No More Learning

Soft darkness o'er its latest gleams is stealing;
The buzzing dor-hawk, round and round, is wheeling,--
That solitary bird
Is all that can be heard [1] 5
In silence deeper far than that of deepest noon!

Confiding Glow-worms, 'tis a night
Propitious to your earth-born light!
But, where the scattered stars are seen
In hazy straits the clouds between, 10
Each, in his station twinkling not,
Seems changed into a pallid spot. [2]
The mountains against heaven's grave weight
Rise up, and grow to wondrous height. [3]
The air, as in a lion's den, 15
Is close and hot;--and now and then
Comes a tired [4] and sultry breeze
With a haunting and a panting,
Like the stifling of disease;
But the dews [5] allay the heat, 20
And the silence makes it sweet.

Hush, there is some one on the stir!
'Tis Benjamin the Waggoner;
Who long hath trod this toilsome way,
Companion of the night and [6] day. 25
That far-off tinkling's drowsy cheer,
Mix'd with a faint yet grating sound
In a moment lost and found,
The Wain announces--by whose side
Along the banks of Rydal Mere 30
He paces on, a trusty Guide,--
Listen! you can scarcely hear!
Hither he his course is bending;--
Now he leaves the lower ground,
And up the craggy hill ascending 35
Many a stop and stay he makes,
Many a breathing-fit he takes;--[7]
Steep the way and wearisome,
Yet all the while his whip is dumb!

The Horses have worked with right good-will, 40
And so [8] have gained the top of the hill;
He was patient, they were strong,
And now they smoothly glide along,
Recovering [9] breath, and pleased to win
The praises of mild Benjamin. 45
Heaven shield him from mishap and snare!
But why so early with this prayer?
Is it for threatenings in the sky?
Or for some other danger nigh?
No; none is near him yet, though he 50
Be one of much infirmity; [10]
For at the bottom of the brow,
Where once the DOVE and OLIVE-BOUGH
Offered a greeting of good ale
To all who entered Grasmere Vale; 55
And called on him who must depart
To leave it with a jovial heart;
There, where the DOVE and OLIVE-BOUGH
Once hung, a Poet harbours now,
A simple water-drinking Bard; 60
Why need our Hero then (though frail
His best resolves) be on his guard?
He marches by, secure and bold;
Yet while he thinks on times of old,
It seems that all looks wondrous cold; 65
He shrugs his shoulders, shakes his head,
And, for the honest folk within,
It is a doubt with Benjamin
Whether they be alive or dead!

_Here_ is no danger,--none at all! 70
Beyond his wish he walks secure; [11]
But pass a mile--and _then_ for trial,--
Then for the pride of self-denial;
If he resist that tempting door,
Which with such friendly voice will call; 75
If he resist those casement panes,
And that bright gleam which thence will fall
Upon his Leaders' bells and manes,
Inviting him with cheerful lure:
For still, though all be dark elsewhere, 80
Some shining notice will be 'there'
Of open house and ready fare.

The place to Benjamin right well [12]
Is known, and by as strong a spell
As used to be that sign of love 85
And hope--the OLIVE-BOUGH and DOVE;
He knows it to his cost, good Man!
Who does not know the famous SWAN?
Object uncouth! and yet our boast, [13]
For it was painted by the Host; 90
His own conceit the figure planned,
'Twas coloured all by his own hand;
And that frail Child of thirsty clay,
Of whom I sing [14] this rustic lay,
Could tell with self-dissatisfaction 95
Quaint stories of the bird's attraction! [C]

Well! that is past--and in despite
Of open door and shining light.
And now the conqueror essays
The long ascent of Dunmail-raise; 100
And with his team is gentle here
As when he clomb from Rydal Mere;
His whip they do not dread--his voice
They only hear it to rejoice.
To stand or go is at _their_ pleasure; 105
Their efforts and their time they measure
By generous pride within the breast;
And, while they strain, and while they rest,
He thus pursues his thoughts at leisure.

Now am I fairly safe to-night--110
And with proud cause my heart is light: [15]
I trespassed lately worse than ever--
But Heaven has blest [16] a good endeavour;
And, to my soul's content, [17] I find
The evil One is left behind. 115
Yes, let my master fume and fret,
Here am I--with my horses yet!
My jolly team, he finds that ye
Will work for nobody but me!
Full proof of this the Country gained; 120
It knows how ye were vexed and strained,
And forced unworthy stripes to bear,
When trusted to another's care.