With quickening pace my horse drew nigh And now we reach'd the orchard-plot; And, as we climb'd the hill, The sinking moon to Lucy's cot Came near, and nearer still. In one of those sweet dreams I slept, And all the while my eyes I kept My horse moved on; hoof after hoof What fond and wayward thoughts will slide Into a Lover's head! "O mercy!" to myself I cried, "If Lucy should be dead!" 1799. 1800. II SHE dwelt among the untrodden ways A Maid whom there were none to praise A violet by a mossy stone 12 16 20 24 28 -Fair as a star, when only one Is shining in the sky. She lived unknown, and few could know When Lucy ceased to be; But she is in her grave, and oh, The difference to me! 1799. 1800, III I TRAVELL'D among unknown men, 'T is past, that melancholy dream! Nor will I quit thy shore A second time; for still I seem To love thee more and more. Among thy mountains did I feel The joy of my desire; And she I cherish'd turn'd her wheel Beside an English fire. Thy mornings show'd, thy nights conceal'd The bowers where Lucy play'd; And thine too is the last green field That Lucy's eyes survey’d. 1799. 1807. 8 12 8 12 16 IV THREE years she grew in sun and shower; On earth was never sown; Myself will to my darling be The Girl, in rock and plain, In earth and heaven, in glade and bower, To kindle or restrain. 64 She shall be sportive as the fawn That wild with glee across the lawn, Or up the mountain springs; And hers shall be the breathing balm, Of mute insensate things. "The floating clouds their state shall lend To her; for her the willow bend; Nor shall she fail to see Even in the motions of the Storm Grace that shall mould the Maiden's form By silent sympathy. 12 18 24 "The stars of midnight shall be dear To her; and she shall lean her ear In many a secret place Where rivulets dance their wayward round, And beauty born of murmuring sound Shall pass into her face. “And vital feelings of delight Shall rear her form to stately height, Such thoughts to Lucy I will give Here in this happy dell." Thus Nature spake-The work was done- She died, and left to me This heath, this calm and quiet scene; The memory of what has been, And never more will be. 1799. 1800. 30 42 A SLUMBER did my spirit seal; She seem'd a thing that could not feel No motion has she now, no force; Roll'd round in earth's diurnal course, 1799. 1800. 8 William Wordsworth, 1806. ROSE AYLMER Ан what avails the sceptred race, Rose Aylmer, whom these wakeful eyes A night of memories and of sighs I consecrate to thee. Walter Savage Landor. THE MAID'S LAMENT I LOVED him not; and yet, now he is gone, I checked him while he spoke; yet could he speak, Alas! I would not check. For reasons not to love him once I sought, To vex myself and him: I now would give Who lately lived for me, and when he found 10 |