Pause, Traveller! whosoe'er thou be, 451 Pelion and Ossa flourish side by side, 216 People! your chains are severing link by link, 272, 303 Perhaps some needful service of the State, 458 Pleasures newly found are sweet, 140
Portentous change when History can appear, 273 Praised be the Art whose subtle power could stay, 217 Praised be the Rivers, from their mountain springs, 356 Prejudged by foes determined not to spare, 362 Presentiments! they judge not right, 417 Prompt transformation works the novel Lore, 351 Proud were ye, Mountains, when in times of old, 236 Pure element of waters! wheresoe'er, 226
Queen of the Stars!-so gentle, so benign, 430 Ranging the heights of Scawfell or Black-comb, 309 Rapt above earth by power of one fair face, 325 Realms quake by turns: proud Arbitress of grace, 354 Record we too, with just and faithful pen, 355 Redoubted King, of courage leonine, 354 Reluctant call it was; the rite delayed, 272 Rest, rest, perturbed Earth, 465
Return, Content! for fondly I pursued, 298 Rise!-they have risen: of brave Aneurin ask, 349 Rotha, my Spiritual Child! this head was grey, 230 Rude is this Edifice, and Thou hast seen, 450 Sacred Religion! Mother of form and fear, 296
Take, cradled Nursling of the mountain, take, 284 Tax not the royal Saint with vain expense, 369
Tell me, ye Zephyrs! that unfold, 144 Tenderly do we feel by Nature's law, 275 Thanks for the lessons of this Spot-fit school, 312 That happy gleam of vernal eyes, 410
That heresies should strike (if truth be scanned, 349 That is work of waste and ruin, 73 That way look, my Infant, lo, 143
The Baptist might have been ordained to cry, 325 The Bard-whose soul is meek as dawning day, 265 The captive Bird was gone; - to cliff or moor, 311 The cattle crowding round this beverage clear, 308 The cock is crowing, 171
The Crescent-moon, the Star of Love, 429 The Danish Conqueror on his royal chair, 413 The days are cold, the nights are long, 102 The dew was falling fast, the stars began to blink, 78 The embowering rose, the acacia, and the pine, 449
Sad thoughts, avaunt !—partake we their blithe cheer, 297 The encircling ground in native turf arrayed, 369 Said Secrecy to Cowardice and Fraud, 273
Say, what is Honour?-'T is the finest sense, 260 Say, ye far-travelled clouds, far-seeing hills, 302 Scattering, like birds escaped the fowler's net, 360 Scorn not the Sonnet; Critic you have frowned, 223 Screams round the Arch-druid's brow the sea-mew- white, 348
Seek who will delight in fable, 84
See the condemned alone within his cell, 277
See what gay wild flowers deck this earth-built Cot, 304 See, where his difficult way that Old Man wins, 326 Serving no haughty Muse, my hands have here, 237 Seven Daughters had Lord Archibald, 146 Shade of Caractacus, if spirits love, 272
Shame on this faithless heart! that could allow, 228 She dwelt among the untrodden ways, 96 She was a Phantom of delight, 166 Show me the noblest Youth of present time, 177 Shout, for a mighty Victory is won, 257 Shun not this Rite, neglected, yea abhorred, 367 Since risen from ocean, ocean to defy, 311 Six months to six years added he remained, 460 Six thousand veterans practised in war's game, 245 Small service is true service while it lasts, 437 Smile of the Moon!-for so I name, 99
So fair, so sweet, withal so sensitive, 403 Soft as a cloud is you blue Ridge-the Mere, 427 Sole listener, Duddon! to the breeze that played, 294 Soon did the Almighty giver of all rest, 436 Spade! with which Wilkinson hath tilled his lands, 396 Stay, bold Adventurer; rest awhile thy limbs, 450 Stay, little cheerful Robin! stay, 419
Stay near me do not take thy flight, 73 Stern Daughter of the Voice of God, 425 Strange fits of passion have I known, 96 Stranger! this hillock of mis-shapen stones, 450 Strange visitation! at Jemima's lip, 229 Stretched on the dying Mother's lap, lies dead, 314
