Page 187. Line 26. "Teaching us to forget them or forgive." This is borrowed from an affecting passage in Mr. George Dyer's History of Cambridge. See Burnet, who is unusually animated on this subject: the east wind, so anxiously expected and prayed for, was called the Protestant wind." Page 190. Line 10. "Yet will we not conceal the precious Cross, Like Men ashamed." The Lutherans have retained the Cross within their Churches: it is to be regretted that we have not done the same. Page 193. Line 6. "Or like the Alpine Mount, that takes its name From roseate hues," &c. Some say that Monte Rosa takes its name from a belt of rock at its summit-a very unpoetical and scarcely a probable supposition. 205 POEMS OF SENTIMENT AND REFLECTION. I. EXPOSTULATION AND REPLY. "WHY, William, on that old gray stone, Thus for the length of half a day, Why, William, sit you thus alone, And dream your time away? Where are your books? — that light bequeathed To beings else forlorn and blind! Up! up and drink the spirit breathed You look round on your mother Earth, One morning thus, by Esthwaite lake," "The eye it cannot choose but see; We cannot bid the ear be still; Our bodies feel, where'er they be, Nor less I deem that there are Powers Think you, 'mid all this mighty sum Of things for ever speaking, That nothing of itself will come, But we must still be seeking? Then ask not wherefore, here, alone, Conversing as I may, I sit upon this old gray stone, II. THE TABLES TURNED; AN EVENING SCENE ON THE SAME SUBJECT. Up! up! my Friend, and quit your books; Up! up! my Friend, and clear your looks ; The sun, above the mountain's head, A freshening lustre mellow Through all the long green fields has spread, His first sweet evening yellow. Books! 'tis a dull and endless strife: And hark! how blithe the Throstle sings! He, too, is no mean preacher : Come forth into the light of things, Let Nature be your teacher. Spontaneous wisdom breathed by health, Truth breathed by cheerfulness. One impulse from a vernal wood Of moral evil and of good, Than all the sages can. Sweet is the lore which Nature brings; Our meddling intellect Mis-shapes the beauteous forms of things: We murder to dissect. Enough of Science and of Art; Close up these barren leaves; Come forth, and bring with you a heart That watches and receives. III. WRITTEN IN GERMANY, ON ONE OF THE COLDEST DAYS OF THE CENTURY. The Reader must be apprised, that the Stoves in North-Germany generally have the impression of a galloping Horse upon them, this being part of the Brunswick Arms. A PLAGUE on your languages, German and Norse! And the tongs and the poker, instead of that Horse See that Fly, a disconsolate creature! perhaps And, sorrow for him! the dull treacherous heat Alas! how he fumbles about the domains He cannot find out in what track he must crawl, Stock-still there he stands like a traveller bemazed: His feelers, methinks, I can see him put forth To the East and the West, to the South and the North; But he finds neither Guide-post nor Guide. |