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– Yes, without me, up hills so high *T is vain to strive for mastery. Then grieve por, jolly Team! though tough The road we travel, steep and rouglı. Though Rydal-heights and Dupmail-raise, And all their fellow Banks and Braes, Full often make you stretch and strain, And halt for breath and halt again, Yet to their sturdiness 't is owing That side by side we still are going!

Astounded in the mountain gap
By peals of thunder, clap ou clap!
And many a terror-striking Alash ;-
And somewhere, as it seems, a crash,
Among the rocks; with weight of rain,
And sullen motions long and slow,
That to a dreary distance go-
Till, breaking in upou the dying strain,
A rending o'er liis head begins the 'fray again.

Meanwhile, uncertain what to do, And oftentimes compelled to balt, The horses cautiously pursue Their way, without mishap or fault; And now have reached that pile of stones, Heaped over brave King Dunmail's bones; He who had once supreme command, Last king of rocky Cumberland; Ilis bones, and those of all his Power, Slain here in a disastrous hour!

While Benjamin in earnest mood His meditations thus pursued, A storm, which had been smothered long, Was growiog inwardly more strong ; And, in its struggles 10 get free, Was busily employed as he. The thunder had begun to growlHe beard not, too intent of soul; The air was now without a breathle marked not that 't was still as death. But soon large drops upon his head Fell with the weight of drops of lead ;Ile starts-aod, at the admonition, Takes a survey of his condition. The road is black before his eyes, Glimmering fainuy where it lies; Black is the sky-and every hill, Up to the sky, is blacker still; A huge and melancholy room, Hung round and overbung with gloom! Save that above a single licight Is to be seen a lurid light, Above Helm-eragi--a streak half dead, A burning of portentous red; And, ocar thal lurid light, full well The Astrologen, sage Sydrophel, Where at his desk aod book le sits, Pazzling on high his curious wits ; He whose domain is held in common With no one but the ANCIENT WOMAN, Cowering beside her rifted cell; As if intent on magic spell ;Dread pair, that, spite of wind and weather, Sull sit upon Helm-crag together!

When, passing through this narrow strait, Stony, and dark, and desolate, Benjimin can faintly hear A voice that comes from some one near, A female voice:-“Whoe'er you be, Stop,» it exclaimed, « and pity me.» And, less in pily than in wonder, Amid the darkness and the thunder, The Waggoner, with prompt command, Summons his horses to a stand.

The voice, to move commiseration, Prolonged its earnest supplication« This storm that beats so furiouslyThis dreadful place! oh pity me!»

While this was said, with sobs between, And many tears, by one unseen; There came a flash-a startling clare, And all Seat-Sandal was laid bare! *T is not a time for nice suggestion, And Benjamin, without further question, Taking her for some way-worn rover, Said, « Mount, and get you under cover!»

Another voice, in tone as hoarse As a swoln brook with rugged course, Cried out, «Good brother, why so fast? I've had a glimpse of you-avast! Or, since it suits you to be civil, Takс her at once-for good and evil!»

The ASTROLOGER was not unseen By solitary Benjamin : But total darkness came anon, And he and every thing was gone. And suddenly a ruftling breeze, (That would have sounded through the trees Had aught of sylvan growth been there) Was felt throughout the region bare: The rain rushed down--the road was battered, As with the force of billows shattered; The horses are dismayed, nor know Whether they should stand or go ; And Benjamin is groping near them, Sees nothing, and can scarcely hear them. He is astounded, - wonder not, With such a charge in such a spot;

«It is my Husband,» softly said The Woman, as if half afraid: By this time she was soug within, Through hielp of honest Benjamin; She and her Babe, which to her breast With thankfulness the Mother pressed; And now the same strong voice more near Said cordially, « My Friend, what cheer? Rough doings these! as God's my judge, The sky owes somebody a grudge! We've had in half an hour or less A twelvemonth's terror and distress!»

"A mountain of Grasmere, the broken summit of which prosents two figures, full as distinctly shaped as that of the famous Cobbler, Bear Arracber, lo Scotland.

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The Sailor gathers up his bed, Takes down the canvass overhead; And, after farewell to the place, A parting word--though not of grace, Pursues, with Ass and all his store, The way the Waggon went before.


