Volume 5 — PREFACE TO THE EDITION OF 1814 (continued 4)

While thus from theme to theme the Historian passed, The words he uttered, and the scene that lay Before our eyes, awakened in my mind Vivid remembrance of those long-past hours; 5 When, in the hollow of some shadowy vale, (What time the splendour of the setting sun Lay beautiful on Snowdon's sovereign brow,[628] On Cader Idris, or huge Penmanmaur) A wandering Youth, I listened with delight 10 To pastoral melody or warlike air,[IC] Drawn from the chords of the ancient British harp By some accomplished Master, while he sate Amid the quiet of the green recess, And there did inexhaustibly dispense 15 An interchange of soft or solemn tunes, Tender or blithe; now, as the varying mood Of his own spirit urged,—now, as a voice From youth or maiden, or some honoured chief Of his compatriot villagers (that hung 20 Around him, drinking in the impassioned notes Of the time-hallowed minstrelsy) required For their heart's ease or pleasure. Strains of power Were they, to seize and occupy the sense; But to a higher mark than song can reach 25 Rose this pure eloquence. And, when the stream Which overflowed the soul was passed away, A consciousness remained that it had left, Deposited upon the silent shore Of memory, images and precious thoughts, 30 That shall not die, and cannot be destroyed. "These grassy heaps lie amicably close," Said I, "like surges heaving in the wind Along[629] the surface of a mountain pool: Whence comes it, then, that yonder we behold 35 Five graves, and only five, that rise together Unsociably sequestered, and encroaching[630] On the smooth play-ground of the village-school?"[ID] The Vicar answered,—"No disdainful pride In them who rest beneath, nor any course 40 Of strange or tragic accident, hath helped To place those hillocks in that lonely guise. —Once more look forth, and follow with your sight The length of road that[631] from yon mountain's base Through bare enclosures stretches, 'till its line 45 Is lost within[632] a little tuft of trees;[IE] Then, reappearing in a moment, quits The cultured fields; and up the heathy waste, Mounts, as you see, in mazes serpentine, Led towards[633] an easy outlet of the vale.[IF] 50 That little shady spot, that sylvan tuft, By which the road is hidden, also hides A cottage from our view; though I discern (Ye scarcely can) amid its sheltering trees The smokeless chimney-top.— "All unembowered 55 And naked stood that lowly Parsonage (For such in truth it is, and appertains To a small Chapel in the vale beyond) When hither came its last Inhabitant.[IG] Rough and forbidding were the choicest roads 60 By which our northern wilds could then be crossed; And into most of these secluded vales[634] Was no access for wain, heavy or light. So, at his dwelling-place the Priest arrived With store of household goods, in panniers slung 65 On sturdy horses graced with jingling bells, And on the back of more ignoble beast; That, with like burthen of effects most prized Or easiest carried, closed the motley train. Young was I then, a school-boy of eight years; 70 But still, methinks, I see them as they passed In order, drawing toward[635] their wished-for home. —Rocked by the motion of a trusty ass Two ruddy children hung, a well-poised freight, Each in his basket nodding drowsily; 75 Their bonnets, I remember, wreathed with flowers, Which told it was[636] the pleasant month of June; And, close behind, the comely Matron rode, A woman of soft speech and gracious smile, And with a lady's mien.—From far they came, 80 Even from Northumbrian hills; yet theirs had been A merry journey, rich in pastime, cheered By music, prank, and laughter-stirring jest; And freak put on, and arch word dropped—to swell The cloud of fancy and uncouth surmise 85 That gathered round the slowly-moving train. —'Whence do they come? and with what errand charged? 'Belong they to the fortune-telling tribe 'Who pitch their tents under the green-wood tree? 'Or Strollers are they,[637] furnished to enact 90 'Fair Rosamond,[IH] and the Children of the Wood,[II] 'And, by that whiskered tabby's aid, set forth 'The lucky venture of sage Whittington,[IJ] 'When the next village hears the show announced 'By blast of trumpet?' Plenteous was the growth 95 Of such conjectures, overheard, or seen On many a staring countenance portrayed Of boor or burgher, as they marched along. And more than once their steadiness of face Was put to proof, and exercise supplied 100 To their inventive humour, by stern looks, And questions in authoritative tone, From some staid guardian of the public peace, Checking the sober steed on which he rode, In his suspicious wisdom; oftener still, 105 By notice indirect, or blunt demand From traveller halting in his own despite, A simple curiosity to ease: Of which adventures, that beguiled and cheered Their grave migration, the good pair would