rt,--a
charge which the piece beginning, "Lyre! though such power do in thy
magic live," will scarcely tend to obviate. The natural imagery of these
verses was supplied by frequent, I might say intense, observation of the
Rydal torrent. What an animating contrast is the ever-changing aspect of
that, and indeed of every one of our mountain brooks, to the monotonous
tone and unmitigated fury of such streams among the Alps as are fed all
the summer long by glaciers and melting snows. A traveller observing the
exquisite purity of the great rivers, such as the Rhone at Geneva, and
the Reuss at Lucerne, when they issue out of their respective lakes,
might fancy for a moment that some power in nature produced this
beautiful change, with a view to make amends for those Alpine sullyings
which the waters exhibit near their fountain heads; but, alas! how soon
does that purity depart before the influx of tributary waters that have
flowed through cultivated plains and the crowded abodes of men.--I. F.]

Included by Wordsworth among his "Poems founded on the Affections."--Ed.

The peace which others seek they find;
The heaviest storms not longest last;
Heaven grants even to the guiltiest mind
An amnesty for what is past;
When will my sentence be reversed? 5
I only pray to know the worst;
And wish as if my heart would burst.

O weary struggle! silent years
Tell seemingly no doubtful tale;
And yet they leave it short, and fears 10
And hopes are strong and will prevail.
My calmest faith escapes not pain;
And, feeling that the hope is vain,
I think that he will come again.

* * * * *

REPENTANCE

A PASTORAL BALLAD

Composed 1804.--Published 1820

[Written at Town-end, Grasmere. Suggested by the conversation of our
next neighbour, Margaret Ashburner.--I. F.]

This "next neighbour" is constantly referred to in Dorothy Wordsworth's
Grasmere Journal.

Included in 1820 among the "Poems of Sentiment and Reflection"; in 1827,
and afterwards, it was classed with those "founded on the
Affections."--Ed.

The fields which with covetous spirit we sold,
Those beautiful fields, the delight of the day,
Would have brought us more good than a burthen of gold, [1]
Could we but have been as contented as they.

When the troublesome Tempter beset us, said I, 5
"Let him