« Blithe souls and lightsome hearts have we,
Feasting at the Cherry TREE!»
This was the outside proclamation,
This was the inside salutation;
What bustling-josting-liigh and low!
A universal overflow;
What tankards foaining from the tap!
What store of cakes in every lap!
What thumping-stumping-over-head!
The thunder had not been more busy:
With such a stir, you would have said,
This little place may well be dizzy!
'T is who can dance with greatest vigour--
"T is what can be most prompt

and eager;-
As if it heard the fiddle's call,
The pewter clatters on the wall;
The very bacon shows its feeling,
Swinging from the smoky ceiling!

my tale

IF Wytheburn's modest House of Prayer,
As lowly as the lowliest Dwelling,
Had, with its belfry's humble stock,
A little pair that liang in air,
Been mistress also of a Clock,
(And one, too, not in crazy plight)
Twelve strokes that Clock would have been telling
Under the brow of old Helvellyn-
Its bead-roll of midnight,
Then, when the Hero of
Was passing by, and down the vale
(The vale now silent, hushed I ween
As if a storm had never been)
Proceeding with an easy mind;
While he, who had been left behind,
Intent to use his utmost baste,
Gained ground upon the Waggon fast,
And gives another lusty chcer;
For spite of rumbling of the wheels,
A welcome greeting he can hear;-
It is a fiddle in its clee
Dinning from the CHERRY TREE!

Thence the sound-the light is there-
As Benjamin is now aware,
Who, to bis in ward thoughts confined,
Had almost reached the festive door,
When, startled by the Sailor's roar,
He hears a sound and sees the light,
And in a moment calls to mind

That 'l is the village Meray-nigúr! "A term well known in the North of England, and applied 10 rural Festivals where young persons meet in the evening for the purpose of dancing.

A steaming Bowl-a blazing fireWhat greater good can heart desire? "T were worth a wise man's while to try The utmost anger of the sky; To seek for thoughts of painful cast, If such bc the amends at last. Now, should you think I judge amiss, The Cherry Tree shows proof of this; For

soon, of all thic happy there,
Our Travellers are the happiest pair.
All care with Benjamin is gone-
A Cæsar past the Rubicon!
He thinks not of his long, long strife;-
The Sailor, Man by nature gay,
Hath no resolves to throw

And he hath now forgot his Wife,
Hath quite forgotten her-or may be
Deems that she is happier, laidi
Within that warm and peaceful bed;

Under cover,

Terror over,
Sleeping by her sleeping Baby.

With bowlin hand,

(It may not stand) Gladdest of the gladsome band, Amid their own delight and fun, They hear-when every dance is doneThey hear-when every fit is o'erThe fiddle's squeakı-that call to bliss, Ever followed by a kiss; They envy not the happy lot, But enjoy their own the more!

The Mastiff, from beneath the waggon,
Where he lay, watchful as a dragon,
Rattled his chain-'t was all in vain,
For Benjamin, triumphant soul!
He heard the monitory growl;
Heard-aud in opposition quaffed
A deep, determined, desperaie draught!
Nor did the battered Tar forget,
Or Binch from what he deemed his debt:
Then, like a hero crowned with laurel,
Back to lier place the ship he led;
Wheeled her back in full apparel;
And so, tlag flying at mast-head,
Re-yoked ber to the Ass : -anon,
Cries Benjamin, « We must be

gone.» Thus, afier two hours' hearty stay, Again behold them on their way!

While thus our jocund Travellers fare, Up springs the Sailor from his chairLimps (for I might bave told before That lie was lame) across the floorIs gone-returns-and with a prize? With wbat?-a Ship of lusty size; A gallant stately Man of War, Fixed on a sinoothly-sliding car. Surprise to all, but most surprise To Benjamin, wlio rubs his eyes, Not knowing that he had befriended A Man so gloriously attended!


- This,n cries the Sailor, « a Third-rate isStand back, and you shall see her gratis! This was the Flay-Ship at the Nile, The Vanguard-you may smirk and smile, But, pretty maid, if you look near, You 'll find you 've much in little liere! A nobler Slip did never swim, And you shall see her in full trim: I'll set, my Friends, to do you honour, Set every ioch of sail


her.» So said, so done; and masts, sails, yards, He games them all; and interlards His speech with uncouth terms of art, Accomplished in the Showman's part; And then, as from a sudden check, Cries out-u 'T is there, the Quarter-deck On which brave Admiral Nelson stoodA sight that would have roused your blood' One eye lie had, which, bright as ten, Burot like a fire among his men; Let this be Land, and that be Sea, Here lay the French-and thus came we!»

Rigur gladly had the horses stirred,
When they the wished-for greeting beard,
The whip's loud notice from the door,
That they were free to move once more.
You think, these doings must have bred
In them disheartening doubts and dread;
No, not a horse of all the eight,
Although it be a moonless night,
Fears either for himself or freight;
For this they know and let it lide,
In part, the offences of their Guide)
That Benjamin, with clouded brains,
Is worth the best with all their pains;
And, if they had a prayer to make,
would be that they may

With hin whatever comes in course,
The better fortune or the worse;
That no one else may have business near them,
And, drunk or sober, he may steer them.

So, forth in dauntless mood they fare, And with them goes the guardian pair.