The fairest, brightest hues of ether fade, 216 The feudal Keep, the bastions of Cohorn, 309 The fields which with covetous spirit we sold, 101 The floods are roused, and will not soon be weary, The forest huge of ancient Caledon, 305 The formal World relaxes her cold chain, 277 The gallant Youth, who may have gained, 300 The gentlest Poet, with free thoughts endowed, 192 The gentlest Shade that walked Elysian plains, 237 The God of Love-ah benedicite! 443 The imperial consort of the Fairy-king, 218 The imperial Stature, the colossal stride, 228 The Kirk of Ulpha to the Pilgrim's eye, 299 The Knight had ridden down from Wensley Moor, 184 The Land we from our fathers had in trust, 259 The leaves that rustled on this oak-crowned hill, 427 The linnet's warble, sinking towards a close, 426 -The little hedge-row birds, 456
The lovely Nun (submissive, but more meek, 358 The Lovers took within this ancient grove, 313 The martial courage of a day is vain, 260 The massy Ways, carried across these heights, 452 The Minstrels played their Christmas tune, 293 The most alluring clouds that mount the sky, 233 The old inventive Poets, had they seen, 297 The oppression of the tumult-wrath and scorn, 350 The peace which others seek they find, 97 The pibroch's note, discountenanced or mute, 302 The post-boy drove with fierce career, 75 The Power of Armies is a visible thing, 263 The prayers I make will then be sweet indeed, 220 There are no colours in the fairest sky, 364 There is a bondage worse, far worse, to bear, 256 There is a change- and I am poor, 98 There is a Flower, the lesser Celandine, 456 There is a little unpretending Rill, 216
There is an Eminence, of these our hills, 132
There is a pleasure in poetic pains, 225
There is a Thorn-it looks so old, 182
There is a Yew-tree, pride of Lorton Vale, 164 There never breathed a man who, when his life, 458 There! said a Stripling, pointing with meek pride, 313 There's George Fisher, Charles Fleming, and Reginald Shore, 77
There's more in words than I can teach, 126
There's not a nook within this solemn Pass, 302 There's something in a flying horse, 195
1799 There was a Boy: ye knew him well, ye cliffs, 163 There was a roaring in the wind all night, 180
There was a time when meadow, grove and stream, 470 The Roman Consul doomed his sons to die, 275 The Sabbath bells renew the inviting peal, 367 The saintly Youth has ceased to rule, discrowned, 360 These had given earliest notice, as the lark, 356 These times strike monied worldlings with dismay, 256 These Tourists, Heaven preserve us! needs must live, 87 These words were uttered as in pensive mood, 227 The Sheep-boy whistled loud, and lo! 462 The Shepherd, looking eastward, softly said, 225 -The sky is overcast, 164
The soaring lark is blest as proud, 189 The Spirit of Antiquity-enshrined, 278
The stars are mansions built by Nature's hand, 224 The struggling Rill insensibly is grown, 295 182 The sun has long been set, 428
The sun is couched, the sea-fowl gone to rest, 428 The Sun, that seemed so mildly to retire, 427 The sylvan slopes with corn-clad fields, 414 The tears of man in various measure gush, 359 The Troop will be impatient; let us hie, 45
Through shattered galleries, 'mid roofless halls, 229 Thus all things lead to Charity, secured. 368 Thus is the storm abated by the craft, 357 Thy functions are ethereal, 213
'Tis eight o'clock, a clear March night, 110 'Tis gone with old belief and dream, 415 'Tis he whose yester-evening's high disdain, 234 'Tis not for the unfeeling, the falsely refined, 455 'Tis said, fantastic ocean doth enfold, 278 'Tis said, that some have died for love, 97 'Tis said that to the brow of yon fair hill, 231
'Tis spent this burning day of June, 154 To a good Man of most dear memory, 467
To appease the Gods; or public thanks to yield, 287 To barren heath, bleak moor, and quaking fen, 249 To kneeling Worshippers, no earthly floor, 367 Too frail to keep the lofty vow, 238
