--
"Now ruthless Tempest launch thy deadliest dart!
"Now ruthless Tempest launch thy deadliest dart!
Wordsworth - 1
on her lap to play
Delighted, with the glow-worm's harmless ray
Toss'd light from hand to hand; while on the ground
Small circles of green radiance gleam around. 1793. ]
[Variant 83:
1836.
Oh! when the bitter showers her path assail,
And roars between the hills the torrent gale, 1793.
. . . sleety showers . . . 1827. ]
[Variant 84:
1827.
Scarce heard, their chattering lips her shoulder chill,
And her cold back their colder bosoms thrill;
All blind she wilders o'er the lightless heath,
Led by Fear's cold wet hand, and dogg'd by Death;
Death, as she turns her neck the kiss to seek,
Breaks off the dreadful kiss with angry shriek.
Snatch'd from her shoulder with despairing moan,
She clasps them at that dim-seen roofless stone.
--
"Now ruthless Tempest launch thy deadliest dart!
Fall fires--but let us perish heart to heart. " 1793.
The first, third, and fourth of these couplets were omitted
from the edition of 1820. The whole passage was withdrawn in
1827. ]
[Variant 85:
1820.
Soon shall the Light'ning hold before thy head
His torch, and shew them slumbering in their bed,
Only in the edition of 1793. ]
[Variant 86:
1820.
While, by the scene compos'd, the breast subsides,
Nought wakens or disturbs it's tranquil tides;
Nought but the char that for the may-fly leaps,
And breaks the mirror of the circling deeps;
Or clock, that blind against the wanderer born
Drops at his feet, and stills his droning horn.
--The whistling swain that plods his ringing way
Where the slow waggon winds along the bay;
The sugh [v] of swallow flocks that twittering sweep,
The solemn curfew swinging long and deep;
The talking boat that moves with pensive sound,
Or drops his anchor down with plunge profound;
Of boys that bathe remote the faint uproar,
And restless piper wearying out the shore;
These all to swell the village murmurs blend,
That soften'd from the water-head descend.
While in sweet cadence rising small and still
The far-off minstrels of the haunted hill,
As the last bleating of the fold expires,
Tune in the mountain dells their water lyres.
Only in the edition of 1793. ]
[Variant 87:
1845.
. . .
Delighted, with the glow-worm's harmless ray
Toss'd light from hand to hand; while on the ground
Small circles of green radiance gleam around. 1793. ]
[Variant 83:
1836.
Oh! when the bitter showers her path assail,
And roars between the hills the torrent gale, 1793.
. . . sleety showers . . . 1827. ]
[Variant 84:
1827.
Scarce heard, their chattering lips her shoulder chill,
And her cold back their colder bosoms thrill;
All blind she wilders o'er the lightless heath,
Led by Fear's cold wet hand, and dogg'd by Death;
Death, as she turns her neck the kiss to seek,
Breaks off the dreadful kiss with angry shriek.
Snatch'd from her shoulder with despairing moan,
She clasps them at that dim-seen roofless stone.
--
"Now ruthless Tempest launch thy deadliest dart!
Fall fires--but let us perish heart to heart. " 1793.
The first, third, and fourth of these couplets were omitted
from the edition of 1820. The whole passage was withdrawn in
1827. ]
[Variant 85:
1820.
Soon shall the Light'ning hold before thy head
His torch, and shew them slumbering in their bed,
Only in the edition of 1793. ]
[Variant 86:
1820.
While, by the scene compos'd, the breast subsides,
Nought wakens or disturbs it's tranquil tides;
Nought but the char that for the may-fly leaps,
And breaks the mirror of the circling deeps;
Or clock, that blind against the wanderer born
Drops at his feet, and stills his droning horn.
--The whistling swain that plods his ringing way
Where the slow waggon winds along the bay;
The sugh [v] of swallow flocks that twittering sweep,
The solemn curfew swinging long and deep;
The talking boat that moves with pensive sound,
Or drops his anchor down with plunge profound;
Of boys that bathe remote the faint uproar,
And restless piper wearying out the shore;
These all to swell the village murmurs blend,
That soften'd from the water-head descend.
While in sweet cadence rising small and still
The far-off minstrels of the haunted hill,
As the last bleating of the fold expires,
Tune in the mountain dells their water lyres.
Only in the edition of 1793. ]
[Variant 87:
1845.
. . .
