Mild o'er her grave, ye mountains, shine!
Gently by his, ye waters, glide!
To that in you which is divine
They were allied.
HAWORTH CHURCHYARD.
APRIL, 1855.
Where, under Loughrigg, the stream
Of Rotha sparkles through fields
Vested forever with green,
Four years since, in the house
Of a gentle spirit now dead,
Wordsworth's son-in-law, friend,—
I saw the meeting of two
Gifted women.23 The one,
Brilliant with recent renown,
Young, unpractised, had told
With a master's accent her feigned
Story of passionate life;
The other, maturer in fame,
Earning, she too, her praise
First in fiction, had since
Widened her sweep, and surveyed
History, politics, mind.
The two held converse; they wrote
In a book which of world-famous souls
Kept the memorial: bard,
Warrior, statesman, had signed
Their names: chief glory of all,