tell, 110 With undiminished glee, in hoary age. "A Priest he was by function; but his course From his youth up, and high as manhood's noon, (The hour of life to which he then was brought) Had been irregular, I might say, wild; 115 By books unsteadied, by his pastoral care Too little checked. An active, ardent mind; A fancy pregnant with resource and scheme To cheat the sadness of a rainy day; Hands apt for all ingenious arts and games; 120 A generous spirit, and a body strong To cope with stoutest champions of the bowl; Had earned for him sure welcome, and the rights Of a prized visitant, in the jolly hall Of country 'squire; or at the statelier board 125 Of duke or earl, from scenes of courtly pomp Withdrawn,—to while away the summer hours In condescension among rural guests. "With these high comrades he had revelled long, Frolicked industriously, a simple Clerk 130 By hopes of coming patronage beguiled Till the heart sickened. So, each loftier aim Abandoning and all his showy friends,[638] For a life's stay (slender it was, but sure) He turned to this secluded chapelry; 135 That[639] had been offered to his doubtful choice By an unthought-of patron. Bleak and bare They found the cottage, their allotted home; Naked without, and rude within; a spot With which the Cure not long had been endowed: 140 And far remote the chapel stood,[IK]—remote, And, from his Dwelling, unapproachable, Save through a gap high in the hills, an opening Shadeless and shelterless, by driving showers Frequented, and beset with howling winds.[640] 145 Yet cause was none, whate'er regret might hang On his own mind, to quarrel with the choice Or the necessity that fixed him here; Apart from old temptations, and constrained To punctual labour in his sacred charge. 150 See him a constant preacher to the poor! And visiting, though not with saintly zeal, Yet, when need was, with no reluctant will, The sick in body, or distrest in mind; And, by as salutary change, compelled 155 To rise[641] from timely sleep, and meet the day With no engagement, in his thoughts, more proud Or splendid than his garden could afford, His fields, or mountains by the heath-cock ranged, Or the[642] wild brooks; from which he now returned 160 Contented to partake the quiet meal Of his own board,[643] where sat his gentle Mate And three fair Children, plentifully fed Though simply, from their little household farm; Nor wanted timely treat[644] of fish or fowl 165 By nature yielded to his practised hand;— To help the small but certain comings-in Of that spare benefice. Yet not the less Theirs was a hospitable board, and theirs A charitable door. "So days and years 170 Passed on;—the inside of that rugged house Was trimmed and brightened by the Matron's care, And gradually enriched with things of price, Which might be lacked for use or ornament. What, though no soft and costly sofa there 175 Insidiously stretched out its lazy length, And no vain mirror glittered upon[645] the walls, Yet were the windows of the low abode By shutters weather-fended, which[646] at once Repelled the storm and deadened its loud roar. 180 There snow-white curtains hung in decent folds; Tough moss, and long-enduring mountain plants, That creep along the ground with sinuous trail, Were nicely braided; and composed a work Like Indian mats, that with appropriate grace 185 Lay at the threshold and the inner doors; And a fair carpet, woven of homespun wool But tinctured daintily with florid hues, For seemliness and warmth, on festal[647] days, Covered the smooth blue slabs of mountain-stone 190 With which the parlour-floor, in simplest guise Of pastoral homesteads, had been long inlaid.[IL] "Those[648] pleasing works the Housewife's skill produced: Meanwhile the unsedentary Master's hand Was busier with his task—to rid, to plant, 195 To rear for food, for shelter, and delight; A thriving covert! And when wishes, formed In youth, and sanctioned by the riper mind, Restored me to my native valley, here To end my days; well pleased was I to see 200 The once-bare cottage, on the mountain-side, Screen'd from assault of every bitter blast; While the dark shadows of the summer leaves Danced in the breeze, chequering its mossy roof.[649] Time, which had thus afforded willing help 205 To beautify with nature's fairest growths[650] This rustic tenement, had gently shed, Upon its Master's frame, a wintry grace; The comeliness of unenfeebled age. "But how could I say, gently? for he still 210 Retained a flashing eye, a burning palm, A stirring foot, a[651] head which beat at nights Upon its pillow with a thousand schemes. Few likings had he dropped, few pleasures lost; Generous and charitable, prompt to serve; 215 And still his harsher passions kept their hold— Anger and indignation. Still he loved The sound of titled names, and talked in glee Of long-past banquetings with high-born friends: Then, from those lulling fits of vain delight 220 Uproused by recollected injury, railed At their false ways disdainfully,—and oft In bitterness, and with a threatening eye Of fire, incensed beneath its hoary brow. —Those[652] transports, with staid looks of pure good-will, 225 And with soft smile, his consort would reprove. She, far behind him in the race of years, Yet keeping her first mildness, was advanced Far nearer, in the habit of her soul, To that still region whither all are bound. 