Benjamin, among the stars, Beheld a dancing, and a glancing; As, I ween, was never seen In bloodiest battle since the days of Mars! CANTO FOURTH. THUS they, with freaks of proud delight, Beguile the remnant of the night; And many a snatch of jovial song Regales them as they wind along; While to the music, from on high, The echoes make a glad reply. — But the sage Muse the revel heeds No farther than her story needs; Nor will she servilely attend The loitering journey to its end. -Blithe spirits of her own impel The Muse, who scents the morning air, To take of this transported pair A brief and unreproved farewell; To quit the slow-paced wagon's side, And wander down the hawthorn dell, With murmuring Greta for her guide. -There doth she ken the awful form Of Raven-crag Glimmering through the twilight pale; : And Ghimmer-crag, his tall twin brother, Her unsuspecting eye, perchance, With the rude shepherd's favored glance, Whose party-colored garments gay Red, green, and blue; a moment's sight! Is touched, and all the band take flight. - Fly also, Muse! and from the dell Mount to the ridge of Nathdale Fell; Thence, look thou forth o'er wood and lawn Hoar with the frost-like dews of dawn; Across yon meadowy bottom look, Where close fogs hide their parent brook; By trees and lingering twilight made! *The crag of the ewe lamb. Concealed the persecuted boy, Well pleased in rustic garb to feed Crags, woodlands, waterfalls, and rills; The mists, that o'er the streamlet's bed Hung low, begin to rise and spread ; And lo! -up Castrigg's naked steep (Where, smoothly urged, the vapors sweep Along, and scatter and divide, Like fleecy clouds self-multiplied) The stately wagon is ascending, With faithful Benjamin attending, Apparent now beside his team, Now lost amid a glittering steam: And with him goes his Sailor-friend, By this time near their journey's end; And, after their high-minded riot, Sickening into thoughtful quiet; As if the morning's pleasant hour, Had for their joys a killing power. And, sooth, for Benjamin a vein Is opened of still deeper pain, As if his heart by notes were stung From out the lowly hedge-rows flung; Drooping is he, his step is dull; Whether, by their own desert, As much as may be of the blame, Rising like an exhalation, Blend with the mist, a moving shroud To form, an undissolving cloud; Which, with slant ray, the merry sun Takes delight to play upon. Never golden-haired Apollo, Pleased some favorite chief to follow Him and his enemies between ! Alas! what boots it?-who can hide, When the malicious Fates are bent On working out an ill intent? Can destiny be turned aside? No, sad progress of my story! Benjamin, this outward glory And, in fear of some disaster, Comes to give what help he may, If, as needs he must forebode, Thou hast been loitering on the road! His fears, his doubts, may now take flight, – The wished-for object is in sight; Yet, trust the Muse, it rather hath |