Beachy Head
Charlotte Smith
1   On thy stupendous summit, rock sublime!
2   That o'er the channel rear'd, half way at sea
3   The mariner at early morning hails,
4   I would recline; while Fancy should go forth,
5   And represent the strange and awful hour
6   Of vast concussion; when the Omnipotent
7   Stretch'd forth his arm, and rent the solid hills,
8   Bidding the impetuous main flood rush between
9   The rifted shores, and from the continent
10   Eternally divided this green isle.
11   Imperial lord of the high southern coast!
12   From thy projecting head-land I would mark
13   Far in the east the shades of night disperse,
14   Melting and thinned, as from the dark blue wave
15   Emerging, brilliant rays of arrowy light
16   Dart from the horizon; when the glorious sun
17   Just lifts above it his resplendent orb.
18   Advances now, with feathery silver touched,
19   The rippling tide of flood; glisten the sands,
20   While, inmates of the chalky clefts that scar
21   Thy sides precipitous, with shrill harsh cry,
22   Their white wings glancing in the level beam,
23   The terns, and gulls, and tarrocks, seek their food,
24   And thy rough hollows echo to the voice
25   Of the gray choughs, and ever restless daws,
26   With clamour, not unlike the chiding hounds,
27   While the lone shepherd, and his baying dog,
28   Drive to thy turfy crest his bleating flock.
29   The high meridian of the day is past,
30   And Ocean now, reflecting the calm Heaven,
31   Is of cerulean hue; and murmurs low
32   The tide of ebb, upon the level sands.
33   The sloop, her angular canvas shifting still,
34   Catches the light and variable airs
35   That but a little crisp the summer sea,
36   Dimpling its tranquil surface.

36                                             Afar off,
37   And just emerging from the arch immense
38   Where seem to part the elements, a fleet
39   Of fishing vessels stretch their lesser sails;
40   While more remote, and like a dubious spot
41   Just hanging in the horizon, laden deep,
42   The ship of commerce richly freighted, makes
43   Her slower progress, on her distant voyage,
44   Bound to the orient climates, where the sun
45   Matures the spice within its odorous shell,
46   And, rivalling the gray worm's filmy toil,
47   Bursts from its pod the vegetable down;
48   Which in long turban'd wreaths, from torrid heat
49   Defends the brows of Asia's countless casts.
50   There the Earth hides within her glowing breast
51   The beamy adamant, and the round pearl
52   Enchased in rugged covering; which the slave,
53   With perilous and breathless toil, tears off
54   From the rough sea-rock, deep beneath the waves.
55   These are the toys of Nature; and her sport
56   Of little estimate in Reason's eye:
57   And they who reason, with abhorrence see
58   Man, for such gaudes and baubles, violate
59   The sacred freedom of his fellow man
60   Erroneous estimate! As Heaven's pure air,
61   Fresh as it blows on this aërial height,
62   Or sound of seas upon the stony strand,
63   Or inland, the gay harmony of birds,
64   And winds that wander in the leafy woods;
65   Are to the unadulterate taste more worth
66   Than the elaborate harmony, brought out
67   From fretted stop, or modulated airs
68   Of vocal science.—So the brightest gems,
69   Glancing resplendent on the regal crown,
70   Or trembling in the high born beauty's ear,
71   Are poor and paltry, to the lovely light
72   Of the fair star, that as the day declines,
73   Attendant on her queen, the crescent moon,
74   Bathes her bright tresses in the eastern wave.
75   For now the sun is verging to the sea,
76   And as he westward sinks, the floating clouds
77   Suspended, move upon the evening gale,
78   And gathering round his orb, as if to shade
79   The insufferable brightness, they resign
80   Their gauzy whiteness; and more warm'd, assume
81   All hues of purple. There, transparent gold
82   Mingles with ruby tints, and sapphire gleams,
83   And colours, such as Nature through her works
84   Shews only in the ethereal canopy.
85   Thither aspiring Fancy fondly soars,
86   Wandering sublime thro' visionary vales,
87   Where bright pavilions rise, and trophies, fann'd
88   By airs celestial; and adorn'd with wreaths
89   Of flowers that bloom amid elysian bowers.
90   Now bright, and brighter still the colours glow,
91   Till half the lustrous orb within the flood
92   Seems to retire: the flood reflecting still
93   Its splendor, and in mimic glory drest;
94   Till the last ray shot upward, fires the clouds
95   With blazing crimson; then in paler light,
96   Long lines of tenderer radiance, lingering yield
97   To partial darkness; and on the opposing side
98   The early moon distinctly rising, throws
99   Her pearly brilliance on the trembling tide.
100   The fishermen, who at set seasons pass
101   Many a league off at sea their toiling night,
102   Now hail their comrades, from their daily task
103   Returning; and make ready for their own,
104   With the night tide commencing:—The night tide
105   Bears a dark vessel on, whose hull and sails
106   Mark her a coaster from the north. Her keel
107   Now ploughs the sand; and sidelong now she leans,
108   While with loud clamours her athletic crew
109   Unload her; and resounds the busy hum
110   Along the wave-worn rocks. Yet more remote,
111   Where the rough cliff hangs beetling o'er its base,
112   All breathes repose; the water's rippling sound
113   Scarce heard; but now and then the sea-snipe's cry
114   Just tells that something living is abroad;
115   And sometimes crossing on the moonbright line,
116   Glimmers the skiff, faintly discern'd awhile,
117   Then lost in shadow.
117                                             Contemplation here,
118   High on her throne of rock, aloof may sit,
119   And bid recording Memory unfold
120   Her scroll voluminous—bid her retrace
121   The period, when from Neustria's hostile shore
122   The Norman launch'd his galleys, and the bay
123   O'er which that mass of ruin frowns even now
124   In vain and sullen menace, then received
125   The new invaders; a proud martial race,
126   Of Scandinavia the undaunted sons,
127   Whom Dogon, Fier-a-bras, and Humfroi led
128   To conquest: while Trinacria to their power
129   Yielded her wheaten garland; and when thou,
130   Parthenope! within thy fertile bay
131   Receiv'd the victors—

