-Again he wanders forth at will, And tends a Flock from hill to hill: His garb is humble; ne'er was seen That learn'd of him submissive ways; To his side the Fallow-deer Came, and rested without fear; And both the undying Fish that swim The pair were Servants of his eye In their immortality, They moved about in open sight, He knew the Rocks which Angels haunt On the Mountains visitant; He hath kenn'd them taking wing: He hath entered; and been told And, if Men report him right, He can whisper words of might. On the blood of Clifford calls; "Quell the Scot," exclaims the Lance, Bear me to the heart of France, Is the longing of the Shield Tell thy name, thou trembling Field; Field of death, where'er thou be, Groan thou with our victory! Happy day, and mighty hour, When our Shepherd, in his power, Mail'd and hors'd, with lance and sword, To his Ancestors restored, Like a reappearing Star, Like a glory from afar, First shall head the Flock of War!" Alas! the fervent Harper did not know Love had he found in huts where poor Men lie, His daily Teachers had been Woods and Rills, The silence that is in the starry sky, The sleep that is among the lonely hills. In him the savage Virtue of the Race, Glad were the Vales, and every cottage hearth; The Shepherd Lord was honour'd more and more: And, ages after he was laid in earth, "The Good Lord Clifford" was the name he bore. LINES, Composed at GRASMERE, during a walk, one Evening, after a stormy day, the Author having just read in a Newspaper that the dissolution of MR. Fox was hourly expected. Loud is the Vale! the Voice is up With which she speaks when storms are gone, A mighty Unison of streams! Of all her Voices, One! Loud is the Vale; -this inland Depth In peace is roaring like the Sea; Yon Star upon the mountain-top Is listening quietly. |