230 Him might we liken to the setting sun As seen not seldom[653] on some gusty day, Struggling and bold, and shining from the west With an inconstant and unmellowed light; She was a soft attendant cloud, that hung 235 As if with wish to veil the restless orb; From which it did itself imbibe a ray Of pleasing lustre.—But no more of this; I better love to sprinkle on the sod That[654] now divides the pair, or rather say, 240 That[655] still unites them, praises, like heaven's dew, Without reserve descending[656] upon both. [657]"Our very first in eminence of years This old Man stood, the patriarch of the Vale! And, to his unmolested mansion, death 245 Had never come, through space of forty years; Sparing both old and young in that abode. Suddenly then they disappeared: not twice Had summer scorched the fields; not twice had fallen, On those high peaks, the first autumnal snow, 250 Before the greedy visiting was closed, And the long-privileged house left empty—swept As by a plague.[IM] Yet no rapacious plague Had been among them; all was gentle death, One after one, with intervals of peace. 255 A happy consummation! an accord Sweet, perfect, to be wished for! save that here Was something which to mortal sense might sound Like harshness,—that the old grey-headed Sire, The oldest, he was taken last, survived 260 When the meek Partner of his age, his Son, His Daughter, and that late and high-prized gift, His little smiling Grandchild, were no more. "'All gone, all vanished! he deprived and bare, 'How will he face the remnant of his life? 265 'What will become of him?' we said, and mused In sad conjectures—'Shall we meet him now 'Haunting with rod and line the craggy brooks? 'Or shall we overhear him, as we pass, 'Striving to entertain the lonely hours 270 'With music?' (for he had not ceased to touch The harp or viol which himself had framed, For their sweet purposes, with perfect skill.) 'What titles will he keep? will he remain 'Musician, gardener, builder, mechanist, 275 'A planter, and a rearer from the seed? 'A man of hope and forward-looking mind 'Even to the last!'—Such was he, unsubdued. But Heaven was gracious; yet a little while, And this Survivor, with his cheerful throng 280 Of open projects, and his[658] inward hoard Of unsunned griefs, too many and too keen, Was overcome by unexpected sleep, In one blest moment. Like a shadow thrown Softly and lightly from a passing cloud, 285 Death fell upon him, while reclined he lay For noontide solace on the summer grass, The warm lap of his mother earth:[IN] and so, Their lenient term of separation past, That family (whose graves you there behold) 290 By yet a higher privilege once more Were gathered to each other."[IO] Calm of mind And silence waited on these closing words; Until the Wanderer (whether moved by fear Lest in those[659] passages of life were some That might have touched the sick heart of his Friend 296 Too nearly, or intent to reinforce His own firm spirit in degree deprest By tender sorrow for our mortal state) Thus silence broke:—"Behold a thoughtless Man 300 From vice and premature decay preserved By useful habits, to a fitter soil Transplanted ere too late.—The hermit, lodged Amid[660] the untrodden desert, tells his beads, With each repeating its allotted prayer 305 And thus divides and thus relieves the time; Smooth task, with his[661] compared, whose mind could string, Not scantily, bright minutes on the thread Of keen domestic anguish; and beguile A solitude, unchosen, unprofessed; Till gentlest death released him. 310 "Far from us Be the desire—too curiously to ask How much of this is but the blind result Of cordial spirits and vital temperament, And what to higher powers is justly due. 315 But you, Sir, know that in a neighbouring vale[IP] A Priest abides before whose life such doubts Fall to the ground; whose gifts of nature lie Retired from notice, lost in attributes Of reason, honourably effaced by debts 320 Which her poor treasure-house is content to owe, And conquests over her dominion gained, To which her frowardness must needs submit. In this one Man is shown a temperance—proof Against all trials; industry severe 325 And constant as the motion of the day; Stern self-denial round him spread, with shade That might be deemed forbidding, did not there All generous feelings flourish and rejoice; Forbearance, charity in deed and thought, 330 And resolution competent to take Out of the bosom of simplicity All that her holy customs recommend, And the best ages of the world prescribe. —Preaching, administering, in every work 335 Of his sublime vocation, in the walks Of worldly intercourse between[662] man and man, And in his humble dwelling, he appears A labourer, with moral virtue girt, 339 With spiritual graces, like a glory, crowned." "Doubt can be none," the Pastor said, "for whom This portraiture is sketched. The great, the good, The well-beloved, the fortunate, the wise,— These titles emperors and chiefs have borne, Honour assumed or given: and him, the WONDERFUL, 345 Our simple shepherds, speaking from the heart, Deservedly have styled.