131                                             In the mailed ranks
132   Of Normans landing on the British coast
133   Rode Taillefer; and with astounding voice
134   Thunder'd the war song daring Roland sang
135   First in the fierce contention: vainly brave,
136   One not inglorious struggle England made—
137   But failing, saw the Saxon heptarchy
138   Finish for ever.—Then the holy pile,
139   Yet seen upon the field of conquest, rose,
140   Where to appease heaven's wrath for so much blood,
141   The conqueror bade unceasing prayers ascend,
142   And requiems for the slayers and the slain.
143   But let not modern Gallia form from hence
144   Presumptuous hopes, that ever thou again,
145   Queen of the isles! shalt crouch to foreign arms.
146   The enervate sons of Italy may yield;
147   And the Iberian, all his trophies torn
148   And wrapp'd in Superstition's monkish weed,
149   May shelter his abasement, and put on
150   Degrading fetters. Never, never thou!
151   Imperial mistress of the obedient sea;
152   But thou, in thy integrity secure,
153   Shalt now undaunted meet a world in arms.
154   England! 'twas where this promontory rears
155   Its rugged brow above the channel wave,
156   Parting the hostile nations, that thy fame,
157   Thy naval fame was tarnish'd, at what time
158   Thou, leagued with the Batavian, gavest to France
159   One day of triumph—triumph the more loud,
160   Because even then so rare. Oh! well redeem'd,
161   Since, by a series of illustrious men,
162   Such as no other country ever rear'd,
163   To vindicate her cause. It is a list
164   Which, as Fame echoes it, blanches the cheek
165   Of bold Ambition; while the despot feels
166   The extorted sceptre tremble in his grasp.

