Out of our Valley's limits did he roam :
Full many a time, upon a stormy night,

His voice came to us from the neighbouring height :
Oft could we see him driving full in view
At mid-day when the sun was shining bright;
What ill was on him, what he had to do,
A mighty wonder bred among our quiet crew.

Ah! piteous sight it was to see this Man
When he came back to us, a withered flower,-
Or like a sinful creature, pale and wan.

Down would he sit; and without strength or power
Look at the common grass from hour to hour:
And oftentimes, how long I fear to say,
Where apple-trees in blossom made a bower,
Retired in that sunshiny shade he lay;
And, like a naked Indian, slept himself away.

Great wonder to our gentle tribe it was
Whenever from our Valley he withdrew;
For happier soul no living creature has
Than he had, being here the long day through.
Some thought he was a lover, and did woo:
Some thought far worse of him, and judged him wrong;
But verse was what he had been wedded to;

And his own mind did like a tempest strong

Come to him thus, and drove the weary Wight along.

With him there often walked in friendly guise,

Or lay upon the moss by brook or tree,
A noticeable Man with large grey eyes,
And a pale face that seemed undoubtedly
As if a blooming face it ought to be ;

Heavy his low-hung lip did oft appear,

Deprest by weight of musing Phantasy;

Profound his forehead was, though not severe ;

Yet some did think that he had little business here:

Sweet heaven forefend! his was a lawful right;
Noisy he was, and gamesome as a boy;

His limbs would toss about him with delight
Like branches when strong winds the trees annoy.
Nor lacked his calmer hours device or toy
To banish listlessness and irksome care;

He would have taught you how you might employ
Yourself; and many did to him repair,—
And certes not in vain; he had inventions rare.

Expedients, too, of simplest sort he tried:
Long blades of grass, plucked round him as he lay,
Made, to his ear attentively applied,

A pipe on which the wind would deftly play;
Glasses he had, that little things display,

The beetle panoplied in gems and gold,*
A mailed angel on a battle-day;

The mysteries that cups of flowers enfold,+

And all the gorgeous sights which fairies do behold.

He would entice that other Man to hear

His music, and to view his imagery:

And, sooth, these two were each to the other dear :
No livelier love in such a place could be:
There did they dwell-from earthly labour free,

* The beetle with his radiance manifold.-Edit. 1815.

And cups of flowers, and herbage green and gold.-Edit. 1815.

As happy spirits as were ever seen;
If but a bird, to keep them company,

Or butterfly sate down, they were, I ween,

As pleased as if the same had been a Maiden-queen.

1802.

ELLEN IRWIN :

OR, THE BRAES OF KIRTLE.

*

FAIR Ellen Irwin, when she sate
Upon the braes of Kirtle,

Was lovely as a Grecian maid
Adorned with wreaths of myrtle;
Young Adam Bruce beside her lay,
And there did they beguile the day
With love and gentle speeches,
Beneath the budding beeches.

From many knights and many squires
The Bruce had been selected;
And Gordon, fairest of them all,

By Ellen was rejected.

Sad tidings to that noble Youth!

For it may be proclaimed with truth,
If Bruce hath loved sincerely,

That Gordon loves as dearly.

But what are Gordon's form and face,
His shattered hopes and crosses,

* The Kirtle is a river in the southern part of Scotland, on the banks of which the events here related took place.

To them, 'mid Kirtle's pleasant braes,
Reclined on flowers and mosses ?*
Alas that ever he was born!

The Gordon, couched behind a thorn,
Sees them and their caressing;
Beholds them blest and blessing.

Proud Gordon, maddened by the thoughts
That through his brain are travelling,
Rushed forth, and at the heart of Bruce
He launched a deadly javelin!

Fair Ellen saw it as it came,

And, starting up to meet the same,

Did with her body cover

The Youth, her chosen lover.

And, falling into Bruce's arms,

Thus died the beauteous Ellen,
Thus, from the heart of her True-love,
The mortal spear repelling.

And Bruce, as soon as he had slain
The Gordon, sailed away to Spain;
And fought with rage incessant
Against the Moorish crescent.

But many days, and many months,
And many years ensuing,

This wretched Knight did vainly seek
The death that he was wooing.
So, coming his last help to crave,
Heart-broken, upon Ellen's grave †

* To them who sit by Kirtle's braes
Upon the verdant mosses.-Edit. 1815.

† And coming back across the wave,
Without a groan on Ellen's grave.-Edit. 1815.

His body he extended,

And there his sorrow ended.

Now ye, who willingly have heard
The tale I have been telling,
May in Kirkonnel churchyard view
The grave of lovely Ellen :

By Ellen's side the Bruce is laid;
And, for the stone upon his head,
May no rude hand deface it,
And its forlorn Hic jucet!

SHE DWELT AMONG THE UNTRODDEN WAYS.*

SHE dwelt among the untrodden ways

Beside the springs of Dove,

A Maid whom there were none to praise
And very few to love:

A violet by a mossy stone

Half hidden from the eye!

-Fair as a star, when only one

Is shining in the sky.

She lived unknown, and few could know

When Lucy ceased to be;

But she is in her grave, and, oh,

The difference to me! t

* Written at Goslar, 1799.

Thirty years ago, Mr. Wordsworth, speaking to the Editor of this volume of the distinction between an ear for verse and an ear for music, quoted this poem, and said that some one who wished to write music for it, could not make anything of the last line, on account of the word "difference." Nothing however could be more musical than Wordsworth's recitation of these delightful lines.