To public notice, with reluctance strong, 463 Toussaint, the most unhappy man of men, 254 Tracts let me follow far from human kind, 281 Tradition, be thou mute! Oblivion, throw, 303 Tranquillity! the sovereign aim wert thou, 314 Troubled long with warring notions, 451
True is it that Ambrosio Salinero, 459
'Twas Summer and the sun had mounted high, 553 Two Voices are there; one is of the sea, 255
Under the shadow of a stately Pile, 325 Ungrateful Country, if thou e'er forget, 363 Unless to Peter's Chair the viewless wind. 355 Unquiet childhood here by special grace, 230 Untouched through all severity of cold, 231
The turbaned Race are poured in thickening swarms, 354 Up, Timothy, up with your staff and away, 102
The unremitting voice of nightly streams, 409 The valley rings with mirth and joy, 79 The Vested Priest before the Altar stands, 366 The Virgin Mountain, wearing like a Queen, 361 The Voice of Song, from distant lands shall call, 254 The wind is now thy organist; -a clank, 302 The woman-hearted Confessor prepares, 353 The world forsaken, all its busy cares, 324 The world is too much with us late and soon, 221 They called Thee Merry England, in old time, 307 They dreamt not of a perishable home, 370 The Young-ones gathered in from hill and dale, 366 They seek, are sought; to daily battle led, 263 They who have seen the noble Roman's scorn, 322 This Height a ministering Angel might select, 165 This Land of Rainbows (spanning glens whose walls, 302 This Lawn, a carpet all alive, 402
This Spot-at once unfolding sight so fair, 275 Those breathing Tokens of our kind regard, 189 Those old credulities, to nature dear, 322 Those silver clouds collected round the sun, 171 Though I beheld at first with blank surprise, 234 Though joy attend Thee orient at the birth, 304 Though many suns have risen and set, 407 Though narrow be that old Man's cares, and near, 229 Tho' searching damps and many an envious flaw, 285 Though the bold wings of Poesy affect 233 Though the torrents from their fountains, 146 Though to give timely warning and deter, 276 Thou look'st upon me, and dost fondly think, 308 Thou sacred Pile! whose turrets rise, 283 Threats come which no submission may assuage, 358 17 Three years she grew in sun and shower, 166 Throned in the Sun's descending car, 428
Up to the throne of God is borne, 410
Up! up! my Friend, and quit your books, 393 Up with me! up with me into the clouds, 145 Urged by Ambition, who with subtlest skill, 353 Uttered by whom, or how inspired-designed, 20 Vallombrosa! I longed in thy shadiest wood, 287 Vallombrosa-I longed in thy shadiest wood, 325 Vanguard of Liberty, ye men of Kent, 256
Wait, prithee, wait! this answer Lesbia threw, 233 Wanderer! that stoop'st so low, and com'st so near, Wansfell! this Household has a favoured lot, 236 Ward of the Law!-dread Shadow of a King, Was it to disenchant, and to undo, 279 Was the aim frustrated by force or guile, 226 Watch, and be firm! for, soul-subduing vice, 349 Weak is the will of Man, his judgment blind. 180 We can endure that He should waste our lands, 262 Weep not, beloved Friends! nor let the air, 459 We have not passed into a doleful City, 313 Well have yon Railway Labourers to THIS ground, 237 Well sang the Bard who called the grave, in strains, 309 Well worthy to be magnified are they, 364 Were there, below, a spot of holy ground, 29 We saw, but surely, in the motley crowd, 312. We talked with open heart, and tongue, 401. We walked along, while bright and red, 401. What aim had they, the Pair of Monks, in size, 325 What aspect bore the Man who roved or fled, 293. What awful perspective! while from our sight, 369. What beast in wilderness or cultured field, 357. What beast of chase hath broken from the cover. What crowd is this? what have we here! we must mOR pass it by, 170.
What heavenly smiles! O Lady mine, 98.
What He who, 'mid the kindred throng, 250. What if our numbers barely could defy, 272. What is good for a bootless bene, 412. What know we of the Blest above, 281.