167   From even the proudest roll by glory fill'd,
168   How gladly the reflecting mind returns
169   To simple scenes of peace and industry,
170   Where, bosom'd in some valley of the hills
171   Stands the lone farm; its gate with tawny ricks
172   Surrounded, and with granaries and sheds,
173   Roof'd with green mosses, and by elms and ash
174   Partially shaded; and not far remov'd
175   The hut of sea-flints built; the humble home
176   Of one, who sometimes watches on the heights,
177   When hid in the cold mist of passing clouds,
178   The flock, with dripping fleeces, are dispers'd
179   O'er the wide down; then from some ridged point
180   That overlooks the sea, his eager eye
181   Watches the bark that for his signal waits
182   To land its merchandize:—Quitting for this
183   Clandestine traffic his more honest toil,
184   The crook abandoning, he braves himself
185   The heaviest snow-storm of December's night,
186   When with conflicting winds the ocean raves,
187   And on the tossing boat, unfearing mounts
188   To meet the partners of the perilous trade,
189   And share their hazard. Well it were for him,
190   If no such commerce of destruction known,
191   He were content with what the earth affords
192   To human labour; even where she seems
193   Reluctant most. More happy is the hind,
194   Who, with his own hands rears on some black moor,
195   Or turbary, his independent hut
196   Cover'd with heather, whence the slow white smoke
197   Of smouldering peat arises—A few sheep,
198   His best possession, with his children share
199   The rugged shed when wintry tempests blow;
200   But, when with Spring's return the green blades rise
201   Amid the russet heath, the household live
202   Joint tenants of the waste throughout the day,
203   And often, from her nest, among the swamps,
204   Where the gemm'd sun-dew grows, or fring'd buck-bean,
205   They scare the plover, that with plaintive cries
206   Flutters, as sorely wounded, down the wind.
207   Rude, and but just remov'd from savage life
208   Is the rough dweller among scenes like these,
209   (Scenes all unlike the poet's fabling dreams
210   Describing Aready)—But he is free;
211   The dread that follows on illegal acts
212   He never feels; and his industrious mate
213   Shares in his labour. Where the brook is traced
214   By crouding osiers, and the black coot hides
215   Among the plashy reeds, her diving brood,
216   The matron wades; gathering the long green rush
217   That well prepar'd hereafter lends its light
218   To her poor cottage, dark and cheerless else
219   Thro' the drear hours of Winter. Otherwhile
220   She leads her infant group where charlock grows
221   "Unprofitably gay," or to the fields,
222   Where congregate the linnet and the finch,
223   That on the thistles, so profusely spread,
224   Feast in the desert; the poor family
225   Early resort, extirpating with care
226   These, and the gaudier mischief of the ground;
227   Then flames the high rais'd heap; seen afar off
228   Like hostile war-fires flashing to the sky.
229   Another task is theirs: On fields that shew
230   As angry Heaven had rain'd sterility,
231   Stony and cold, and hostile to the plough,
232   Where clamouring loud, the evening curlew runs
233   And drops her spotted eggs among the flints;
234   The mother and the children pile the stones
235   In rugged pyramids;—and all this toil
236   They patiently encounter; well content
237   On their flock bed to slumber undisturb'd
238   Beneath the smoky roof they call their own.
239   Oh! little knows the sturdy hind, who stands
240   Gazing, with looks where envy and contempt
241   Are often strangely mingled, on the car
242   Where prosperous Fortune sits; what secret care
243   Or sick satiety is often hid,
244   Beneath the splendid outside: He knows not
245   How frequently the child of Luxury
246   Enjoying nothing, flies from place to place
247   In chase of pleasure that eludes his grasp;
248   And that content is e'en less found by him,
249   Than by the labourer, whose pick-axe smooths
250   The road before his chariot; and who doffs
251   What was an hat; and as the train pass on,
252   Thinks how one day's expenditure, like this,
253   Would cheer him for long months, when to his toil
254   The frozen earth closes her marble breast.