Hushed was by this the fiddle's sound, The Dancers all were gathered round, And, such the stillness of the house, You might have heard a nibbling mouse; While, borrowing belps where'er he may, The Sulor through the story runs Of Ships to Ships and guns to guas; And does his utmost to display The dismal conflict, and the might And terror of that wondrous night! • A Bowl, a Bowl of double measure, Cries Benjamin, «a draught of length, To Nelson, England's pride and treasure, ller bulwark and her tower of strength!” When Benjamin had seized the bowl,

Now, heroes, for the true commotion, The triumph of your late devotion! Can auglit on earth impede delight, Sull mounting to a higher height; And bigher still--a greedy flight! Can any low-born care pursue her, Can

any mortal clog come to her ? No notiou have they-not a thought, That is from joyless regions brought! And, while they coast the silent lake, Their inspiration I partake; Share their empyreal spirits-yea, With their enraptured vision, seeO fancy-what a jubilee! What shifting pictures-clad in gleams Of colour bright as feverish dreams! Earıh, spangled sky, and lake serene, lavolved and restless all-a scene Pregnant with mutual exaltation, Rich change, and multiplied creation!

' At the close of carb atrathspey, or jig, a particular pote from the dule summons the Rustic to be agreeable duty of salating his Partear.

This sight to me the Muse imports ;-
And then, what kindness in their hearts !
What tears of rapture, what vow-making,
Profound entreaties, and hand-shaking!
What solemn, vacant, interlacing,
As if they 'd fall asleep embracing !
Then, in the turbulence of glee,
And in the excess of amily,
Says Benjamin, « That ass of thine,
He spoils thy sport, and hinders mine;
If he were tethered to the Wagcon,
He'd drag as well what he is dragging;
And we, as brother should with brother,
Might trudge it alongside each other!

Forthwith, obedient to command
The horses made a quict stand;
And to the Waggon's skirts was tied
The Creature, by the Mastiff's side
(The Mastiff not well pleased to be
So very near such company).
This new arrangement made, the Wain
Through the still night proceeds again :
No Moon hath risen her light to lend;
But indistinctly may be kenned
The VANGUARD, following close behind,
Sails spread, as if to cateh the wind!

« Thy Wife and Child are snug and warm,
Thy Ship will travel without harm;
I like,» said Benjamin, « her shape and stature;
And this of mine—this bulky Creature
Of which I have the steering-this,
Seen fairly, is not much amiss!
We want your streamers, Friend, you know;
But, all together, as we go,
We make a kind of handsome show!
Among these hills, from first to last,
We've weathered many a furious blast;
Hard passage forcing on, with head
Against the storm, and canvass spread.
I hate a boaster-but to thee
Will say 't, who know'st both land and sea,
The unluckiest Hulk that sails the brine
Is hardly worse beset than mine,
When cross winds on her quarter beat;
And, fairly lifted from my feet,
I stayger onward-Heaven kuows how-
But not so pleasantly as now
Poor Pilot I, by spows confounded,
And many a foundrous pit surrounded !
Yet here we are, by night and day
Grinding through rough and smooth our way,
Through foul and fair our task fulfilling;
And long shall be so yet-God willing!»

« Ay,» said the Tar, « through fair and foul But save us from yon screeching Owl!» That instant was begun a fray Which called their thoughts another way; The Mastiff, ill-conditioned carl! What must he do but growl and snarl, Still more and more dissatisfied With the meek comrade at his side? Till, not incensed, though put to proof, The Ass, uplifting a hind hoof, Salutes the Masuff on the head;

And so were better manners bred,
And all was calmed and quieted.

« Yon Screech-owl,» says the Sailor, turning
Back to his former cause of mourning,
«Yon Owl!-pray God that all be well!
"T is worse than any funeral bell;
As sure as I've the gift of sight,
We shall be meeting Ghosts to-night!»
-Said Benjamin, « This whip shall lay
A thousand, if they cross our way.
I know that Wanton's noisy station,
I know him and his occupation;
The jolly Bird hath learned his cheer
On the banks of Windermere ;
Where a tribe of ihem make merry,
Mocking the Man that keeps the Ferry;
Hallooing from an open throat,
Like Travellers shouting for a Boal.
-The tricks he learned at Windermere
This vagrant Owl is playing here-
That is the worst of his employmeat;
He's in the height of his enjoyment!»

This explanation stilled the alarm, Cured the foreboder like a charm; This, and the manner, and the voice, Summoned the Sailor to rejoice; His heart is up-he fears no evil From life or death, from man or devil; He wheeled—and, making many stops, Brandished his crutch against the mountain tops; And, while he talked of blows and scars, Benjamin, among the stars, Bebeld a dancing—and a glancing; Such retreating and advancing As, I ween, was neyer seen In bloodiest battle since the days of Mars!

