Inscriptions
Supposed To Be Found In And Near A Hermit's Cell, 1818
II
Inscribed Upon A Rock


          PAUSE, Traveller! whosoe'er thou be
          Whom chance may lead to this retreat,
          Where silence yields reluctantly
          Even to the fleecy straggler's bleat;

          Give voice to what my hand shall trace,
          And fear not lest an idle sound
          Of words unsuited to the place
          Disturb its solitude profound.

          I saw this Rock, while vernal air
          Blew softly o'er the russet heath,                          10
          Uphold a Monument as fair
          As church or abbey furnisheth.

          Unsullied did it meet the day,
          Like marble, white, like ether, pure;
          As if, beneath, some hero lay,
          Honoured with costliest sepulture.

          My fancy kindled as I gazed;
          And, ever as the sun shone forth,
          The flattered structure glistened, blazed,
          And seemed the proudest thing on earth.                     20

          But frost had reared the gorgeous Pile
          Unsound as those which Fortune builds--
          To undermine with secret guile,
          Sapped by the very beam that gilds.

          And, while I gazed, with sudden shock
          Fell the whole Fabric to the ground;
          And naked left this dripping Rock,
          With shapeless ruin spread around!

Inscriptions
Supposed To Be Found In And Near A Hermit's Cell, 1818
III


          HAST thou seen, with flash incessant,
          Bubbles gliding under ice,
          Bodied forth and evanescent,
          No one knows by what device?

          Such are thoughts!--A wind-swept meadow
          Mimicking a troubled sea,
          Such is life; and death a shadow
          From the rock eternity!

Inscriptions
Supposed To Be Found In And Near A Hermit's Cell, 1818
IV
Near The Spring Of The Hermitage

          TROUBLED long with warring notions
          Long impatient of thy rod,
          I resign my soul's emotions
          Unto Thee, mysterious God!

          What avails the kindly shelter
          Yielded by this craggy rent,
          If my spirit toss and welter
          On the waves of discontent?

          Parching Summer hath no warrant
          To consume this crystal Well;                               10
          Rains, that make each rill a torrent,
          Neither sully it nor swell.

          Thus, dishonouring not her station,
          Would my Life present to Thee,
          Gracious God, the pure oblation
          Of divine tranquillity!

Inscriptions
Supposed To Be Found In And Near A Hermit's Cell, 1818
V


          NOT seldom, clad in radiant vest,
          Deceitfully goes forth the Morn;
          Not seldom Evening in the west
          Sinks smilingly forsworn.

          The smoothest seas will sometimes prove,
          To the confiding Bark, untrue;
          And, if she trust the stars above,
          They can be treacherous too.

          The umbrageous Oak, in pomp outspread
          Full oft, when storms the welkin rend,                      10
          Draws lightning down upon the head
          It promised to defend.

          But Thou art true, incarnate Lord,
          Who didst vouchsafe for man to die;
          Thy smile is sure, thy plighted word
          No change can falsify!

          I bent before thy gracious throne,
          And asked for peace on suppliant knee;
          And peace was given,--nor peace alone,
          But faith sublimed to ecstasy!                              20

Composed Upon An Evening Of Extraordinary Splendour And Beauty

                                   I

          HAD this effulgence disappeared
          With flying haste, I might have sent,
          Among the speechless clouds, a look
          Of blank astonishment;
          But 'tis endued with power to stay,
          And sanctify one closing day,
          That frail Mortality may see--
          What is?--ah no, but what 'can' be!
          Time was when field and watery cove
          With modulated echoes rang,
          While choirs of fervent Angels sang
          Their vespers in the grove;
          Or, crowning, star-like, each some sovereign height,
          Warbled, for heaven above and earth below,
          Strains suitable to both.--Such holy rite,
          Methinks, if audibly repeated now
          From hill or valley, could not move
          Sublimer transport, purer love,
          Than doth this silent spectacle--the gleam--
          The shadow--and the peace supreme!

                                   II

          No sound is uttered,--but a deep
          And solemn harmony pervades
          The hollow vale from steep to steep,
          And penetrates the glades.
          Far-distant images draw nigh,
          Called forth by wondrous potency
          Of beamy radiance, that imbues,
          Whate'er it strikes, with gem-like hues!
          In vision exquisitely clear,
          Herds range along the mountain side;
          And glistening antlers are descried;
          And gilded flocks appear.
          Thine is the tranquil hour, purpureal Eve!
          But long as god-like wish, or hope divine,
          Informs my spirit, ne'er can I believe
          That this magnificence is wholly thine!
          --From worlds not quickened by the sun
          A portion of the gift is won;
          An intermingling of Heaven's pomp is spread
          On ground which British shepherds tread!