255   Ah! who is happy? Happiness! a word
256   That like false fire, from marsh effluvia born,
257   Misleads the wanderer, destin'd to contend
258   In the world's wilderness, with want or woe—
259   Yet they are happy, who have never ask'd
260   What good or evil means. The boy
261   That on the river's margin gaily plays,
262   Has heard that Death is there—He knows not Death,
263   And therefore fears it not; and venturing in
264   He gains a bullrush, or a minnow—then,
265   At certain peril, for a worthless prize,
266   A crow's, or raven's nest, he climbs the boll
267   Of some tall pine; and of his prowess proud,
268   Is for a moment happy. Are your cares,
269   Ye who despise him, never worse applied?
270   The village girl is happy, who sets forth
271   To distant fair, gay in her Sunday suit,
272   With cherry colour'd knots, and flourish'd shawl,
273   And bonnet newly purchas'd. So is he
274   Her little brother, who his mimic drum
275   Beats, till he drowns her rural lovers' oaths
276   Of constant faith, and still increasing love;
277   Ah! yet a while, and half those oaths believ'd,
278   Her happiness is vanish'd; and the boy
279   While yet a stripling, finds the sound he lov'd
280   Has led him on, till he has given up
281   His freedom, and his happiness together.
282   I once was happy, when while yet a child,
283   I learn'd to love these upland solitudes,
284   And, when elastic as the mountain air,
285   To my light spirit, care was yet unknown
286   And evil unforeseen:—Early it came,
287   And childhood scarcely passed, I was condemned,
288   A guiltless exile, silently to sigh,
289   While Memory, with faithful pencil, drew
290   The contrast; and regretting, I compar'd
291   With the polluted smoky atmosphere
292   And dark and stifling streets, the southern hills
293   That to the setting Sun, their graceful heads
294   Rearing, o'erlook the frith, where Vecta breaks
295   With her white rocks, the strong impetuous tide,
296   When western winds the vast Atlantic urge
297   To thunder on the coast—Haunts of my youth!
298   Scenes of fond day-dreams, I behold ye yet!
299   Where 'twas so pleasant by thy northern slopes
300   To climb the winding sheep-path, aided oft
301   By scatter'd thorns: whose spiny branches bore
302   Small woolly tufts, spoils of the vagrant lamb
303   There seeking shelter from the noon-day sun;
304   And pleasant, seated on the short soft turf,
305   To look beneath upon the hollow way
306   While heavily upward mov'd the labouring wain,
307   And stalking slowly by, the sturdy hind
308   To ease his panting team, stopp'd with a stone
309   The grating wheel.

309                                             Advancing higher still
310   The prospect widens, and the village church
311   But little, o'er the lowly roofs around
312   Rears its gray belfry, and its simple vane;
313   Those lowly roofs of thatch are half conceal'd
314   By the rude arms of trees, lovely in spring,
315   When on each bough, the rosy-tinctur'd bloom
316   Sits thick, and promises autumnal plenty.
317   For even those orchards round the Norman farms,
318   Which, as their owners mark the promis'd fruit,
319   Console them for the vineyards of the south,
320   Surpass not these.

320                                             Where woods of ash, and beech,
321   And partial copses, fringe the green hill foot,
322   The upland shepherd rears his modest home,
323   There wanders by, a little nameless stream
324   That from the hill wells forth, bright now and clear,
325   Or after rain with chalky mixture gray,
326   But still refreshing in its shallow course,
327   The cottage garden; most for use design'd,
328   Yet not of beauty destitute. The vine
329   Mantles the little casement; yet the briar
330   Drops fragrant dew among the July flowers;
331   And pansies rayed, and freak'd and mottled pinks
332   Grow among balm, and rosemary and rue:
333   There honeysuckles flaunt, and roses blow
334   Almost uncultured: Some with dark green leaves
335   Contrast their flowers of pure unsullied white;
336   Others, like velvet robes of regal state
337   Of richest crimson, while in thorny moss
338   Enshrined and cradled, the most lovely, wear
339   The hues of youthful beauty's glowing cheek.—
340   With fond regret I recollect e'en now
341   In Spring and Summer, what delight I felt
342   Among these cottage gardens, and how much
343   Such artless nosegays, knotted with a rush
344   By village housewife or her ruddy maid,
345   Were welcome to me; soon and simply pleas'd.

346   An early worshipper at Nature's shrine,
347   I loved her rudest scenes—warrens, and heaths,
348   And yellow commons, and birch-shaded hollows,
349   And hedge rows, bordering unfrequented lanes
350   Bowered with wild roses, and the clasping woodbine
351   Where purple tassels of the tangling vetch
352   With bittersweet, and bryony inweave,
353   And the dew fills the silver bindweed's cups—
354   I loved to trace the brooks whose humid banks
355   Nourish the harebell, and the freckled pagil;
356   And stroll among o'ershadowing woods of beech,
357   Lending in Summer, from the heats of noon
358   A whispering shade; while haply there reclines
359   Some pensive lover of uncultur'd flowers,
360   Who, from the tumps with bright green mosses clad,
361   Plucks the wood sorrel, with its light thin leaves,
362   Heart-shaped, and triply folded; and its root
363   Creeping like beaded coral; or who there
364   Gathers, the copse's pride, anémones,
365   With rays like golden studs on ivory laid
366   Most delicate: but touch'd with purple clouds,
367   Fit crown for April's fair but changeful brow.

