The River Duddon
A Series Of Sonnets, 1820.
XX. The Plain Of Donnerdale


          THE old inventive Poets, had they seen,
          Or rather felt, the entrancement that detains
          Thy waters, Duddon! 'mid these flowery plains--
          The still repose, the liquid lapse serene,
          Transferred to bowers imperishably green,
          Had beautified Elysium! But these chains
          Will soon be broken;--a rough course remains,
          Rough as the past; where Thou, of placid mien,
          Innocuous as a firstling of the flock,
          And countenanced like a soft cerulean sky,                  10
          Shalt change thy temper; and, with many a shock
          Given and received in mutual jeopardy,
          Dance, like a Bacchanal, from rock to rock,
          Tossing her frantic thyrsus wide and high!

The River Duddon
A Series Of Sonnets, 1820.
XXI


          WHENCE that low voice?--A whisper from the heart,
          That told of days long past, when here I roved
          With friends and kindred tenderly beloved;
          Some who had early mandates to depart,
          Yet are allowed to steal my path athwart
          By Duddon's side; once more do we unite,
          Once more, beneath the kind Earth's tranquil light;
          And smothered joys into new being start.
          From her unworthy seat, the cloudy stall
          Of Time, breaks forth triumphant Memory;                    10
          Her glistening tresses bound, yet light and free
          As golden locks of birch, that rise and fall
          On gales that breathe too gently to recall
          Aught of the fading year's inclemency!

The River Duddon
A Series Of Sonnets, 1820.
XXII. Tradition


          A LOVE-LORN Maid, at some far-distant time,
          Came to this hidden pool, whose depths surpass
          In crystal clearness Dian's looking-glass;
          And, gazing, saw that Rose, which from the prime
          Derives its name, reflected, as the chime
          Of echo doth reverberate some sweet sound:
          The starry treasure from the blue profound
          She longed to ravish;--shall she plunge, or climb
          The humid precipice, and seize the guest
          Of April, smiling high in upper air?                        10
          Desperate alternative! what fiend could dare
          To prompt the thought?--Upon the steep rock's breast
          The lonely Primrose yet renews its bloom,
          Untouched memento of her hapless doom!

The River Duddon
A Series Of Sonnets, 1820.
XXIII. Sheep-Washing


          SAD thoughts, avaunt!--partake we their blithe cheer
          Who gathered in betimes the unshorn flock
          To wash the fleece, where haply bands of rock,
          Checking the stream, make a pool smooth and clear
          As this we look on. Distant Mountains hear,
          Hear and repeat, the turmoil that unites
          Clamour of boys with innocent despites
          Of barking dogs, and bleatings from strange fear.
          And what if Duddon's spotless flood receive
          Unwelcome mixtures as the uncouth noise                     10
          Thickens, the pastoral River will forgive
          Such wrong; nor need 'we' blame the licensed joys,
          Though false to Nature's quiet equipoise:
          Frank are the sports, the stains are fugitive.

The River Duddon
A Series Of Sonnets, 1820.
XXIV. The Resting-Place

          MID-NOON is past;--upon the sultry mead
          No zephyr breathes, no cloud its shadow throws:
          If we advance unstrengthened by repose,
          Farewell the solace of the vagrant reed!
          This Nook--with woodbine hung and straggling weed
          Tempting recess as ever pilgrim chose,
          Half grot, half arbour--proffers to enclose
          Body and mind, from molestation freed,
          In narrow compass--narrow as itself:
          Or if the Fancy, too industrious Elf,                       10
          Be loth that we should breathe awhile exempt
          From new incitements friendly to our task,
          Here wants not stealthy prospect, that may tempt
          Loose Idless to forego her wily mask.

The River Duddon
A Series Of Sonnets, 1820.
XXV


          METHINKS 'twere no unprecedented feat
          Should some benignant Minister of air
          Lift, and encircle with a cloudy chair,
          The One for whom my heart shall ever beat
          With tenderest love;--or, if a safer seat
          Atween his downy wings be furnished, there
          Would lodge her, and the cherished burden bear
          O'er hill and valley to this dim retreat!
          Rough ways my steps have trod;--too rough and long
          For her companionship; here dwells soft ease:               10
          With sweets that she partakes not some distaste
          Mingles, and lurking consciousness of wrong;
          Languish the flowers; the waters seem to waste
          Their vocal charm; their sparklings cease to please.

The River Duddon
A Series Of Sonnets, 1820.
XXVI


          RETURN, Content! for fondly I pursued,
          Even when a child, the Streams--unheard, unseen;
          Through tangled woods, impending rocks between;
          Or, free as air, with flying inquest viewed
          The sullen reservoirs whence their bold brood--
          Pure as the morning, fretful, boisterous, keen,
          Green as the salt-sea billows, white and green--
          Poured down the hills, a choral multitude!
          Nor have I tracked their course for scanty gains;
          They taught me random cares and truant joys,                10
          That shield from mischief and preserve from stains
          Vague minds, while men are growing out of boys;
          Maturer Fancy owes to their rough noise
          Impetuous thoughts that brook not servile reins.

The River Duddon
A Series Of Sonnets, 1820.
XXVII


          FALLEN, and diffused into a shapeless heap,
          Or quietly self-buried in earth's mould,
          Is that embattled House, whose massy Keep,
          Flung from yon cliff a shadow large and cold.
          There dwelt the gay, the bountiful, the bold;
          Till nightly lamentations, like the sweep
          Of winds--though winds were silent--struck a deep
          And lasting terror through that ancient Hold.
          Its line of Warriors fled;--they shrunk when tried
          By ghostly power:--but Time's unsparing hand                10
          Hath plucked such foes, like weeds, from out the land;
          And now, if men with men in peace abide,
          All other strength the weakest may withstand,
          All worse assaults may safely be defied.

The River Duddon
A Series Of Sonnets, 1820.
XXVIII. Journey Renewed


          I ROSE while yet the cattle, heat-opprest,
          Crowded together under rustling trees
          Brushed by the current of the water-breeze;
          And for 'their' sakes, and love of all that rest,
          On Duddon's margin, in the sheltering nest;
          For all the startled scaly tribes that slink
          Into his coverts, and each fearless link
          Of dancing insects forged upon his breast;
          For these, and hopes and recollections worn
          Close to the vital seat of human clay;                      10
          Glad meetings, tender partings, that upstay
          The drooping mind of absence, by vows sworn
          In his pure presence near the trysting thorn--
          I thanked the Leader of my onward way.

The River Duddon
A Series Of Sonnets, 1820.
XXIX


          NO record tells of lance opposed to lance,
          Horse charging horse, 'mid these retired domains;
          Tells that their turf drank purple from the veins
          Of heroes, fallen, or struggling to advance,
          Till doubtful combat issued in a trance
          Of victory, that struck through heart and reins
          Even to the inmost seat of mortal pains,
          And lightened o'er the pallid countenance.
          Yet, to the loyal and the brave, who lie
          In the blank earth, neglected and forlorn,                  10
          The passing Winds memorial tribute pay;
          The Torrents chant their praise, inspiring scorn
          Of power usurped; with proclamation high,
          And glad acknowledgment, of lawful sway.