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Taus they, with freaks of proud delight,
Beguile the remnant of the night;
And many a spatch of jovial song
Regales them as they wind along;
While, to the music from on high,
The echoes make a glad reply.-
But the sage Muse the revel beeds
No farther than her story needs;
Nor will she servilely attend
The loitering journey to its end.
- Blithe Spirits of her own impel
The Muse, who scents the morning air,
To take of this transported Pair
A brief and unreproved farewell;
To quit the slow-paced Waggon's side,
And wander down yon hawthorn dell,
With murmuring Greta for her guide.
- There doth she ken the awful form
Of Raven-crag- black as a storm-
Glimmering through the twilighit pale;
And Gimmer-crag,' his tall twin-brother,
Each peering forth to meet the other :-
And, while she roves through St John's Vale,

The crag of the ewe-lamb.

Along the smooth unpathway'd plain, By sheep track, or through cottage lane, Where no disturbance comes to intrude Upon the pensive solitude, Her unsuspecting eye, perchance, With the rude Shepherd's favour'd glance, Beholds the Faeries in array, Whose party-coloured garments gay The silent company betray; Red, green, and blue; a moment's sight! For Skiddaw-top with rosy light Is touchd--and all the band take figlit. -Fly also, Muse! and from the dell Mount to the ridge of Nathdale Fell; Theoce look thou forth o'er wood and lawn, Hoar with the frost-like dews of dawn; Across yon meadowy bottom look, Where close fogs hide their parent brook; And see, beyond that hamlet small, The ruin'd towers of Threlkeld-hall, Lurking in a double shade, By trees and lingering twilight made! There, at Blencathara's rugged feel, Sir Lancelot gave a safe retreat To noble Clifford; from annoy Cooccald the persecuted Boy, Well pleased in rustic garb to feed His flock, and pipe on Shepherd's reed; Among this multitude of bills, Crags, woodlands, waterfalls, and rills ; Which soon the morning shall enfold, From east to west, in ample vest Of massy gloom and radiance bold.

Or, by length of fasting roused,
Are impatient to be housed;
Up against the hill they strain-
Tugging at the iron chain-
Tugging all with might and main-
Last and foremost, every

To the utmost of his force!
And the smoke and respiration
Rising like an exhalation,
Blends with the mist,-a moving shroud
To form- an undissolving cloud;
Which, with slant ray, the merry sun
Takes delight to play upon.
Never surely old Apollo
He, or other God as old,
Of whom in story we are told,
Who had a favourite to follow
Through a battle or elsewhere,
Round the object of liis care,
In a time of peril, threw
Veil of such celestial liue;
Interposed so bright a screen
Him and his enemies between!

Alas, what boots it?—who can hide
When the malicious Fates are bent
On working out an ill intent?
Can destiay be turn'd aside ?
No-sad progress of my story!
Benjamin, this outward glory
Cannot shield thee from thy Master,
Who from Keswick has prick'd forth,
Sour and surly as the north;
And, in fear of some disaster,
Comes to give what lielp he may,
Or to hear what thou canst say;
If, as needs he must forebode,
Thou hast loiter'd on the road!
His doubts-his fears may now take flight-
The wished-for object is io sight;
Yet, trust the Muse, it rather hath
Stirrd him up to livelier wrath;
Which he sufles, moody mau!
With all the patience that be can;
To the end that at your meeting
lle may vive thee decent greeting.

There he is-resolved to stop,
Till the wayson gains the top;
But stop he cannot-must advance:
Him Benjamin, with lucky glance,
Espies, and iostanily is ready,
Self-collected, poised, and steady;
And, to be the better seen,
Issues from his radiant shroud,
From bis close attending cloud,
With careless air and open mien.
Erect his port, and firm his going;
So struts yon cock that now is crowing;
And the morning light in grace
Strikes upon his lifted face,
Hurrying the pallid hue away
That might his trespasses betray.
But what can all avail to clear him,
Or what need of explanation,
Parley, or interrogation ?

The mists, that o'er the Strcainlet's bed
Hung low, begin to rise and spreail;
Even while I speak, their skirts of grey
Are smitten by a silver ray;
And lo!-up Castrige's naked sleep
(Where, smoothly urged, the vapours sweep
Along-and scatter and divide
Like theccy clouds self-multiplied)
The stately Wagcon is ascending
With faithful Lenjanin attending,
Apparent now beside bis team-
Now lost amid a glittering steam.
And with him goes his Sailor Friend,
By this time near their journey's end,
Aud, after their high-minded riol,
Sickening into thoughtful quiet;
As if the morning's picasant hour
Had for their joys a killing power.

They are drooping, weak, and dull; But the borses stretch and pull; With increasing vigour climb, Eager to repair lost time; Whether by their own desert, knowing there is cause for shame, They are labouring 10 avert At least a portion of the blame, Which full surely will alight Upon his head, whom, in despite Of all his faults they love the best; Whether for bim they are distress'd;

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