368   Ah! hills so early loved! in fancy still
369   I breathe your pure keen air; and still behold
370   Those widely spreading views, mocking alike
371   The Poet and the Painter's utmost art.
372   And still, observing objects more minute,
373   Wondering remark the strange and foreign forms
374   Of sea-shells; with the pale calcareous soil
375   Mingled, and seeming of resembling substance.
376   Tho' surely the blue Ocean (from the heights
377   Where the downs westward trend, but dimly seen)
378   Here never roll'd its surge. Does Nature then
379   Mimic, in wanton mood, fantastic shapes
380   Of bivalves, and inwreathed volutes, that cling
381   To the dark sea-rock of the wat'ry world?
382   Or did this range of chalky mountains, once
383   Form a vast bason, where the Ocean waves
384   Swell'd fathomless? What time these fossil shells,
385   Buoy'd on their native element, were thrown
386   Among the imbedding calx: when the huge hill
387   Its giant bulk heaved, and in strange ferment
388   Grew up a guardian barrier, 'twixt the sea
389   And the green level of the sylvan weald.

390   Ah! very vain is Science' proudest boast,
391   And but a little light its flame yet lends
392   To its most ardent votaries; since from whence
393   These fossil forms are seen, is but conjecture,
394   Food for vague theories, or vain dispute,
395   While to his daily task the peasant goes,
396   Unheeding such inquiry; with no care
397   But that the kindly change of sun and shower,
398   Fit for his toil the earth he cultivates.
399   As little recks the herdsman of the hill,
400   Who on some turfy knoll, idly reclined,
401   Watches his wether flock; that deep beneath
402   Rest the remains of men, of whom is left
403   No traces in the records of mankind,
404   Save what these half obliterated mounds
405   And half fill'd trenches doubtfully impart
406   To some lone antiquary; who on times remote,
407   Since which two thousand years have roll'd away,
408   Loves to contemplate. He perhaps may trace,
409   Or fancy he can trace, the oblong square
410   Where the mail'd legions, under Claudius, rear'd
411   The rampire, or excavated fossé delved;
412   What time the huge unwieldy Elephant
413   Auxiliary reluctant, hither led,
414   From Afric's forest glooms and tawny sands,
415   First felt the Northern blast, and his vast frame
416   Sunk useless; whence in after ages found,
417   The wondering hinds, on those enormous bones
418   Gaz'd; and in giants dwelling on the hills
419   Believed and marvell'd—
419                                             Hither, Ambition, come!
420   Come and behold the nothingness of all
421   For which you carry thro' the oppressed Earth,
422   War, and its train of horrors—see where tread
423   The innumerous hoofs of flocks above the works
424   By which the warrior sought to register
425   His glory, and immortalize his name—
426   The pirate Dane, who from his circular camp
427   Bore in destructive robbery, fire and sword
428   Down thro' the vale, sleeps unremember'd here;
429   And here, beneath the green sward, rests alike
430   The savage native, who his acorn meal
431   Shar'd with the herds, that ranged the pathless woods;
432   And the centurion, who on these wide hills
433   Encamping, planted the Imperial Eagle.
434   All, with the lapse of Time, have passed away,
435   Even as the clouds, with dark and dragon shapes,
436   Or like vast promontories crown'd with towers,
437   Cast their broad shadows on the downs: then sail
438   Far to the northward, and their transient gloom
439   Is soon forgotten.

