But welcome fortitude, and patient cheer, And frequent sights of what is to be borne ! Such sights, or worse, as are before me here. Not without hope we suffer and we mourn.

1805.

VII.

TO THE DAISY.

SWEET Flower! belike one day to have
A place upon thy Poet's grave,
I welcome thee once more:
But he, who was on land, at sea,
My Brother, too, in loving thee,
Although he loved more silently,
Sleeps by his native shore.

Ah! hopeful, hopeful was the day
When to that Ship he bent his way,
To govern and to guide:

His wish was gained: a little time

Would bring him back, in manhood's prime

And free for life, these hills to climb,

With all his wants supplied.

And full of hope day followed day

While that stout Ship at anchor lay
Beside the shores of Wight;

The May had then made all things green,

And, floating there, in pomp serene,
That Ship was goodly to be seen,
His pride and his delight!

Yet then, when called ashore, he sought
The tender peace of rural thought:
In more than happy mood

To your abodes, bright daisy Flowers!
He then would steal at leisure hours,

And loved you glittering in your bowers, A starry multitude.

But hark the word! the ship is gone;

Returns from her long course;

Sets sail; - in season due,

anon

Once more on English earth they stand: But, when a third time from the land

They parted, sorrow was at hand

For him and for his crew.

Ill-fated Vessel! - ghastly shock!

At length delivered from the rock,

The deep she hath regained;

And through the stormy night they steer,

Laboring for life, in hope and fear,

To reach a safer shore,

Yet not to be 'attained!

- how near,

"Silence!" the brave Commander cried; To that calm word a shriek replied,

It was the last death-shriek.

- A few (my soul oft sees that sight)
Survive upon the tall mast's height;
But one dear remnant of the night,
For him in vain I seek.

Six weeks beneath the moving sea
He lay in slumber quietly;
Unforced by wind or wave

To quit the ship for which he died,
(All claims of duty satisfied;)

And there they found him at her side,
And bore him to the grave.

Vain service! yet not vainly done
For this, if other end were none,
That he, who had been cast
Upon a way of life unmeet

For such a gentle Soul and sweet,
Should find an undisturbed retreat
Near what he loved, at last

The neighborhood of grove and field.
To him a resting-place should yield,
A meek man and a brave!

The birds shall sing and ocean make

A mournful murmur for his sake;

And thou, sweet flower, shalt sleep and wake Upon his senseless grave.

1805.

VIII.

ELEGIAC VERSES,

IN MEMORY OF MY BROTHER, JOHN WORDSWORTH,

Commander of the E. I. Company's ship, the Earl of Abergavenny, in which he perished by a calamitous shipwreck, Feb. 6th, 1805. Composed near the mountain track, that leads from Grasmere through Grisdale Hawes, where it descends towards Patterdale.

1805.

I.

THE Sheep-boy whistled loud, and lo!
That instant, startled by the shock,
The Buzzard mounted from the rock
Deliberate and slow:

Lord of the air, he took his flight;
O, could he on that woful night
Have lent his wing, my Brother dear,
For one poor moment's space, to thee,
And all who struggled with the Sea,
When safety was so near!

II.

Thus in the weakness of my heart
I spoke, (but let that pang be still,)
When, rising from the rock at will,
I saw the bird depart.

And let me calmly bless the Power

That meets me in this unknown flower,
Affecting type of him I mourn!

With calmness suffer and believe,

And grieve, and know that I must grieve,
Not cheerless, though forlorn.

III.

Here did we stop; and here looked round
While each into himself descends,

For that last thought of parting Friends
That is not to be found.

Hidden was Grasmere Vale from sight,
Our home and his, his heart's delight,
His quiet heart's selected home.
But time before him melts away,
And he hath feeling of a day

Of blessedness to come.

IV.

Full soon in sorrow did I weep,

Taught that the mutual hope was dust,

In sorrow, but for higher trust,

How miserably deep!

All vanished in a single word,

A breath, a sound, and scarcely heard.

Sea,-ship,-drowned,- shipwreck,-so it came,

The meek, the brave, the good, was gone;

He who had been our living John

Was nothing but a name.