An idolizing dreamer as of yore!—

I slight them all; and, on this sea-beat shore 10 Sole-sitting, only can to thoughts attend

That bid me hail thee as the SAILOR'S FRIEND; So call thee for heaven's grace through thee made known

By confidence supplied and mercy shown, When not a twinkling star or beacon's light 15 Abates the perils of a stormy night;

And for less obvious benefits, that find

Their way, with thy pure help, to heart and mind;

Both for the adventurer starting in life's prime; And veteran ranging round from clime to clime, Long-baffled hope's slow fever in his veins, 21 And wounds and weakness oft his labour's sole remains.

The aspiring Mountains and the winding Streams,

Empress of Night! are gladdened by thy beams;

25

A look of thine the wilderness pervades,
And penetrates the forest's inmost shades;
Thou, chequering peaceably the minster's

gloom,

Guid'st the pale Mourner to the lost one's tomb;

30

Canst reach the Prisoner-to his grated cell
Welcome, though silent and intangible!—
And lives there one, of all that come and go
On the great waters toiling to and fro,
One, who has watched thee at some quiet hour
Enthroned aloft in undisputed power,

Or crossed by vapoury streaks and clouds that

move

Catching the lustre they in part reprove

35

Nor sometimes felt a fitness in thy sway To call up thoughts that shun the glare of day,

And make the serious happier than the gay?

Yes, lovely Moon! if thou so mildly bright 40 Dosi rouse, yet surely in thy own despite, To fiercer mood the phrenzy-stricken brain, Let me a compensating faith maintain; That there's a sensitive, a tender, part Which thou canst touch in every human heart, For healing and composure.-But as least 46 And mightiest billows ever have confessed Thy domination; as the whole vast Sea Feels through her lowest depths thy sovereignty;

So shines that countenance with especial

grace

50

On them who urge the keel her plains to trace Furrowing its way right onward. The most rude,

Cut off from home and country, may have stood

55

Even till long gazing hath bedimmed his eye,
Or the mute rapture ended in a sigh-
Touched by accordance of thy placid cheer,
With some internal lights to memory dear,
Or fancies stealing forth to soothe the breast
Tired with its daily share of earth's unrest,-
Gentle awakenings, visitations meek;
A kindly influence whereof few will speak,
Though it can wet with tears the hardiest
cheek.

60

And when thy beauty in the shadowy cave Is hidden, buried in its monthly grave; Then, while the Sailor, 'mid an open sea 65

Swept by a favouring wind that leaves thought

free,

Paces the deck-no star perhaps in sight,
And nothing save the moving ship's own light
To cheer the long dark hours of vacant night-
Oft with his musings does thy image blend, 70
In his mind's eye thy crescent horns ascend,
And thou art still, O Moon, that SAILOR'S
FRIEND!

1835.

XIII.

TO THE MOON.

(RYDAL.)

QUEEN of the stars!-so gentle, so benign,
That ancient Fable did to thee assign,
When darkness creeping o'er thy silver brow
Warned thee these upper regions to forego,
Alternate empire in the shades below-
A Bard, who, lately near the wide-spread sea
Traversed by gleaming ships, looked up to thee
With grateful thoughts, doth now thy rising
hail

5

ΙΟ

From the close confines of a shadowy vale.
Glory of night, conspicuous yet serene,
Nor less attractive when by glimpses seen
Through cloudy umbrage, well might that fair
face,

And all those attributes of modest grace,
In days when Fancy wrought unchecked by fear,
Down to the green earth fetch thee from thy
sphere,

To sit in leafy woods by fountains clear!

15

O still beloved (for thine, meek Power, are

charms

That fascinate the very Babe in arms, While he, uplifted towards thee, laughs outright,

Spreading his little palms in his glad Mother's

sight)

20

O still beloved, once worshipped! Time, that frowns

In his destructive flight on earthly crowns, Spares thy mild splendour; still those far-shot beams

Tremble on dancing waves and rippling streams With stainless touch, as chaste as when thy

praise

25

30

Was sung by Virgin-choirs in festal lays;
And through dark trials still dost thou explore
Thy way for increase punctual as of yore,
When teeming Matrons-yielding to rude faith
In mysteries of birth and life and death
And painful struggle and deliverance-prayed
Of thee to visit them with lenient aid.
What though the rites be swept away, the fanes
Extinct that echoed to the votive strains;
Yet thy mild aspect does not, cannot, cease 35
Love to promote and purity and peace;
And Fancy, unreproved, even yet may trace
Faint types of suffering in thy beamless face.

41

Then, silent Monitress! let us-not blind To worlds unthought of till the searching mind Of Science laid them open to mankind— Told, also, how the voiceless heavens declare God's glory; and acknowledging thy share In that blest charge; let us-without offence To aught of highest, holiest, influenceReceive whatever good 'tis given thee to dis

pense.

May sage and simple, catching with one eye

45

The moral intimations of the sky,

Learn from thy course, where'er their own be

taken,

"To look on tempests, and be never shaken ;" To keep with faithful step the appointed way 51 Eclipsing or eclipsed, by night or day,

And from example of thy monthly range Gently to brook decline and fatal change; Meek, patient, stedfast, and with loftier scope, Than thy revival yields, for gladsome hope! 56

1835.

XIV.

TO LUCCA GIORDANO.

GIORDANO, verily thy Pencil's skill

Hath here portrayed with Nature's happiest

grace

5

The fair Endymion couched on Latmos-hill;
And Dian gazing on the Shepherd's face
In rapture, yet suspending her embrace,
As not unconscious with what power the thrill
Of her most timid touch his sleep would chase,
And, with his sleep, that beauty calm and still.
O may this work have found its last retreat
Here in a Mountain-bard's secure abode,
One to whom, yet a School-boy, Cynthia showed
A face of love which he in love would greet,
Fixed, by her smile, upon some rocky seat;
Or lured along where green-wood paths he trod.
RYDAL MOUNT, 1846.

IO

XV.

WHO but is pleased to watch the moon on high Travelling where she from time to time enshrouds Her head, and nothing loth her Majesty