439                                             But from thoughts like these,
440   By human crimes suggested, let us turn
441   To where a more attractive study courts
442   The wanderer of the hills; while shepherd girls
443   Will from among the fescue bring him flowers,
444   Of wonderous mockery; some resembling bees
445   In velvet vest, intent on their sweet toil,
446   While others mimic flies, that lightly sport
447   In the green shade, or float along the pool,
448   But here seem perch'd upon the slender stalk,
449   And gathering honey dew. While in the breeze
450   That wafts the thistle's plumed seed along,
451   Blue bells wave tremulous. The mountain thyme
452   Purples the hassock of the heaving mole,
453   And the short turf is gay with tormentil,
454   And bird's foot trefoil, and the lesser tribes
455   Of hawkweed; spangling it with fringed stars.—
456   Near where a richer tract of cultur'd land
457   Slopes to the south; and burnished by the sun,
458   Bend in the gale of August, floods of corn;
459   The guardian of the flock, with watchful care,
460   Repels by voice and dog the encroaching sheep—
461   While his boy visits every wired trap
462   That scars the turf; and from the pit-falls takes
463   The timid migrants, who from distant wilds,
464   Warrens, and stone quarries, are destined thus
465   To lose their short existence. But unsought
466   By Luxury yet, the Shepherd still protects
467   The social bird, who from his native haunts
468   Of willowy current, or the rushy pool,
469   Follows the fleecy croud, and flirts and skims,
470   In fellowship among them.

470                                             Where the knoll
471   More elevated takes the changeful winds,
472   The windmill rears its vanes; and thitherward
473   With his white load, the master travelling,
474   Scares the rooks rising slow on whispering wings,
475   While o'er his head, before the summer sun
476   Lights up the blue expanse, heard more than seen,
477   The lark sings matins; and above the clouds
478   Floating, embathes his spotted breast in dew.
479   Beneath the shadow of a gnarled thorn,
480   Bent by the sea blast, from a seat of turf
481   With fairy nosegays strewn, how wide the view!
482   Till in the distant north it melts away,
483   And mingles indiscriminate with clouds:
484   But if the eye could reach so far, the mart
485   Of England's capital, its domes and spires
486   Might be perceived—Yet hence the distant range
487   Of Kentish hills, appear in purple haze;
488   And nearer, undulate the wooded heights,
489   And airy summits, that above the mole
490   Rise in green beauty; and the beacon'd ridge
491   Of Black-down shagg'd with heath, and swelling rude
492   Like a dark island from the vale; its brow
493   Catching the last rays of the evening sun
494   That gleam between the nearer park's old oaks,
495   Then lighten up the river, and make prominent
496   The portal, and the ruin'd battlements
497   Of that dismantled fortress; rais'd what time
498   The Conqueror's successors fiercely fought,
499   Tearing with civil feuds the desolate land.
500   But now a tiller of the soil dwells there,
501   And of the turret's loop'd and rafter'd halls
502   Has made an humbler homestead—Where he sees,
503   Instead of armed foemen, herds that graze
504   Along his yellow meadows; or his flocks
505   At evening from the upland driv'n to fold—

506   In such a castellated mansion once
507   A stranger chose his home; and where hard by
508   In rude disorder fallen, and hid with brushwood
509   Lay fragments gray of towers and buttresses,
510   Among the ruins, often he would muse—
511   His rustic meal soon ended, he was wont
512   To wander forth, listening the evening sounds
513   Of rushing milldam, or the distant team,
514   Or night-jar, chasing fern-flies: the tir'd hind
515   Pass'd him at nightfall, wondering he should sit
516   On the hill top so late: they from the coast
517   Who sought bye paths with their clandestine load,
518   Saw with suspicious doubt, the lonely man
519   Cross on their way: but village maidens thought
520   His senses injur'd; and with pity say
521   That he, poor youth! must have been cross'd in love—
522   For often, stretch'd upon the mountain turf
523   With folded arms, and eyes intently fix'd
524   Where ancient elms and firs obscured a grange,
525   Some little space within the vale below,
526   They heard him, as complaining of his fate,
527   And to the murmuring wind, of cold neglect
528   And baffled hope he told.—The peasant girls
529   These plaintive sounds remember, and even now
530   Among them may be heard the stranger's songs.


531   Were I a Shepherd on the hill
532      And ever as the mists withdrew
533   Could see the willows of the rill
534   Shading the footway to the mill
535      Where once I walk'd with you—

536   And as away Night's shadows sail,
537      And sounds of birds and brooks arise,
538   Believe, that from the woody vale
539   I hear your voice upon the gale
540      In soothing melodies;

541   And viewing from the Alpine height,
542      The prospect dress'd in hues of air,
543   Could say, while transient colours bright
544   Touch'd the fair scene with dewy light,
545      'Tis, that her eyes are there!

