Plain living and high thinking are no more.
The homely beauty of the good old cause
Is gone; our peace, our fearful innocence,
And pure religion breathing household laws.

Poems dedicated to National Independence. Part i.
September, 1802.

Thy soul was like a Star, and dwelt apart. London, 1802.

So didst thou travel on life's common way,

In cheerful godliness.

We must be free or die, who speak the tongue
That Shakespeare spake; the faith and morals hold
Which Milton held.

Every gift of noble origin

Ibid.

Sonnet xvi.

Is breathed upon by Hope's perpetual breath. Sonnet xx.

A few strong instincts, and a few plain rules.

That God's most dreaded instrument,

In working out a pure intent,

Is man, arrayed for mutual slaughter;
Yea, Carnage is his daughter.1

Part ii. Sonnet xii.

The sightless Milton, with his hair
Around his placid temples curled;
And Shakespeare at his side, a freight,
If clay could think and mind were weight,
For him who bore the world!

Ode, 1815.

The Italian Itinerant.

Turning, for them who pass, the common dust

Of servile opportunity to gold.

Desultory Stanzas.

1 Altered in later editions by omitting the last two lines, the

others reading,

But Man is thy most awful instrument

In working out a pure intent.

Meek Nature's evening comment on the shows
That for oblivion take their daily birth

From all the fuming vanities of Earth.

Sky-Prospect, from the Plain of France.

The monumental pomp of age
Was with this goodly Personage;
A stature undepressed in size,
Unbent, which rather seemed to rise,
In open victory o'er the weight

Of seventy years, to loftier height.

The White Doe of Rylstone. Canto iii.

Babylon,

Learned and wise, hath perished utterly,

Nor leaves her Speech one word to aid the sigh
That would lament her.

Ecclesiastical Sonnets. Part i. xxv. Missions and Travels.

As thou these ashes, little Brook! wilt bear

Into the Avon, Avon to the tide

Of Severn, Severn to the narrow seas,

Into main ocean they, this deed accursed

An emblem yields to friends and enemies
How the bold Teacher's Doctrine, sanctified
By truth, shall spread, throughout the world dispersed.1
Part ii. xvii. To Wickliffe.

1 In obedience to the order of the Council of Constance (1415), the remains of Wickliffe were exhumed and burnt to ashes, and these cast into the Swift, a neighbouring brook running hard by, and "thus this brook hath conveyed his ashes into Avon; Avon into Severn; Severn into the narrow seas; they into the main ocean. And thus the ashes of Wickliffe are the emblem of his doctrine, which now is dispersed all the world over."- Fuller, Church History, Sec. ii. Book iv. Par. 53.

Fox says: "What Heraclitus would not laugh, or what Democritus would not weep? . . . . For though they digged up his body, burnt his bones, and drowned his ashes, yet the word of God and

The feather, whence the pen

Was shaped that traced the lives of these good men, Dropped from an angel's wing.1

Ecclesiastical Sonnets. Part iii. v.

Walton's Book of Lives.

Ibid.

Meek Walton's heavenly memory.

But who would force the Soul tilts with a straw
Against a Champion cased in adamant.

Part iii. vii. Persecution of the Scottish Covenanters.

Where music dwells

Lingering, and wandering on as loth to die;
Like thoughts whose very sweetness yieldeth proof
That they were born for immortality.

Part iii. xliii. Inside of King's Chapel, Cambridge.
Myriads of daisies have shone forth in flower
Near the lark's nest, and in their natural hour
Have passed away; less happy than the one
That, by the unwilling ploughshare, died to prove
The tender charm of poetry and love.

Poems composed in Summer of 1833. xxxvii.

truth of his doctrine, with the fruit and success thereof, they could not burn."- Book of Martyrs, Vol. i. p. 606, ed. 1641.

"Some prophet of that day said,

The Avon to the Severn runs,

The Severn to the sea;

And Wickliffe's dust shall spread abroad,

Wide as the waters be.'"

From Address before the Sons of New Hampshire, by Daniel
Webster, 1849.

These lines are similarly quoted by the Rev. John Cumming in the Voices of the Dead.

1 The pen wherewith thou dost so heavenly sing Made of a quill from an angel's wing.

Henry Constable, Sonnet.

Whose noble praise

Deserves a quill pluckt from an angel's wing.

Dorothy Berry, Sonnet.

Nor less I deem that there are Powers
Which of themselves our minds impress;
That we can feed this mind of ours
In a wise passiveness.

Expostulation and Reply.

Up! up! my Friend, and quit your books,
Or surely you '11 grow `double:

Up! up! my Friend, and clear your looks;
Why all this toil and trouble?

Come forth into the light of things,

Let Nature be your Teacher.

One impulse from a vernal wood

May teach you more of man,

Of moral evil and of good,

Than all the sages can.

The Tables Turned.

In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts

Bring sad thoughts to the mind.

Ibid.

Ibid.

Lines written in Early Spring.

And 't is faith, that
my
Enjoys the air it breathes.

O Reader! had you in

your

mind

Such stores as silent thought can bring,

O gentle Reader! you would find

A tale in everything.

I've heard of hearts unkind, kind deeds

With coldness still returning;

Ibid.

Simon Lee.

Alas! the gratitude of men

Hath oftener left me mourning.

Ibid.

One that would peep and botanize
Upon his mother's grave.

A Poet's Epitaph. Stanza 5.

He murmurs near the running brooks
A music sweeter than their own.

A Poet's Epitaph. Stanza 10.

And you must love him, ere to you
He will seem worthy of your love.

The harvest of a quiet eye,

That broods and sleeps on his own heart.

Yet, sometimes, when the secret cup
Of still and serious thought went round,
It seemed as if he drank it up,
He felt with spirit so profound.

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.

A happy youth, and their old age
Is beautiful and free.

And often, glad no more,
We wear a face of joy, because

Stanza 11.

Stanza 13.

Matthew.

The Fountain.

Ibid.

We have been glad of yore.

Ibia.

Maidens withering on the stalk. Personal Talk. Stanza 1.

Sweetest melodies

Are those that are by distance made more sweet.

Stanza 2.

Dreams, books, are each a world; and books, we know,
Are a substantial world, both pure and good;
Round these, with tendrils strong as flesh and blood,
Our pastime and our happiness will grow.

The gentle Lady married to the Moor,

And heavenly Una with her milk-white Lamb.

Stanza 3.

Ibid.