What lovelier home could gentle Fancy choose, 279. What mischief cleaves to unsubdued regret, 429. What need of clamorous bells, or ribands gay, 219. What strong allurement draws, what spirit guides, 235 What though the accused, upon his own appeal, 422 What though the Italian pencil wrought not here, 282 What way does the Wind come? What way does he go, 74 What, you are stepping westward? - Yea, 241 When Alpine Vales threw forth a suppliant cry, 363 Whence that low voice?-A whisper from the heart, 297 When, far and wide, swift as the beams of morn, 258 When first descending from the moorlands, 468 When haughty expectations prostrate lie, 224 When here with Carthage Rome to conflict came, 323 When human touch (as monkish books attest), 232 When I have borne in memory what has tamed, 255 When in the antique age of bow and spear, 412 When, looking on the present face of things, 256 When Philoctetes in the Lemnian isle, 229 When Ruth was left half desolate, 173 When the Brothers reached the gateway, 167
When the soft hand of sleep had closed the latch, 265 When, to the attractions of the busy world, 133 Where are they now, those wanton Boys, 172 Where art thou, my beloved Son, 101 Where be the noisy followers of the game, 290 Where be the temples which, in Britain's Isle, 91 Where holy ground begins, unhallowed ends. 228 Where lies the Land to which yon Ship must go, 220 Where lies the truth? has Man in wisdom's creed, 431 Where long and deeply hath been fixed the root, 371 Where towers are crushed, and unforbidden weeds, 327 Where will they stop those breathing Powers, 407 While they who once were Anna's playmates tread, 230 While beams of orient light shoot wide and high, 236 While flowing rivers yield a blameless sport, 218 While from the purpling east departs, 406 While Merlin paced the Cornish sands, 206 While not a leaf seems faded; while the fields, 223 While poring Antiquarians search the ground, 231 While the Poor gather round till the end of time, 305 Who but hails the sight with pleasure, 149 Who but is pleased to watch the moon on high, 430 Who comes with rapture greeted, and caressed, 362 Who fancied what a pretty sight, 146 Who is the happy Warrior? Who is he, 394 Who ponders National events shall find, 273 Who rashly strove thy Image to portray, 394
Who rises on the banks of Seine, 257
Who swerves from innocence, who makes divorce, 298 Why art thou silent! Is thy love a plant, 232 Why cast ye back upon the Gallic shore, 289 Why, Minstrel, these untuneful murmurings, 217 Why should the Enthusiast, journeying thro' this Isle, 307 Why should we weep or mourn, Angelic boy, 469 Why sleeps the future, as a snake enrolled, 370 Why stand we gazing on the sparkling Brine, 310 Why, William, on that old grey stone, 393 Wings have we-and as far as we can go, 222 Wisdom and Spirit of the universe, 80 With copious eulogy in prose or rhyme, 466 With each recurrence of this glorious morn, 218 With earnest look, to every voyager, 313
With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb'st the sky, Within her gilded cage confined, 139 Within our happy Castle there dwelt One, 95 Within the mind strong fancies work, 191 With little here to do or see, 145
With sacrifice before the rising morn, 175 With Ships the sea was sprinkled far and nigh, 221 Woe to the Crown that doth the Cowl obey, 353 Woe to you, Prelates! rioting in ease, 357 Woman! the Power who left his throne on high, 367 Wouldst thou be taught when sleep has taken flight, 192 Would that our scrupulous sires had dared to leave, 363
Ye Apennines! with all your fertile vales, 318 Ye brood of conscience-Spectres! that frequent, 276 Ye Lime-trees, ranged before this hallowed Urn, 449 Ye sacred Nurseries of blooming Youth, 228 Ye shadowy Beings that have rights and claims, 312 Yes! hope may with my strong desire keep pace, 219 Yes, if the intensities of hope and fear, 365 Yes, it was the mountain Echo, 188 Yes, there is holy pleasure in thine eye, 216 Yes! thou art fair, yet be not moved, 98 Yes, though he well may tremble at the sound, 277 Ye Storms, resound the praises of your King, 264 Yet are they here the same unbroken knot, 171 Yet life you say is life; we have seen and see, 221 Yet more round many a Convent's blazing fire, 357 Yet some Novitiates of the cloistral shade, 358 Ye, too, must fly before a chasing hand, 358 Ye trees! whose slender roots entwine, 326 Yet Truth is keenly sought for, and the wind, 363 Yet, yet, Biscayans! we must meet our Foes, 262 Ye vales and hills whose beauty hither drew, 469 You call it, "Love lies bleeding,"—so you may, 151 You have heard a Spanish Lady, 107
YOUNG ENGLAND what is then become of Old, 275
CHRISTOPHER WORDSWORTH, D.D.,
CANON OF WESTMINSTER.
In Two Volumes.
TICKNOR & CO.,
WASHINGTON STREET, BOSTON.
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