546   I think, I could endure my lot
547      And linger on a few short years,
548   And then, by all but you forgot,
549   Sleep, where the turf that clothes the spot
550      May claim some pitying tears.

551   For 'tis not easy to forget
552      One, who thro' life has lov'd you still,
553   And you, however late, might yet
554   With sighs to Memory giv'n, regret
555      The Shepherd of the Hill.

556   Yet otherwhile it seem'd as if young Hope
557   Her flattering pencil gave to Fancy's hand,
558   And in his wanderings, rear'd to sooth his soul
559   Ideal bowers of pleasure—Then, of Solitude
560   And of his hermit life, still more enamour'd,
561   His home was in the forest; and wild fruits
562   And bread sustain'd him. There in early spring
563   The Barkmen found him, e'er the sun arose;
564   There at their daily toil, the Wedgecutters
565   Beheld him thro' the distant thicket move.
566   The shaggy dog following the truffle hunter,
567   Bark'd at the loiterer; and perchance at night
568   Belated villagers from fair or wake,
569   While the fresh night-wind let the moonbeams in
570   Between the swaying boughs, just saw him pass,
571   And then in silence, gliding like a ghost
572   He vanish'd! Lost among the deepening gloom.—
573   But near one ancient tree, whose wreathed roots
574   Form'd a rude couch, love-songs and scatter'd rhymes,
575   Unfinish'd sentences, or half erased,
576   And rhapsodies like this, were sometimes found—

577   Let us to woodland wilds repair
578      While yet the glittering night-dews seem
579   To wait the freshly-breathing air,
580      Precursive of the morning beam,
581   That rising with advancing day,
582   Scatters the silver drops away.

583   An elm, uprooted by the storm,
584      The trunk with mosses gray and green,
585   Shall make for us a rustic form,
586      Where lighter grows the forest scene;
587   And far among the bowery shades,
588   Are ferny lawns and grassy glades.


589   Retiring May to lovely June
590      Her latest garland now resigns;
591   The banks with cuckoo-flowers are strewn,
592      The woodwalks blue with columbines,
593   And with its reeds, the wandering stream
594   Reflects the flag-flower's golden gleam.

595   There, feathering down the turf to meet,
596      Their shadowy arms the beeches spread,
597   While high above our sylvan seat,
598      Lifts the light ash its airy head;
599   And later leaved, the oaks between
600   Extend their bows of vernal green.

601   The slender birch its paper rind
602      Seems offering to divided love,
603   And shuddering even without a wind
604      Aspins, their paler foliage move,
605   As if some spirit of the air
606   Breath'd a low sigh in passing there.

607   The Squirrel in his frolic mood,
608      Will fearless bound among the boughs;
609   Yaffils laugh loudly thro' the wood,
610      And murmuring ring-doves tell their vows;
611   While we, as sweetest woodscents rise,
612   Listen to woodland melodies.

613   And I'll contrive a sylvan room
614      Against the time of summer heat,
615   Where leaves, inwoven in Nature's loom,
616      Shall canopy our green retreat;
617   And gales that "close the eye of day"
618   Shall linger, e'er they die away.

619   And when a sear and sallow hue
620      From early frost the bower receives,
621   I'll dress the sand rock cave for you,
622      And strew the floor with heath and leaves,
623   That you, against the autumnal air
624   May find securer shelter there.

625   The Nightingale will then have ceas'd
626      To sing her moonlight serenade;
627   But the gay bird with blushing breast,
628      And Woodlarks still will haunt the shade,
629   And by the borders of the spring
630   Reed-wrens will yet be carolling.

631   The forest hermit's lonely cave
632      None but such soothing sounds shall reach,
633   Or hardly heard, the distant wave
634      Slow breaking on the stony beach;
635   Or winds, that now sigh soft and low,
636   Now make wild music as they blow.

637   And then, before the chilling North
638      The tawny foliage falling light,
639   Seems, as it flits along the earth,
640      The footfall of the busy Sprite,
641   Who wrapt in pale autumnal gloom,
642   Calls up the mist-born Mushroom.

