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    Tis passing sweet to wander , free as air , Blithe truants in the bright and breeze-bless'd day , Far from the town , where stoop the sons of care O ' er plans of mischief , till their souls turn grey ,

    And dry as dust , and dead-alive are they , Of all self-buried things the most unbless'd : Oh , Morn , to them no blissful tribute pay ! Oh , Night ' s long-courted slumbers ! bring no rest To men who laud man ' s foes , and deem the basest best

    God ! would they handcuff thee ? And , if they could , Chain the free air , that , like the daisy , goes To every field ; and bid the warbling wood Exchange no music with the willing rose For love-sweet odours , where the woodbine blows

    And trades with every cloud , and every beam Of the rich sky I Their gods are bonds and blows , Rocks , and blind shipwreck ; and they hate the stream That leaves them still behind , and mocks their changeless dream .

    They know ye not , ye flowers , that welcome me , Thus , glad to meet , by trouble parted long ! They never saw ye ; never may they see Your dewy beauty , when the throstle ' s song Floweth like starlight , gentle , calm , and strong "! Still , Avarice , starve their souls ! still , lowest Pride , Make them the meanest of the basest throng ! And may they never , on the green hill ' s side , Embrace a chosen flower , and love it as a bride !

    Blue Eyebright ! loveliest flower of all that grow In flower-lov'd England ! Flower , whose hedgeside gaze Is like an infant ' s ! what heart doth not know Thee , cluster ed smiler of the bank ! where plays The sunbeam with the emerald snake , and strays The dazzling rill , companion of the road

    Which the lone bard most lovetli , in the days When hope and love are young ? Oh , come abroad , Blue Eyebright ! and this rill shall woo thee with an ode . Awake , blue Eyebright ! while the singing wave Its cold , bright , beauteous , soothing tribute drops From many a grey rock ' s foot , and dripping cave ;

    While yonder , lo , the starting stone-chat hops ! While here the cotter ' s cow its sweet food crops ; While black-fac'd ewes and lambs are bleating there ; And bursting through the briers the wild ass stops—Kicks at the strangers—then turns round to stare—Then lowers his large red ears , and shakes his long dark hair .

    Untitled Article

    f 850 The Excursion .

• Citation
  • Monthly Repository (1806-1838) and Unitarian Chronicle (1832-1833), Dec. 2, 1833, page 850, in the Nineteenth-Century Serials Edition (2008; 2018) ncse.ac.uk/periodicals/mruc/issues/vm2-ncseproduct2628/page/46/