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BY persons resident in the country and attached to rural objects, many places will be found un-named or of unknown names, where little Incidents will have occurred, or Feelings been experienced, which will have given to such places a private and peculiar interest. From a wish to give some sort of Record to such Incidents or renew the gratification of such Feelings, names have been given to places by the Author and some of his friends, and the following Poenes written in consequence..





IT was an April Morning: fresh and clear
The Rivulet, delighting in its strength,
Ran with a young man's speed, and yet the voice
Of waters which the winter had supplied
Was soften'd down into a vernal tone.
The spirit of enjoyment and desire,
And hopes and wishes, from all living things
Went circling, like a multitude of sounds.

The budding groves appear'd as if in haste
To spur the steps of June; as if their shades
Of various green were hindrances that stood
Between them and their object: Yet, mean

There was such deep contentment in the air
That every naked ash, and tardy tree
Yet leafles, seem’d as though the countenance
With which it 'look'd on this delightful day
'Were native to the summer.-Up the brook
I roam'd in the confusion of my heart,
Alive to all things and forgetting all.
At length I to a sudden türning came
In this continuous glen, where down a rock
The stream, so ardent in its course before,
Sent forth such sallies of glad sound, that all
Which I till then had heard, appear'd the voice
Of common pleasure; beast and bird, the lamb,
The Shepherd's dog, the linnet and the thrush
Vied with this waterfall, and made a song
Which, while I listen'd, seem'd like the wild

growth Or like some natural produce of the air That could not cease to be. Green leaves

were here But 'twas the foliage of the rocks, the birch, The yew, the holly, and the bright green thorn, With hanging islands of resplendent furze: And on a summit, distant a short space,

By any who should look beyond the dell,
A single mountain Cottage might be seen,
I gaz'd and gaz’d, and to myself I said,
“ Our thoughts, at least are outs, and this wild

My EMMA, I will dedicate to thee."
-Soon did the spot become my other home,
My dwelling, and my out-of-doors abode.
And, of the Shepherds who have seen me there,
To whom I sometimes in our idle talk ', .
Have told this fancy, two or three, perhaps,
Years after we are gone and in our graves,
When they have cause to speak of this wild

ini in May call it by the name of Emma's DELL


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Amid the smoke ofi cities did you pass
Your time of early youth, and there you learn’d,
From years of quiet industry, to love
The living Beings by your own fire-side, i if:
With such a strong devotion, that your heart
Is slow towards the sympathịes of thein ;.
Who look upon the hills with tenderness,

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And make dear friendships with the streams

and groves.

Yet we who are transgressors in this kind,
Dwelling retired in our simplicity
Among the woods and fields, we love you well,
Joanna ! and I guess, since you have been
So distant from us now for two long years,
That you will gladly listen to discourse
However trivial, if you thence are taught
That they, with whom you once were happy,

Familiarly of you and of old times,

While I was seated, now some ten days past,
Beneath those lofty firs, that overtop
Their ancient neighbour, the old steeple tower,
The Vicar from his gloomy house hard by
Came forth to greet me, and when he had

ask'd, “ How fares Joanna, that wild-hearted Maid ! 6 And when will she return to us?” he paus’d, And after short exchange of village news, He with grave looks demanded, for what cause, Reviving obsolete Idolatry, I like a Runic Priest, in characters Of formidable size, had chisel'd out Some uncouth name upon the native rock, Above the Rotha, by the forest side. -Now, by those dear immunities of heart

Engender'd betwixt malice and true love,
I was not loth to be so catechiz'd,
And this was my reply.- As it befel,
One summer morning we had walk'd abroad
At break of day, Joanna and myself.
'Twas that delightful season, when the broom,
Full flower'd, and visible on every steep,
Along the copses runs in veins of gold.
Our pathway led us on to Rotha's banks,
And when we came in front of that tall rock
Which looks towards the East, I there stopp'd

And trac'd the lofty barrier with my eye
From base to summit; such delight I found
To note in shrub and tree, in stone and flower,
That interinixture of delicious hues
Along so vast a surface, all at once,
In one impression, by connecting force
Of their own beauty, imag!d in the heart.
When I had gaz’d perhaps two minutes' space,
Joanna, looking in my eyes, beheld
That ravishment of mine, and laugh'd aloud.
The rock, like something starting from a sleep,
Took up the Lady's voice, and laugh'd again:
That ancient Woman seated on Helm-crag
Was ready with her cavern: Hammar-Scar,
And the tall Steep of Silver-How sent forth
A noise of laughter; southern Loughrigg heard,
And Fairfield answer'd with a mountain tone;
Helvellyn far into the clear blue sky
Carried the Lady's voice.--Old Skiddaw blew


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