[IQ]—From his abode In a dependent chapelry that lies Behind yon hill, a poor and rugged wild,[IR] Which in his soul he lovingly embraced, 350 And, having once espoused, would never quit; Into its graveyard will ere long be borne That lowly, great, good Man. A simple stone[663] May cover him;[IS] and by its help, perchance, A century shall hear his name pronounced, 355 With images attendant on the sound; Then, shall the slowly-gathering twilight close In utter night; and of his course remain No cognizable vestiges, no more Than of this breath, which shapes[664] itself in words 360 To speak of him, and instantly dissolves." The Pastor pressed by thoughts which round his theme Still linger'd, after a brief pause, resumed; "Noise[665] is there not enough in doleful war, But that the heaven-born poet must stand forth, 365 And lend the echoes of his sacred shell, To multiply and aggravate the din? Pangs are there not enough in hopeless love— And, in requited passion, all too much Of turbulence, anxiety, and fear— 370 But that the minstrel of the rural shade Must tune his pipe, insidiously to nurse The perturbation in the suffering breast, And propagate its kind, far as he may?[666] —Ah who (and with such rapture as befits 375 The hallowed theme) will rise and celebrate The good man's purposes and deeds;[667] retrace His struggles, his discomfitures[668] deplore, His triumphs hail, and glorify his end; That virtue, like the fumes and vapoury clouds 380 Through fancy's heat redounding in the brain, And like the soft infections of the heart, By charm of measured words may spread o'er field, Hamlet, and town;[669] and piety survive Upon the lips of men in hall or bower; 385 Not for reproof, but high and warm delight, And grave encouragement, by song inspired? —Vain thought! but wherefore murmur or repine? The memory of the just survives in heaven: And, without sorrow, will the[670] ground receive 390 That venerable clay. Meanwhile the best Of what lies here[671] confines us to degrees In excellence less difficult to reach, And milder worth: nor need we travel far From those to whom our last regards were paid, For such example. 395 "Almost at the root Of that tall pine, the shadow of whose bare And slender stem, while here I sit at eve, Oft stretches toward[672] me, like a long straight path Traced faintly in the greensward; there, beneath 400 A plain blue stone, a gentle Dalesman lies,[673] From whom, in early childhood, was withdrawn The precious gift of hearing.[IT] He grew up From year to year in loneliness of soul; And this deep mountain-valley was to him Soundless, with all its streams.[IU] The bird of dawn 406 Did never rouse this Cottager from sleep With startling summons; not for his delight The vernal cuckoo shouted; not for him Murmured the labouring bee. When stormy winds 410 Were working the broad bosom of the lake Into a thousand thousand sparkling waves, Rocking the trees, or driving cloud on cloud Along the sharp edge of yon lofty crags,[IV] The agitated scene before his eye 415 Was silent as a picture: evermore Were all things silent, wheresoe'er he moved. Yet, by the solace of his own pure thoughts Upheld, he duteously pursued the round Of rural labours; the steep mountain-side 420 Ascended, with his staff and faithful dog; The plough he guided, and the scythe he swayed; And the ripe corn before his sickle fell Among the jocund reapers. For himself, All watchful and industrious as he was, He wrought not: neither field nor flock he owned: 426 No wish for wealth had place within his mind; Nor husband's[674] love, nor father's hope or care. "Though born a younger brother, need was none That from the floor of his paternal home 430 He should depart, to plant himself anew. And when, mature in manhood, he beheld His parents laid in earth, no loss ensued Of rights to him; but he remained well pleased, By the pure bond of independent love, 435 An inmate of a second family; The fellow-labourer and friend of him To whom the small inheritance had fallen. —Nor deem that his mild presence was a weight That pressed upon his brother's house; for books 440 Were ready comrades whom he could not tire; Of whose society the blameless Man Was never satiate. Their familiar voice, Even to old age, with unabated charm Beguiled his leisure hours; refreshed his thoughts; 445 Beyond its natural elevation raised His introverted spirit; and bestowed Upon his life an outward dignity Which all acknowledged. The dark winter night, The stormy day, each had[675] its own resource; 450 Song of the muses, sage historic tale, Science severe, or word of holy Writ Announcing immortality and joy To the assembled spirits of just men Made perfect, and from injury secure.