Glittered at evening like a starry sky; And in this bush our sparrow built her nest, O happy Garden! whose seclusion deep 1802. V. STANZAS WRITTEN IN MY POCKET-COPY OF THOMSON'S CASTLE OF INDOLENCE. [COMPOSED in the orchard, Town-end, Grasmere, Coleridge living with us much at the time: his son Hartley has said, that his father's character and habits are here preserved in a livelier way than in anything that has been written about him.] WITHIN Our happy Castle there dwelt One But go to-morrow, or belike to-day, Seek for him, he is fled; and whither none can say. Thus often would he leave our peaceful home, His voice came to us from the neighbouring height: Ah! piteous sight it was to see this Man Down would he sit; and without strength or power Great wonder to our gentle tribe it was Some thought far worse of him, and judged him wrong; And his own mind did like a tempest strong Come to him thus, and drove the weary Wight along. With him there often walked in friendly guise, A noticeable Man with large grey eyes, And a pale face that seemed undoubtedly Yet some did think that he had little business here : Sweet heaven forefend! his was a lawful right; His limbs would toss about him with delight He would have taught you how you might employ Expedients, too, of simplest sort he tried : Long blades of grass, plucked round him as he lay, A pipe on which the wind would deftly play; The mysteries that cups of flowers enfold, And all the gorgeous sights which fairies do behold. He would entice that other Man to hear His music, and to view his imagery: And, sooth, these two were each to the other dear : No livelier love in such a place could be: There did they dwell-from earthly labour free, As happy spirits as were ever seen; If but a bird, to keep them company, Or butterfly sate down, they were, I ween, As pleased as if the same had been a Maiden-queen. 1802. VI. LOUISA. AFTER ACCOMPANYING HER ON A MOUNTAIN EXCURSION. [WRITTEN at Town-end, Grasmere.] I MET Louisa in the shade, And, having seen that lovely Maid, Why should I fear to say That, nymph-like, she is fleet and strong, She loves her fire, her cottage-home; And, when against the wind she strains, Take all that's mine beneath the moon,' If I with her but half a noon May sit beneath the walls Of some old cave, or mossy nook, When up she winds along the brook To hunt the waterfalls. VII. [THE next three poems were written in Germany.] STRANGE fits of passion have I known : But in the Lover's ear alone, What once to me befel. When she I loved looked every day Fresh as a rose in June, I to her cottage bent my way, Upon the moon I fixed my eye, All over the wide lea; With quickening pace my horse drew nigh Those paths so dear to me. And now we reached the orchard-plot; And, as we climbed the hill, The sinking moon to Lucy's cot Came near, and nearer still. In one of those sweet dreams I slept, Kind Nature's gentlest boon! My horse moved on; hoof after hoof |