THE WAGGONER. CANTO FIRST. 'Tis spent this burning day of June! Soft darkness o'er its latest gleams is stealing; The dor-hawk, solitary bird, Round the dim crags on heavy pinions wheeling, Buzzes incessantly, a tiresome tune; That constant voice is all that can be heard In silence deeper far than that of deepest noon! Confiding Glow-worms, 'tis a night The air, as in a lion's den, Is close and hot; - and now and then Comes a tired and sultry breeze With a haunting and a panting, The mountains rise to wonderous height, But the dews allay the heat, And the silence makes it sweet. Hush, there is some one on the stir! 'Tis Benjamin the Waggoner;- The Wain announces by whose side, Along the banks of Rydal Mere, Many a stop and stay he makes, Many a breathing-fit he takes ;— Yet all the while his whip is dumb! The Horses have worked with right good-will, And now have gained the top of the hill; He was patient- they were strong And now they smoothly glide along, Gathering breath, and pleased to win Heaven shield him from mishap and snare! Or for some other danger nigh? No, none is near him yet, though he Be one of much infirmity; For, at the bottom of the Brow, Where once the DOVE and OLIVE-BOUGH Offered a greeting of good ale To all who entered Grasmere Vale ; To leave it with a jovial heart; There, where the DOVE and OLIVE-BOUGH Once hung, a Poet harbours now, Why need our Hero then (though frail He marches by, secure and bold, Yet, while he thinks on times of old, shakes his head And, for the honest folk within, Whether they be alive or dead! Here is no danger, none at all! Beyond his wish is he secure; But pass a mile-and then for trial, Then for the pride of self-denial; If he resist that tempting door, Which with such friendly voice will call, If he resist those casement panes, And that bright gleam which thence will fall Upon his Leaders' bells and manes, Inviting him with cheerful lure; For still, though all be dark elsewhere, Some shining notice will be there, The place to Benjamin full well Is known, and by as strong a spell As used to be that sign of love And hope the OLIVE-BOUGH and Dove; He knows it to his cost, good Man! Who does not know the famous SWAN? Uncouth although the object be, An image of perplexity; Yet not the less it is our boast, Quaint stories of the Bird's attraction ! * Well! that is past—and in despite Of open door and shining light. * This rude piece of self-taught art (such is the progress of refinement) has been supplanted by a professional production. |