[676] 455 —Thus soothed at home, thus busy in the field, To no perverse suspicion he gave way, No languor, peevishness, nor vain complaint: And they, who were about him, did not fail In reverence, or in courtesy; they prized 460 His gentle manners: and his peaceful smiles, The gleams of his slow-varying countenance, Were met with answering sympathy and love. "At length, when sixty years and five were told, A slow disease insensibly consumed 465 The powers of nature: and a few short steps Of friends and kindred bore him from his home (Yon cottage shaded by the woody crags) To the profounder stillness of the grave. —Nor was his funeral denied the grace 470 Of many tears, virtuous and thoughtful grief; Heart-sorrow rendered sweet by gratitude. And now that monumental stone preserves His name, and unambitiously relates How long, and by what kindly outward aids, 475 And in what pure contentedness of mind, The sad privation was by him endured. —And yon tall pine-tree, whose composing sound Was wasted on the good Man's living ear, Hath now its own peculiar sanctity; 480 And, at the touch of every wandering breeze, Murmurs, not idly, o'er his peaceful grave. "Soul-cheering Light, most bountiful of things! Guide of our way, mysterious comforter! Whose sacred influence, spread through earth and heaven, 485 We all too thanklessly participate, Thy gifts were utterly withheld from him Whose place of rest is near yon ivied porch.[IW] Yet, of the wild brooks ask if he complained; Ask of the channelled rivers if they held 490 A safer, easier, more determined, course. What terror doth it strike into the mind To think of one, blind and alone, advancing Straight toward some precipice's airy brink![677] But, timely warned, He would have stayed his steps, 495 Protected, say enlightened, by his ear; And on the very edge[678] of vacancy Not more endangered than a man whose eye Beholds the gulf beneath.—No floweret blooms Throughout the lofty range of these rough hills, 500 Nor[679] in the woods, that could from him conceal Its birth-place; none whose figure did not live Upon his touch.[IX] The bowels of the earth Enriched with knowledge his industrious mind; The ocean paid him tribute from the stores 505 Lodged in her bosom; and, by science led, His genius mounted to the plains of heaven. —Methinks I see him—how his eye-balls rolled, Beneath his ample brow, in darkness paired,— But each instinct with spirit;[IY] and the frame 510 Of the whole countenance alive with thought, Fancy, and understanding; while the voice Discoursed of natural or[680] moral truth With eloquence, and such authentic power, That, in his presence, humbler knowledge stood 515 Abashed, and tender pity overawed."[IZ] "A noble—and, to unreflecting minds, A marvellous spectacle," the Wanderer said, "Beings like these present! But proof abounds Upon the earth that faculties, which seem 520 Extinguished, do not, therefore cease to be. And to the mind among her powers of sense This transfer is permitted,—not alone That the bereft their recompense may win;[681] But for remoter purposes of love 525 And charity; nor last nor least for this, That to the imagination may be given A type and shadow of an awful truth;[682] How, likewise, under sufferance divine, Darkness is banished from the realms of death, 530 By man's imperishable spirit, quelled. Unto the men who see not as we see Futurity was thought, in ancient times, To be laid open, and they prophesied. And know we not that from the blind have flowed 535 The highest, holiest, raptures of the lyre; And wisdom married to immortal verse?"[JA] Among the humbler Worthies, at our feet Lying insensible to human praise, Love, or regret,—whose lineaments would next Have been portrayed, I guess not; but it chanced 541 That, near the quiet church-yard where we sate, A team of horses, with a ponderous freight Pressing behind, adown a rugged slope, Whose sharp descent confounded their array, 545 Came at that moment, ringing noisily. "Here," said the Pastor, "do we muse, and mourn The waste of death; and lo! the giant oak Stretched on his bier—that massy timber wain; Nor fail to note the Man who guides the team." 550 He was a peasant of the lowest class: Grey locks profusely round his temples hung In clustering curls, like ivy, which the bite Of winter cannot thin; the fresh air lodged Within his cheek, as light within a cloud; 