Touched by the skylark's earliest note, But whether in the semblance drest Of Dawn, or Eve, fair vision of the west, Each grief, through meekness, settling into rest. page Of a closed volume lingering in thy hand Her brow hath opened on me,—see it there, Se gleams the crescent moon, that loves Nor dread the depth of meditative eye; What wouldst thou more? In sunny glade, Since earth grew calm while angels mused? To crush the mountain dew-drops, — soon to melt That flowers themselves, whate'er their hue, Which the careless shepherd sleeps on, As fitly spring from turf the mourner weeps on, And without wrong are cropped the marble tomb to strew. The Charm is over; the mute Phantoms gone, From these wild rocks thy footsteps I will guide XLI. 1828. THE WISHING-GATE. 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 for ever green: All powers that serve the bright-eyed Queen Are confident and gay; Clouds at her bidding disappear; Points she to aught?—the bliss draws near, And Fancy smooths the way. Not such the land of Wishes, there Dwell fruitless day-dreams, lawless prayer, And thoughts with things at strife; Yet how forlorn, should ye depart, Ye superstitions of the heart, How poor, were human life! When magic lore abjured its might, Inquire not if the Faery race If here a warrior left a spell, Or here a saint expired. Enough that all around is fair, Composed with Nature's finest care, And in her fondest love, Peace to embosom and content, To overawe the turbulent, The selfish to reprove. Yea! even the Stranger from afar, The infection of the ground partakes, Then why should conscious Spirits fear Smile if thou wilt, but not in scorn, If some have thirsted to renew And not in vain, when thoughts are cast Upon the irrevocable past, Some Penitent sincere May for a worthier future sigh, While trickles from his downcast eye No unavailing tear. The Worldling, pining to be freed Might stop before this favored scene, The Sage, who feels how blind, how weak And thirst for insight to allay Or when the church-clock's knell profound XLII. 1828. THE WISHING-GATE DESTROYED. "T IS gone, with old belief and dream That round it clung, and tempting scheme Released from fear and doubt; And the bright landscape too must lie, By this blank wall from every eye Relentlessly shut out. |