643   Oh! could I hear your soft voice there,
644      And see you in the forest green
645   All beauteous as you are, more fair
646      You'ld look, amid the sylvan scene,
647   And in a wood-girl's simple guise,
648   Be still more lovely in mine eyes.

649   Ye phantoms of unreal delight,
650      Visions of fond delirium born!
651   Rise not on my deluded sight,
652      Then leave me drooping and forlorn
653   To know, such bliss can never be,
654   Unless — loved like me.


655   The visionary, nursing dreams like these,
656   Is not indeed unhappy. Summer woods
657   Wave over him, and whisper as they wave,
658   Some future blessings he may yet enjoy.
659   And as above him sail the silver clouds,
660   He follows them in thought to distant climes,
661   Where, far from the cold policy of this,

662   Dividing him from her he fondly loves,
663   He, in some island of the southern sea,
664   May haply build his cane-constructed bower
665   Beneath the bread-fruit, or aspiring palm,
666   With long green foliage rippling in the gale.
667   Oh! let him cherish his ideal bliss—
668   For what is life, when Hope has ceas'd to strew
669   Her fragile flowers along its thorny way?
670   And sad and gloomy are his days, who lives
671   Of Hope abandon'd!

671                                             Just beneath the rock
672   Where Beachy overpeers the channel wave,
673   Within a cavern mined by wintry tides
674   Dwelt one, who long disgusted with the world
675   And all its ways, appear'd to suffer life

676   Rather than live; the soul-reviving gale,
677   Fanning the bean-field, or the thymy heath,
678   Had not for many summers breathed on him;
679   And nothing mark'd to him the season's change,
680   Save that more gently rose the placid sea,
681   And that the birds which winter on the coast
682   Gave place to other migrants; save that the fog,
683   Hovering no more above the beetling cliffs
684   Betray'd not then the little careless sheep
685   On the brink grazing, while their headlong fall
686   Near the lone Hermit's flint-surrounded home,
687   Claim'd unavailing pity; for his heart
688   Was feelingly alive to all that breath'd;
689   And outraged as he was, in sanguine youth,
690   By human crimes, he still acutely felt
691   For human misery.
691                                             Wandering on the beach,
692   He learn'd to augur from the clouds of heaven,
693   And from the changing colours of the sea,
694   And sullen murmurs of the hollow cliffs,
695   Or the dark porpoises, that near the shore
696   Gambol'd and sported on the level brine
697   When tempests were approaching: then at night
698   He listen'd to the wind; and as it drove
699   The billows with o'erwhelming vehemence
700   He, starting from his rugged couch, went forth
701   And hazarding a life, too valueless,
702   He waded thro' the waves, with plank or pole
703   Towards where the mariner in conflict dread
704   Was buffeting for life the roaring surge;
705   And now just seen, now lost in foaming gulphs,
706   The dismal gleaming of the clouded moon
707   Shew'd the dire peril. Often he had snatch'd
708   From the wild billows, some unhappy man
709   Who liv'd to bless the hermit of the rocks.
710   But if his generous cares were all in vain,
711   And with slow swell the tide of morning bore
712   Some blue swol'n cor'se to land; the pale recluse
713   Dug in the chalk a sepulchre—above
714   Where the dank sea-wrack mark'd the utmost tide,
715   And with his prayers perform'd the obsequies
716   For the poor helpless stranger.

716                                             One dark night
717   The equinoctial wind blew south by west,
718   Fierce on the shore;—the bellowing cliffs were shook
719   Even to their stony base, and fragments fell
720   Flashing and thundering on the angry flood.
721   At day-break, anxious for the lonely man,
722   His cave the mountain shepherds visited,
723   Tho' sand and banks of weeds had choak'd their way—
724   He was not in it; but his drowned cor'se
725   By the waves wafted, near his former home
726   Receiv'd the rites of burial. Those who read
727   Chisel'd within the rock, these mournful lines,
728   Memorials of his sufferings, did not grieve,
729   That dying in the cause of charity
730   His spirit, from its earthly bondage freed,
731   Had to some better region fled for ever.
Write the lyrics for a misc song made in 2014, titled "Beachy Head", by artist "Charlotte Smith".