555 And he returned our greeting with a smile. When he had passed, the Solitary spake; "A Man he seems of cheerful yesterdays And confident to-morrows; with a face Not worldly-minded, for it bears too much 560 Of Nature's impress,—gaiety and health, Freedom and hope; but keen, withal, and shrewd. His gestures note,—and hark! his tones of voice Are all vivacious as his mien and looks." The Pastor answered. "You have read him well. 565 Year after year is added to his store With silent increase: summers, winters—past, Past or to come; yea, boldly might I say, Ten summers and ten winters of a space[683] That lies beyond life's ordinary bounds, 570 Upon his sprightly vigour cannot fix The obligation of an anxious mind, A pride in having, or a fear to lose; Possessed like outskirts of some large domain, By any one more thought of than by him 575 Who holds the land in fee, its careless lord! Yet is the creature rational, endowed With foresight; hears, too, every sabbath day, The christian promise with attentive ear; Nor will, I trust, the Majesty of Heaven 580 Reject the incense offered up by him, Though of the kind which beasts and birds present[684] In grove or pasture; cheerfulness of soul, From trepidation and repining free. How many scrupulous worshippers fall down 585 Upon their knees, and daily homage pay Less worthy, less religious even, than his! "This qualified respect, the old Man's due, Is paid without reluctance; but in truth," (Said the good Vicar with a fond half-smile) 590 "I feel at times a motion of despite Towards one, whose bold contrivances and skill, As you have seen, bear such conspicuous part In works of havoc; taking from these vales, One after one, their proudest ornaments. 595 Full oft his doings leave me to deplore Tall ash-tree, sown by winds, by vapours nursed, In the dry crannies of the pendent rocks; Light birch, aloft upon the horizon's edge, A veil[685] of glory for the ascending moon; And oak whose roots by noontide dew were damped, 601 And on whose forehead inaccessible The raven lodged in safety.—Many a ship Launched into Morecamb-bay to him hath owed[686] Her strong knee-timbers, and the mast that bears 605 The loftiest of her pendants; He, from park Or forest, fetched the enormous axle-tree That whirls (how slow itself!) ten thousand spindles[687] And the vast engine labouring in the mine, Content with meaner prowess, must have lacked 610 The trunk and body of its[688] marvellous strength, If his undaunted enterprise had failed Among the mountain coves. "Yon household fir,[689] A guardian planted to fence off the blast, But towering high the roof above, as if 615 Its humble destination were forgot— That sycamore, which annually holds Within its shade, as in a stately tent[JB] On all sides open to the fanning breeze, A grave assemblage, seated while they shear 620 The fleece-encumbered flock—the Joyful Elm, Around whose trunk the maidens[690] dance in May— And the Lord's Oak—would plead their several rights In vain, if he were master of their fate; His sentence[691] to the axe would doom them all. 625 But, green in age and lusty as he is, And promising to keep his hold on earth[692] Less, as might seem, in rivalship with men Than with the forest's more enduring growth, His own appointed hour will come at last; 630 And, like the haughty Spoilers of the world, This keen Destroyer, in his turn, must fall. "Now from the living pass we once again: From Age," the Priest continued, "turn your thoughts; From Age, that often unlamented drops, 635 And mark that daisied hillock, three spans long![JC] —Seven lusty Sons sate daily round the board Of Gold-rill[JD] side; and, when the hope had ceased Of other progeny, a Daughter then Was given, the crowning bounty of the whole; 640 And so acknowledged with a tremulous joy Felt to the centre of that heavenly calm[693] With which by nature every mother's soul Is stricken in the moment when her throes Are ended, and her ears have heard the cry 645 Which tells her that a living child is born; And she lies conscious, in a blissful rest, That the dread storm is weathered by them both. "The Father—him at this unlooked-for gift A bolder transport seizes. From the side 650 Of his bright hearth, and from his open door, Day after day[694] the gladness is diffused To all that come, almost to all[695] that pass; Invited, summoned, to partake the cheer Spread on the never-empty board, and drink 655 Health and good wishes to his new-born girl, From cups replenished by his joyous hand. —Those seven fair brothers variously were moved Each by the thoughts best suited to his years: But most of all and with most thankful mind 660 The hoary grandsire felt himself enriched; A happiness that ebbed not, but remained To fill the total measure of his[696] soul! —From the low tenement, his own abode, Whither, as to a little private cell, 665 He had withdrawn from