the bagpipes he could blow; When one day (and now mark ine well,
And thus from house to house would go, You soon shall know how this befel)
And all were pleas’d to hear and see;

He's in a vessel of his own,
For none made sweeter melody

On the swift water hurrying down Than did the poor blind Boy.

Towards the mighty Sea.

Yet he had many a restless dream; In such a vessel ne'er before
Both when he heard the Eagles scream,

Did human Creature leave the shore:
And when he heard the torrents roar, If this or that way he should stir,
And heard the water beat the shore Woe to the poor blind Mariner!
Near which their Cottage stood.

For death will be his doom. Beside a lake their Cottage stood,

But say what bears him ?--Ye have seen Not small like ours, a peaceful flood; The Indian's bow, his arrows keen, But one of mighty size, and strange; Rare beasts, and birds with plumage bright; That, rough or sinooth, is full of change, Gifts which, for wonder or delight And stirring in its bed.

Are brought in ships from far. For to this Lake, by night and day, Such gifts had those sea-faring men The great Sea-water finds its way Spread round that Haven in the glen; Through long, long windings of the hills; Each hut, perchance, might have its own, And drinks up all the pretty rills

And to the Boy they all were known, And rivers large and strong:

He knew and prized them all. Then hurries back the road it came- And one, the rarest, was a shell Returns, on errand still the same;

Which he, poor child! had studied well; This did it when the earth was new; The shell of a green Turtle, thin And this for evermore will do,

And hollow ;--you might sit therein, As long as earth shall last.

It was so wide and deep.

'Twas even the largest of its kind, But now the passionate lament,
Large, thin, and light as birch-tree-rind; Which from the crowd on shore was sent,
So light a shell that it would swim The cries which broke from old and young
And gaily lift its fearless brim

In Gaelic, or the English tongue,
Above the tossing waves.

Are stifled-all is still.
And this the little blind Boy knew: And quickly with a silent crew
And he a story strange, yet true,

A Boat is ready to pursue ;
Had heard, how in a shell like this And from the shore their course they take,
An English boy, oh thought of bliss ! And swiftly down the running Lake

Had stoutly launched from shore; They follow the blind Boy.
Launched from the margin of a bay But soon they move with softer pace :
Among the Indian isles, where Jay So have you seen the fowler chase
His father's ship, and had sailed far, On Grasmere's clear unruffled breast
To join that gallant Ship of war

A youngling of the wild-duck's nest
In his delightful shell.

With deftly-lifted oar.
Our Highland-Boy oft visited

Or as the wily sailors crept
The house which held this prize; and, led To seize (while on the Deep it slept)
By choice or chance, did thither come The hapless Creature which did dwell
One day when no one was at home, Erewhile within the dancing shell,
And found the door unbarred.

They steal upon their prey.
While there he sate alone and blind With sound the least that can be made
That story flashed upon his mind;- They follow, more and more afraid,
A bold thought rouzed him, and he took More cautious as they draw more near;
The shell from out its secret nook

But in his darkness he can hear, And bore it in his arms.

And guesses their intent.

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But most of all, his Mother dear,

What thou askest, noble Brother, She who had fainted with her fear,

With God's favour shall be done. Rejoiced when waking she espies

So were both right well content: The Child; when she can trust her eyes, From the Castle forth they went. And touches the blind Boy.

And at the head of their Array

To Palestine the Brothers took their way.
She led him home, and wept amain,
When he was in the house again:

Side by side they fought (the Lucies
Tears flowed in torrents from her eyes, Were a line for valour fain'd)
She could not blame him, or chastise: And where'er their strokes alighted
She was too happy far.

There the Saracens were tam'd.

Whence, then, could it come the thought, Thus, after he had fondly braved

By what evil spirit brought? The perilous Deep, the Boy was saved; Oh! can a brave Man wish to take And, though his fancies had been wild, His Brother's life, for Land's and Castle's sake? Yet he was pleased, and reconciled To live in peace on shore.

Sir! the Ruffians said to Hubert,

Deep he lies in Jordan flood.And in the lonely Highland-dell

Stricken by this ill assurance, Still do they keep the turtle-shell ;

Pale and trembling Hubert stood. And long the story will repeat

Take your earnings.-Oh! that I
Of the blind Boy's adventurous feat, Could have seen my Brother die!
And how he was preserved.

It was a pang that vex'd him then,
And oft returned, again, and yet again.

Months pass'd on, and no Sir Eustace!
THE HORN OF EGREMONT CASTLE. Nor of him were tidings heard.

Wherefore, bold as day, the Murderer When the Brothers reached the gateway, Back again to England steer'd. Eustace pointed with his lance

To his Castle Hubert sped ; To the Horn which there was hanging ; He has nothing now to dread. Horn of the inheritance.

But silent and by stealth he came, Horn it was which none could sound, And at an hour which nobody could name. No one upon living ground, Save He who came as rightful Heir None could tell if it were night-time, To Egremont's Domains and Castle fair. Night or day, at even or morn;

For the sound was heard by no one Heirs from ages without record

Of the proclamation-horn. Had the House of Lucie born,

But bold Hubert lives in glee: Who of right had claim'd the Lordship Months and years went smilingly; By the proof upon the Horn :

With plenty was his table spread; Each at the appointed hour

And bright the Lady is who shares his bed.
Tried the Horn, it own'd his power;
He was acknowledged: and the blast Likewise he had Sons and Daughters;
Which good Sir Eustace sounded was the last. And, as good men do, he sate

At his board by these surrounded,
With his lance Sir Eustace pointed, Flourishing in fair estate.
And to Hubert thus said he:

And, while thus in open day
What I speak this Horn shall witness Once he sate, as old books say,
For thy better memory.

A blast was utter'd from the Horn, Hear, then, and neglect me not!

Where by the Castle-gate it hung forlorn. At this time, and on this spot, The words are utter'd from my heart, 'Tis the breath of good Sir Eustace! As my last earnest prayer ere we depart. He is come to claim his right:

Ancient Castle, Woods, and Mountains On good service we are going

Hear the challenge with delight.
Life to risk by sea and land;

Hubert! though the blast be blown
In which course if Christ our Saviour He is helpless and alone:
Do my sinful soul demand,

Thou hast a dungeon, speak the word ! Hither come thou back straightway, And there he may be lodg'd, and thou be Hubert, if alive that day;

Lord.
Return, and sound the Horn, that we
May have a living House still left in thee. Speak !—astounded Hubert cannot ;

And if power to speak he had,
Fear not, quickly answer'd Hubert; All are daunted, all the household
As I am thy Father's son,

Smitten to the heart, and sad.

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