G UTH RUM TH E DAN E ; A TALE OF T H E fiH E P T A R C H Y . R OBE R T T OR Y S . L O N D O N LO NG MA N BR OWN G REEN LONG M A NS , , , , — P A T E R N O S TE R R O W . M I S S R EA N EY O F B R AD F O R D (I N T H E C O UNT Y O F Y O R K ) QIbis Elfi o zm I S P R O U D DY A N D G R AT EF U L L Y I NS CR I B ED B T Y H E A U TH OR . “7 7 54 60 S OUL o f the Last and Mightiest — O f all the Min strels b e thou blest ! Fo r that thou hast bequeathed to me A l o ri o us L G Y great and g E AC , Such as no other si ngl e mind ’ — Save S H A K sPE A R E s ev er left behind ! n o t o f o r - One , earth , earth born gold , o r In acres broad, sums untold, Which may by heirs be wasted may , By lawless force , be swept away Or meanly fi l ched by legal stealth But a b e quest o f m ental Wealth n o t Left to me alone , although ’ As much my own as if twere so to And yet, high thanks art divine ’ As much the world s , as it is mine ’ o r su n E en like the air, like the , en e Enj oyed by all , gross d by none ' D ifi used n e , unspe t ; ntire , though shared ; n n e And u diminished , u impair d ; Ordained to rouse emotions high , And charm— till England ’ s language die r I saw Oh , when at fi st the Tale o f Which tells the redoubted Gael , And o f the Bard whose harp would wake To soothe the Lady of the Lake, a I did not re d . That term were weak The process o f the hour to speak o f Page after page , thy words flame — — To me without a medium came The instant glanced at , glanced the whole o n si ht so u l Not my g , but on my And , thus daguerreotyped, each line Will there remain while life i s mine ' I deemed that lay the sweetest far That ever sung o f love and war ; i And vowed that, ere my dy ng day , I would attempt such lovely lay . But I was young, and had forgot ff S O T ! How di erent were from thine , O C T My genius , and my earthly lot . ’ m i n What though y ear , boyhood s time , Delighted, drank the flowing rhyme O P n o Though then , like P E , fool to fame , m m I lisped in nu bers , for they ca e , And waked , uncensured , unapproved , ? An echo of the strain I love d e And what though , in matur r days , a n d few e With none to j udge , to prais , Survived and ruled the impulse strong , And my heart lived and moved in son g — Still poor , unfriended, and untaught , A o f Cyclops in my Cave Thought , o f da Long sought I round, ere glimpse y n Consoled me with its enteri g ray . At length it came and then I tried T i n 0 wake my Harp lonely pride . w as m ee My Harp ade from stunted tr , ’ The growth o f Glendale s barest lea e Yet fresh as prouder stems it gr w , n And drank , with leaf as gree , the dew Bright showers, from Till or Bowmont shed, Its roots with needful moisture fed 13 2 ' Gr ay birds, Northumbrian skies that wing , Amid its branches loved to sin g And purple Cheviot ’ s breezy air - n e Kept up a life like quiveri g ther . m e From Harp , thence rudely fra d and strung , 7 Ah h o w should strain like thin e be flu ng ’ a If moved by Hope s mbitious dream , i t I struck to some lofty theme , A l l harshly j arred its tortured chords , ’ ’ As plaining such should be its lord s ; But all its sweetness wakened still To lay of North e rn stream o r hill ’ To C R A V EN S emerald dales transferred m That si ple Harp with praise was heard . n th e The ma liest sons, loveliest daughters , ’ That flourish by the Aire s y oung waters , ’ By gentle Ribble s verdant side , ’ A n d Wh arfe s e by the impetuous tid , Lan ded . u e its strains And for this ca s , While t hrobs my breast to kin d applause Nay, when , beneath the turf laid low, No ki n d applause my bre ast can kn ow ’ P o et s b l essi n a - A g , he rt bequeathed , ’ o f e O er the domains Craven br athed , Shall be to every hill an d plain o r Like vernal dew, summer rain , A n d o r stay with her , while bud bell e n o r u D cks lowla d mead , pland fell — — There min dfu l stil l o f th e e I strove To frame a lay o f war and love . I roused o l d heroes from the urn Bade buried m onks to day return w n And waked fair maids, hose dust had lai Ages in lead, to bloom again My grateful wish to pou r along o f Those emerald dales the charm song , ’ And do for M al h am s Lake and Cave ’ What thou hadst don e for Katri n e s wave . Not that the pride impelled m e n o w That h ad inspir e d my youthfu l v o w ; b u t l ike no tes I would some essay , Not rashly wake a ri val lay ! B u t y e ars o f gloom an d strife cam e on Dark omens girt the British Thron e ; f th e The Disaf ected and Bad , e m Who hop s from wild com otion had , e n Gav tow s to tumult and to flame , — ’ And tre a son wrought i h WI L LI A M S n am e was e That no time , in idl lays , To kin dle fe uds of other days ’ I m tuned y Harp to Order s cause , ’ And sung for Britain s Ki ng an d Laws ! For party A y b u t party then ’ Was l e d by E ngland s greatest men H i m hi s By , to save country born H i m e e n By , Whom all the p opl mour ; ’ ’ S T Y S n n e Twas graced by ANLE oble am , A n d vaunt e d that o f gal lant G R AEME . — r Men far too high , too pu e , too proud , To flatter either co u rt or crowd M en — e b o mov d y patri tic zeal , ’ ' And s eeking nought b u t England s weal D ull w ere the h e ad could style th e m an Wh o e them n . follow d , a partisa — Far from thy Tweed m y birth that claims I find myself o n regal T H AMES PE N E R The swans that S S loved to sing , Before m e prune the snowy wing ; In Surrey woods, by moonlight pale , ’ I list to T HOMSON S nightingale U se the same walks that poet used, O P And muse , where P E himself hath mused What wonder if the wish, that burned S o strong in youth , in age returned ; — ’ — And mid such scenes m y Harp again ? Took up the long - abandoned strain B ut ah when o f the high design Is traced at length the closing line , — I say n o t How unlike to thine The forward child of youthful pride , That bold Presum ption long hath died But— How unlike to that which first m ue u On y enrapt r d Fancy b rst , n e an d Whe , fr sh fair, my untried theme — Rose like a landscap e i n a dream That landscape hath familiar grown , i s i s n And half of t romance flow . e n n ew Thus r gio s , in distance seen , m e n Have sunny vales of s ooth st gree , m n And ountai s which , as they ascend , sk With the blue y so softly blend , — That givi ng nought o f ea rth to V iew They seem to b e ethereal too But , visited , the change is harsh e The vales that look d so smooth , are marsh Bru shwood an d h eath th e hills array ; And rock an d quagmire bar the way n wh o e Yet rou d that marsh , se k the vale , e May violet find , or primrose pal o n Yet those hills , who choose to climb M ay m ee t th e crow -flo wer or th e thyme ’ h as m While e en the rock for flowers roo , ’ And e en the quagmire boasts its bloom w ’ And , ell I hope , that Northman ne er Will lend a cold, fastidious ear , n e To hear a ative Bard r hearse , I n th e good old heroic verse , h o l d o f e an d n d How , h art strong of ha , H i s D I S F T R S w o n E R N AN H A HE NO R T H U M B L A D .