bustle, care, and noise, To spend the sabbath of old age in peace, Once every day he duteously repaired To rock the cradle of the slumbering babe: For in that female infant's name he heard 670 The silent name of his departed wife; Heart-stirring music! hourly heard that name; Full blest he was, 'Another Margaret Green,' Oft did he say, 'was come to Gold-rill side.' "Oh! pang unthought of, as the precious boon 675 Itself had been unlooked-for; oh! dire stroke Of desolating anguish for them all! —Just as the Child could totter on the floor, And, by some friendly finger's help upstayed, Range round the garden walk, while she perchance 680 Was catching at some novelty of spring, Ground-flower, or glossy insect from its cell Drawn by the sunshine—at that hopeful season[697] The winds of March, smiting insidiously,[698] Raised in the tender passage of the throat 685 Viewless obstruction; whence, all unforewarned, The household lost their pride and soul's delight. —But time hath power[699] to soften all regrets, And prayer and thought can bring to worst distress Due resignation. Therefore, though some tears 690 Fail not to spring from either Parent's eye Oft as they hear of sorrow like their own, Yet this departed Little-one, too long The innocent troubler of their quiet, sleeps In what may now be called a peaceful bed.[JE] "On a bright day—so calm and bright, it seemed[JF] 696 To us, with our sad spirits, heavenly-fair— These mountains echoed to an unknown sound;[700] A volley, thrice repeated o'er the Corse Let down into the hollow of that grave, 700 Whose shelving sides are red with naked mould. Ye rains of April, duly wet this earth! Spare, burning sun of midsummer, these sods, That they may knit together, and therewith Our thoughts unite in kindred quietness! 705 Nor so the Valley shall forget her loss. Dear Youth, by young and old alike beloved,[JG] To me as precious as my own!—Green herbs May creep (I wish that they would softly creep) Over thy last abode, and we may pass 710 Reminded less imperiously of thee;— The ridge itself may sink into the breast Of earth, the great abyss, and be no more; Yet shall not thy remembrance leave our hearts, Thy image disappear! "The Mountain-ash 715 No eye can overlook, when 'mid a grove Of yet unfaded trees she lifts her head Decked[701] with autumnal berries, that outshine Spring's richest blossoms; and ye may have marked,[702] By a brook-side or solitary tarn, 720 How she her station doth adorn: the pool Glows at her feet, and all the gloomy rocks Are brightened round her. In his native vale Such and so glorious did this Youth appear; A sight that kindled pleasure in all hearts 725 By his ingenuous beauty, by the gleam Of his fair eyes, by his capacious brow, By all the graces with which nature's hand Had lavishly[703] arrayed him. As old bards Tell in their idle songs of wandering gods, 730 Pan or Apollo, veiled in human form: Yet, like the sweet-breathed violet of the shade Discovered in their own despite to sense Of mortals (if such fables without blame May find chance-mention on this sacred ground) 735 So, through a simple rustic garb's disguise, And through the impediment of rural cares, In him revealed a scholar's genius shone; And so, not wholly hidden from men's sight, In him the spirit of a hero walked 740 Our unpretending valley.—How the quoit Whizzed from the Stripling's arm! If touched by him, The inglorious foot-ball mounted to the pitch Of the lark's flight,—or shaped a rainbow curve, Aloft, in prospect of the shouting field! 745 The indefatigable fox had learned To dread his perseverance in the chase.[704] With admiration would he lift[705] his eyes To the wide-ruling eagle, and his hand Was loth to assault the majesty he loved: 750 Else had the strongest fastnesses proved weak To guard the royal brood. The sailing glead, The wheeling swallow, and the darting snipe; The sportive sea-gull dancing with the waves, And cautious water-fowl, from distant climes, 755 Fixed at their seat, the centre of the Mere, Were subject to young Oswald's steady aim, And lived by his forbearance. "From the coast Of France a boastful Tyrant hurled his threats;[706][JH] Our Country marked the preparation vast[707] 760 Of hostile forces; and she called—with voice That filled her plains, that[708] reached her utmost shores, And in remotest vales was heard—to arms! —Then, for the first time, here you might have seen The shepherd's grey to martial scarlet changed, 765 That flashed uncouthly through the woods and fields. Ten hardy Striplings, all in bright attire, And graced with shining weapons, weekly marched, From this lone valley, to a central spot Where, in assemblage with the flower and choice 770 Of the surrounding district, they might learn The rudiments of war; ten—hardy, strong, And valiant; but young Oswald, like a chief And yet a modest comrade, led them forth From their shy solitude, to face the world, 775 With a gay confidence and seemly pride; Measuring the soil beneath their happy feet Like Youths released from labour, and yet bound To most laborious service, though to them A festival of unencumbered ease; 780 The inner spirit keeping holiday, Like vernal ground to sabbath sunshine left. "Oft have I marked him, at some leisure hour, Stretched on the grass, or seated in the shade, Among his fellows, while an ample map 785 Before their eyes lay carefully outspread, From which the gallant teacher would discourse, Now pointing this way, and now that.