36 WORDSWORTH'S PICTURE. 



(After a steady flight on home-bound wings, 

 And a last game of many hoverings 

 Around their ancient grove) with cawing noise, 

 Disturb the liquid music's equipoise. 

 Nightingale ! who ever heard thy song 

 Might here be moved, till Fancy grows so strong 

 That listening sense is pardonably cheated 

 Where wood or stream by thee was never greeted. 

 Surely from fairest spots of favoured lands 

 Were not some gifts withheld by jealous hands, 

 This hour of deepening darkness here would be, 

 As a fresh morning for new harmony ; 

 And lays as prompt would hail the dawn of night ; 

 A dawn she has both beautiful and bright, 

 When the East kindles with the full moon's light 

 Wanderer by spring with gradual progress led, 

 For sway profoundly felt as widely spread ; 

 To king, to peasant, to rough sailor, dear, 

 And to the soldier's trumpet-wearied ear ; 

 How welcome wouldst thou be to this green vale. 

 Fairer than Tempe ! Yet, sweet Nightingale ! 

 From the warm breeze that bears thee on alight 

 At will, and stay thy migratory flight ; 

 Build at thy choice, or sing, by pool or fount, 

 Who shall complain or call thee to account ? 

 The wisest, happiest of our kind are they 

 That ever walk content with Nature's way, 

 God's goodness measuring bounty as it may ; 

 For whom the gravest thought of what they miss, 

 Chastening the fullness of a present bliss, 

 Is with that wholesome office satisfied, 

 While unrepining sadness is allied 

 In thankful bosoms to a modest pride. 



