Exalt the sense of thoughtful gratitude
For benefits that still survive, by faith
In progress, under laws divine, maintained.
RYDAL MOUNT, March 26, 1842.
SMALL service is true service while it lasts:
Of humblest Friends, bright Creature! scorn not
The Daisy, by the shadow that it casts,
Protects the lingering dew-drop from the Sun.
WRITTEN IN THE ALBUM OF THE COUNTESS OF LONSDALE. NOV. 5, 1834.
LADY! a Pen (perhaps with thy regard,
Among the Favored, favored not the least)
Left, 'mid the Records of this Book inscribed,
Deliberate traces, registers of thought
And feeling, suited to the place and time
That gave them birth : months passed, and still
this hand,
That had not been too timid to imprint
Words which the virtues of thy Lord inspired,
Was yet not bold enough to write of thee.
And why that scrupulous reserve? In sooth,
The blameless cause lay in the Theme itself.
Flowers are there many that delight to strive
With the sharp wind, and seem to court the shower,
Yet are by nature careless of the sun
Whether he shine on them or not; and some,
Where'er he moves along the unclouded sky,
Turn a broad front full on his fluttering beams:
Others do rather from their notice shrink,
Loving the dewy shade, a humble band,
Modest and sweet, a progeny of earth,
Congenial with thy mind and character,
High-born Augusta!
Witness Towers, and Groves!
And thou, wild Stream, that giv'st the honored
Of Lowther to this ancient Line, bear witness
From thy most secret haunts; and ye Parterres,
Which She is pleased and proud to call her own,
Witness how oft upon my noble Friend
Mute offerings, tribute from an inward sense
Of admiration and respectful love,
Have waited, till the affections could no more
Endure that silence, and broke out in song,
Snatches of music taken up and dropped,
Like those self-solacing, those under notes
Trilled by the redbreast, when autumnal leaves
Are thin upon the bough. Mine, only mine,
The pleasure was, and no one heard the praise,
Checked, in the moment of its issue, checked
And reprehended, by a fancied blush
From the pure qualities that called it forth.
Thus Virtue lives debarred from Virtue's meed; Thus, Lady, is retiredness a veil,
That, while it only spreads a softening charm
O'er features looked at by discerning eyes,
Hides half their beauty from the common gaze;
And thus, even on the exposed and breezy hill
Of lofty station, female goodness walks,
When side by side with lunar gentleness,
As in a cloister. Yet the grateful Poor
(Such the immunities of low estate,
Plain Nature's enviable privilege,
Her sacred recompense for my wants)
Open their hearts before Thee, pouring out
All that they think and feel, with tears of joy,
And benedictions not unheard in heaven:
And friend in the ear of friend, where speech is free
To follow truth, is eloquent as they.
Then let the Book receive in these prompt lines A just memorial; and thine eyes consent To read that they, who mark thy course, behold
A life declining with the golden light
Of summer, in the season of sere leaves;
See cheerfulness undamped by stealing Time;
See studied kindness flow with easy stream,
Illustrated with inborn courtesy ;
And an habitual disregard of self
Balanced by vigilance for others' weal.
And shall the Verse not tell of lighter gifts
With these ennobling attributes conjoined
And blended, in peculiar harmony,
By youth's surviving spirit? What agile grace!
A nymph-like liberty, in nymph-like form,
Beheld with wonder; whether floor or path
Thou tread; or sweep, borne on the managed
steed,
Fleet as the shadows, over down or field,
Driven by strong winds at play among the clouds.
Which came, but it has passed into a prayer,-
That, as thy sun in brightness is declining,
at an hour yet distant for their sakes
Whose tender love, here faltering on the way
Of a diviner love, will be forgiven,
So
may it set in peace, to rise again
For everlasting glory won by faith.
AMONG the dwellers in the silent fields
The natural heart is touched, and public way
And crowded street resound with ballad strains,
Inspired by ONE whose very name bespeaks
Favor divine, exalting human love;
Whom, since her birth on bleak Northumbria's
Known unto few, but prized as far as known,
A single Act endears to high and low
Through the whole land; to Manhood, moved in spite
Of the world's freezing cares; to generous Youth;
To Infancy, that lisps her praise; to Age
Whose eye reflects it, glistening through a tear
Of tremulous admiration. Such true fame
Awaits her now; but, verily, good deeds
Do no imperishable record find,
Save in the rolls of heaven, where hers may
A theme for angels, when they celebrate
The high-souled virtues which forgetful earth
Has witnessed. O that winds and waves could
Of things which their united power called forth From the pure depths of her humanity!
A Maiden gentle, yet, at duty's call,
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