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IX.

THE STEPPING-STONES.

THE struggling Rill insensibly is grown
Into a Brook of loud and stately march,
Crossed ever and anon by plank and arch;

And, for like use, lo! what might seem a zone
Chosen for ornament; stone matched with stone
In studied symmetry, with interspace

For the clear waters to pursue their race

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Without restraint. How swiftly have they flown, Succeeding still succeeding! Here the Child Puts, when the high-swoln Flood runs fierce and wild, His budding courage to the proof; — and here Declining Manhood learns to note the sly

And sure encroachments of infirmity,

Thinking how fast time runs, life's end how near!

X.

THE SAME SUBJECT.

Not so that Pair whose youthful spirits dance
With prompt emotion, urging them to pass;
A sweet confusion checks the Shepherd-lass;
Blushing she eyes the dizzy flood askance,

To stop ashamed too timid to advance ; another pause!

She ventures once again

His outstretched hand He tauntingly withdraws
She sues for help with piteous utterance!

Chidden she chides again; the thrilling touch

Both feel when he renews the wished-for aid:
Ah! if their fluttering hearts should stir too much,
Should beat too strongly, both may be betrayed.
The frolic Loves who, from yon high rock, see

The struggle, clap their wings for victory!

XI.

THE FAERY CHASM.

No fiction was it of the antique age:

A sky-blue stone, within this sunless cleft,
Is of the very foot-marks unbereft

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Of some sweet babe, flower stolen, and coarse weed left

For the distracted mother to assuage

Her grief with, as she might! - But, where, oh! where Is traceable a vestige of the notes

That ruled those dances wild in character?

Deep underground? Or in the upper air,

On the shrill wind of midnight? or where floats
O'er twilight fields the autumnal gossamer?

XII.

HINTS FOR THE FANCY.

ON, loitering Muse-The swift Stream chides us-on! Albeit his deep-worn channel doth immure

Objects immense pourtrayed in miniature,

Wild shapes for many a strange comparison !
Niagaras, Alpine passes, and anon

Abodes of Naiads, calm abysses pure,

Bright liquid mansions, fashioned to endure

When the broad Oak drops, a leafless skeleton,
And the solidities of mortal pride,

Palace and Tower, are crumbled into dust!

The Bard who walks with Duddon for his guide,

Shall find such toys of Fancy thickly set:

Turn from the sight, enamoured Muse

-

-

we must;

And, if thou canst, leave them without regret!

XIII.

OPEN PROSPECT.

HAIL to the fields - with Dwellings sprinkled o'er,
And one small hamlet, under a green hill,
Clustered with barn and byer, and spouting mill!

A glance suffices; Ishould we wish for more,

--

Gay June would scorn us; but when bleak winds roar Through the stiff lance-like shoots of pollard ash, Dread swell of sound! loud as the gusts that lash The matted forests of Ontario's shore

By wasteful steel unsmitten, then would I

Turn into port,

and, reckless of the gale,

Reckless of angry Duddon sweeping by,

While the warm hearth exalts the mantling ale,
Laugh with the generous household heartily,

At all the merry pranks of Donnerdale!

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