                                  III

          And, if there be whom broken ties
          Afflict, or injuries assail,
          Yon hazy ridges to their eyes
          Present a glorious scale,
          Climbing suffused with sunny air,
          To stop--no record hath told where!
          And tempting Fancy to ascend,
          And with immortal Spirits blend!
          --Wings at my shoulders seem to play;
          But, rooted here, I stand and gaze
          On those bright steps that heavenward raise
          Their practicable way.
          Come forth, ye drooping old men, look abroad,
          And see to what fair countries ye are bound!
          And if some traveller, weary of his road,
          Hath slept since noon-tide on the grassy ground,
          Ye Genii! to his covert speed;
          And wake him with such gentle heed
          As may attune his soul to meet the dower
          Bestowed on this transcendent hour!

                                   IV

          Such hues from their celestial Urn
          Were wont to stream before mine eye,
          Where'er it wandered in the morn
          Of blissful infancy.
          This glimpse of glory, why renewed?
          Nay, rather speak with gratitude;
          For, if a vestige of those gleams
          Survived, 'twas only in my dreams.
          Dread Power! whom peace and calmness serve
          No less than Nature's threatening voice,
          If aught unworthy be my choice,
          From THEE if I would swerve;
          Oh, let thy grace remind me of the light
          Full early lost, and fruitlessly deplored;
          Which, at this moment, on my waking sight
          Appears to shine, by miracle restored;
          My soul, though yet confined to earth,
          Rejoices in a second birth!
          --'Tis past, the visionary splendour fades;
          And night approaches with her shades.
                                                              1818.

Composed During A Storm


          ONE who was suffering tumult in his soul,
          Yet failed to seek the sure relief of prayer,
          Went forth--his course surrendering to the care
          Of the fierce wind, while mid-day lightnings prowl
          Insidiously, untimely thunders growl;
          While trees, dim-seen, in frenzied numbers, tear
          The lingering remnant of their yellow hair,
          And shivering wolves, surprised with darkness, howl
          As if the sun were not. He raised his eye
          Soul-smitten; for, that instant, did appear                 10
          Large space ('mid dreadful clouds) of purest sky,
          An azure disc--shield of Tranquillity;
          Invisible, unlooked-for, minister
          Of providential goodness ever nigh!
                                                              1819.

This, And The Two Following, Were Suggested By Mr. W. Westall's Views Of The Caves, etc., In Yorkshire


          PURE element of waters! wheresoe'er
          Thou dost forsake thy subterranean haunts,
          Green herbs, bright flowers, and berry-bearing plants,
          Rise into life and in thy train appear:
          And, through the sunny portion of the year,
          Swift insects shine, thy hovering pursuivants:
          And, if thy bounty fail, the forest pants;
          And hart and hind and hunter with his spear,
          Languish and droop together. Nor unfelt
          In man's perturbed soul thy sway benign;                    10
          And, haply, far within the marble belt
          Of central earth, where tortured Spirits pine
          For grace and goodness lost, thy murmurs melt
          Their anguish,--and they blend sweet songs with thine.
                                                              1819.

Malham Cove


          WAS the aim frustrated by force or guile,
          When giants scooped from out the rocky ground,
          Tier under tier, this semicirque profound?
          (Giants--the same who built in Erin's isle
          That Causeway with incomparable toil!)--
          Oh, had this vast theatric structure wound
          With finished sweep into a perfect round,
          No mightier work had gained the plausive smile
          Of all-beholding Phoebus! But, alas,
          Vain earth! false world! Foundations must be laid           10
          In Heaven; for, 'mid the wreck of IS and WAS,
          Things incomplete and purposes betrayed
          Make sadder transits o'er thought's optic glass
          Than noblest objects utterly decayed.
                                                              1819.

Gordale


          AT early dawn, or rather when the air
          Glimmers with fading light, and shadowy Eve
          Is busiest to confer and to bereave;
          Then, pensive Votary! let thy feet repair
          To Gordale-chasm, terrific as the lair
          Where the young lions couch; for so, by leave
          Of the propitious hour, thou may'st perceive
          The local Deity, with oozy hair
          And mineral crown, beside his jagged urn,
          Recumbent: Him thou may'st behold, who hides                10
          His lineaments by day, yet there presides,
          Teaching the docile waters how to turn,
          Or (if need be) impediment to spurn,
          And force their passage to the salt-see tides!
                                                              1819.

"Aerial Rock--Whose Solitary Brow"


          AERIAL Rock--whose solitary brow
          From this low threshold daily meets my sight;
          When I step forth to hail the morning light;
          Or quit the stars with a lingering farewell--how
          Shall Fancy pay to thee a grateful vow?
          How, with the Muse's aid, her love attest?
          --By planting on thy naked head the crest
          Of an imperial Castle, which the plough
          Of ruin shall not touch. Innocent scheme!
          That doth presume no more than to supply                    10
          A grace the sinuous vale and roaring stream
          Want, through neglect of hoar Antiquity.
          Rise, then, ye votive Towers! and catch a gleam
          Of golden sunset, ere it fade and die.
                                                              1819.