Lame as I am, I take the prey, Hell, earth, and sin, with ease o’ercome; 80 I leap for joy, pursue my way, And, as a bounding hart, fly home; Through all eternity to prove, Thy nature and thy Name is Love! _Charles Wesley._ PART THE FOURTH. CLXX _TO THE CUCKOO._ O blithe new-comer! I have heard, I hear thee and rejoice: O Cuckoo! shall I call thee bird, Or but a wandering Voice? While I am lying on the grass, 5 Thy twofold shout I hear; From hill to hill it seems to pass, At once far off and near. Though babbling only to the vale Of sunshine and of flowers, 10 Thou bringest unto me a tale Of visionary hours. Thrice welcome, darling of the Spring! Even yet thou art to me No bird, but an invisible thing, 15 A voice, a mystery; The same whom in my school-boy days I listened to; that Cry Which made me look a thousand ways In bush, and tree, and sky. 20 To seek thee did I often rove Through woods and on the green; And thou wert still a hope, a love; Still longed for, never seen! And I can listen to thee yet; 25 Can lie upon the plain And listen, till I do beget That golden time again. O blessèd bird! the earth we pace Again appears to be 30 An unsubstantial, fairy place That is fit home for thee! _William Wordsworth._ CLXXI _THE RAINBOW._ Triumphal arch that fill’st the sky, When storms prepare to part, I ask not proud Philosophy To teach me what thou art. Still seem, as to my childhood’s sight, 5 A mid-way station given For happy spirits to alight, Betwixt the earth and heaven. Can all that optics teach, unfold Thy form to please me so, 10 As when I dreamed of gems and gold Hid in thy radiant bow? When Science from Creation’s face Enchantment’s veil withdraws, What lovely visions yield their place 15 To cold material laws! And yet, fair bow, no fabling dreams, But words of the Most High, Have told why first thy robe of beams Was woven in the sky. 20 When o’er the green undeluged earth, Heaven’s covenant thou didst shine, How came the world’s gray fathers forth To watch thy sacred sign! And when its yellow lustre smiled 25 O’er mountains yet untrod, Each mother held aloft her child To bless the bow of God.