Yet then from all my griefs, O Lord,
Thy mercy set me free;

Whilst, in the confidence of prayer,
My soul took hold on Thee.

For though in dreadful whirls we hung
High on the broken wave,

I knew Thou wert not slow to hear,
Nor impotent to save.

-The storm was laid; the winds retired,
Obedient to Thy will;

The sea that roar'd at Thy command,
At Thy command was still.

*75

*

7. Addison

WRITTEN IN EARLY SPRING.

I HEARD a thousand blended notes
While in a grove I sat reclined,

In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts
Bring sad thoughts to the mind.

To her fair works did Nature link

The human soul that through me ran;
And much it grieved my heart to think
What Man has made of Man.

Through primrose tufts, in that sweet bower,
The periwinkle trail'd its wreaths;
And 'tis my faith that every flower
Enjoys the air it breathes.

28 impotent, unable

1 blended, mixed together
3 mood, humour

29 laid, stilled

2 reclined, resting

11 faith, belief

The birds around me hopp'd and play'd;
Their thoughts I cannot measure -

-

But the least motion which they made
It seem'd a thrill of pleasure.

The budding twigs spread out their fan
To catch the breezy air;

And I must think, do all I can,
That there was pleasure there.

If this belief from Heaven be sent,
If such be Nature's holy plan,
Have I not reason to lament

What Man has made of Man?

*76*

THE RAINBOW

W. Wordsworth

TRIUMPHAL arch, that fill'st the sky

When storms prepare to part,

I ask not proud Philosophy
To teach me what thou art.

Still seem, as to my childhood's sight,

A midway station given,

For happy spirits to alight,

Betwixt the earth and heaven.

Can all that optics teach, unfold

Thy form to please me so,
As when I dreamt of gems and gold
Hid in thy radiant bow?

When science from creation's face
Enchantment's veil withdraws,
What lovely visions yield their place
To cold material laws!

I arch in remembrance of victory

2 part, clear off

9 optics, laws of sight: unfold, explain

14 enchantment, the poetry of youth

16 laws of matter

And yet, fair bow, no fabling dreams,
But words of the Most High,

Have told why first thy robe of beams
Was woven in the sky.

When o'er the green undeluged earth
Heaven's covenant thou didst shine,
How came the world's gray fathers forth
To watch thy sacred sign!

And when its yellow lustre smiled
O'er mountains yet untrod,
Each mother held aloft her child
To bless the bow of God.

The earth to thee her incense yields,
The lark thy welcome sings,
When, glittering in the freshen'd fields,
The snowy mushroom springs.

How glorious is thy girdle, cast
O'er mountain, tower, and town,
Or mirror'd in the ocean vast
A thousand fathoms down!

As fresh in yon horizon dark,
As young thy beauties seem,
As when the eagle from the ark
First sported in thy beam.

For, faithful to its sacred page,
Heaven still rebuilds thy span ;
Nor lets the type grow pale with age

That first spoke peace to man.

T. Campbell

22 covenant, sign of peace 23 gray fathers, Noah and his family

25 lustre, light

29 incense, swee ness
33 girdle, arch, bow

32 the mushroom springs up after rain 35 mirror'd, reflected

* 77 *

TO THE CUCKOO.

HAIL, beauteous stranger of the grove!
Thou messenger of spring!
Now Heaven repairs thy rural seat,
And woods thy welcome sing.

What time the daisy decks the green,
Thy certain voice we hear;
Hast thou a star to guide thy path,
Or mark the rolling year?

Delightful visitant, with thee

I hail the time of flowers,

And hear the sound of music sweet
From birds among the bowers.

The schoolboy wandering through the wood
To pull the primrose gay,

Starts the new voice of spring to hear,

And imitates thy lay.

What time the pea puts on the bloom

Thou fliest thy vocal vale,

An annual guest in other lands,

Another spring to hail.

Sweet bird thy bower is ever green,

Thy sky is ever clear;

Thou hast no sorrow in thy song,
No winter in thy year!

O could I fly, I'd fly with thee!

We'd make, with joyful wing,
Our annual visit o'er the globe,
Companions of the spring.

3 the trees are in leaf

6 certain, sure to come
18 vocal vale, valley where you have sung

19 a guest who comes every year

J. Logan

16 lay, song

* 78*

TO THE CUCKOO

O BLITHE new-comer! I have heard,
I hear thee and rejoice :

O Cuckoo! shall I call thee bird,
Or but a wandering Voice?

While I am lying on the grass
Thy twofold shout I hear ;
From hill to hill it seems to pass,
At once far off and near.

Though babbling only to the vale
Of sunshine and of flowers,
Thou bringest unto me a tale
Of visionary hours.

Thrice welcome, darling of the Spring!

Even yet thou art to me

No bird, but an invisible thing

A voice, a mystery;

The same whom in my schoolboy days I listen'd to; that Cry

Which made me look a thousand ways In bush, and tree, and sky.

To seek thee did I often rove

Through woods and on the green;
And thou wert still a hope, a love;
Still long'd for, never seen!

And I can listen to thee yet;
Can lie upon the plain
And listen, till I do beget

That golden time again.

27, 28 till, until I fancy myself young again