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In silence Matthew lay, and eyed
The spring beneath the tree;
And thus the dear old man replied,
The gray-haired man of glee:

“ Down to the vale this water steers, How merrily it goes ! 'Twill murmur on a thousand years, And flow as now it flows.

“ And here, on this delightful day,
I cannot choose but think
How oft, a vigorous man, I lay
Beside this Fountain's brink.

“My eyes are dim with childish tears,
My heart is idly stirred,
For the same sound is in my ears
Which in those days I heard.

“ Thus fares it still in our decay :
And yet the wiser mind
Mourns less for what


away Than what it leaves behind.

“ The Blackbird in the summer trees,
The Lark upon the hill,
Let loose their carols when they please,
Are quiet when they will.

6 With Nature never do they wage
A foolish strife; they see
A happy youth, and their old age
Is beautiful and free:

“ But we are pressed by heavy laws;
And often, glad no more,
We wear a face of joy, because
We have been glad of yore.

“ If there is one who need bemoan
His kindred laid in earth,
The household hearts that were his own,
It is the man of mirth,

“ My days, my Friend, are almost gone, My life has been approved, And many

love me; but by none Am I enough beloved.”

“ Now both himself and me he wrongs,
The man who thus complains !
I live and sing my idle songs
Upon these happy plains,

“ And, Matthew, for thy Children dead I'll be a son to thee!” At this he grasped my hand, and said, “ Alas! that cannot be.”

We rose up

from the fountain-side; And down the smooth descent Of the green sheep-track did we glide; And through the wood we went;

And, ere we came to Leonard's Rock,
He sang those witty rhymes
About the crazy old church clock,
And the bewildered chimes.




How richly glows the water's breast
Before us, tinged with evening hues,
While, facing thus the crimson west,
The Boat her silent course pursues !
And see how dark the backward stream!
A little moment past so smiling!
And still, perhaps, with faithless gleam,
Some other Loiterers beguiling.

Such views the youthful Bard allure;
But, heedless of the following gloom,
He deems their colours shall endure
Till peace go with him to the tomb.

- And let him nurse his fond deceit,
And what if he must die in sorrow !
Who would not cherish dreams so sweet,
Though grief and pain may come to-morrow?




GLIDE gently, thus for ever glide,
O Thames ! that other Bards may see
As lovely visions by thy side
As now, fair River ! come to me.
O glide, fair Stream ! for ever so,
Thy quiet soul on all bestowing,
Till all our minds for ever flow,
As thy deep waters now are flowing.

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