—'Here flows,' Thus would he say, 'The Rhine, that famous stream! 'Eastward, the Danube toward[709] this inland sea, 790 'A mightier river, winds from realm to realm; 'And, like a serpent, shows his glittering back 'Bespotted—with innumerable isles: 'Here reigns the Russian, there the Turk; observe 'His capital city!' Thence, along a tract 795 Of livelier interest to his hopes and fears, His finger moved, distinguishing the spots Where wide-spread conflict then most fiercely raged; Nor left unstigmatized those fatal fields On which the sons of mighty Germany 800 Were taught a base submission.—'Here behold 'A nobler race, the Switzers, and their land, 'Vales deeper far than these of ours, huge woods, 'And mountains white with everlasting snow!' —And, surely, he, that spake with kindling brow, 805 Was a true patriot, hopeful as the best Of that young peasantry, who, in our days, Have fought and perished for Helvetia's rights— Ah, not in vain!—or those who, in old time, For work of happier issue, to the side 810 Of Tell came trooping from a thousand huts, When he had risen alone![JI] No braver Youth Descended from Judean[710] heights, to march With righteous Joshua;[JJ] nor[711] appeared in arms When grove was felled, and altar was cast down, 815 And Gideon blew the trumpet, soul-inflamed, And strong in hatred of idolatry." The Pastor, even as if by these last words Raised from his seat within the chosen shade, Moved towards the grave;—instinctively his steps 820 We followed; and my voice with joy exclaimed:[712] "Power to the Oppressors of the world is given, A might of which they dream not. Oh! the curse, To be the awakener of divinest thoughts, Father and founder of exalted deeds; 825 And, to whole nations bound in servile straits, The liberal donor of capacities More than heroic! this to be, nor yet Have sense of one connatural wish, nor yet Deserve the least return of human thanks; 830 Winning no recompense but deadly hate With pity mixed, astonishment with scorn!" When this involuntary strain had ceased,[713] The Pastor said: "So Providence is served; The forkèd weapon of the skies can send 835 Illumination into deep, dark holds, Which the mild sunbeam hath not power to pierce. Ye Thrones that have defied remorse, and cast Pity away, soon shall ye quake with fear![714] For, not unconscious of the mighty debt 840 Which to outrageous wrong the sufferer owes, Europe, through all her habitable bounds,[715] Is thirsting for their overthrow, who yet Survive, as pagan temples stood of yore, By horror of their impious rites, preserved; 845 Are still permitted to extend their pride,[716] Like cedars on the top of Lebanon Darkening the sun. "But less impatient thoughts, And love 'all hoping and expecting all,'[JK] This hallowed grave demands, where rests in peace 850 A humble champion of the better cause; A Peasant-youth, so call him, for he asked No higher name; in whom our country showed, As in a favourite son, most beautiful. In spite of vice, and misery, and disease, 855 Spread with the spreading of her wealthy arts, England, the ancient and the free, appeared In him to stand before my swimming eyes, Unconquerably virtuous and secure. —No more of this, lest I offend his dust: 860 Short was his life, and a brief tale remains. "One day—a summer's day of annual pomp[717] And solemn chase—from morn to sultry noon His steps had followed, fleetest of the fleet, The red-deer driven along its native heights 865 With cry of hound and horn; and, from that toil Returned with sinews weakened and relaxed, This generous Youth, too negligent of self, Plunged—'mid a gay and busy throng convened To wash the fleeces of his Father's flock— 870 Into the chilling flood. Convulsions dire[718] Seized him, that self-same night; and through the space Of twelve ensuing days his frame was wrenched, Till nature rested from her work in death. To him, thus snatched away, his comrades paid 875 A soldier's honours. At his funeral hour Bright was the sun, the sky a cloudless blue— A golden lustre slept upon the hills; And if by chance a stranger, wandering there, From some commanding eminence had looked 880 Down on this spot, well pleased would he have seen A glittering spectacle; but every face Was pallid: seldom hath that eye been moist With tears, that wept not then; nor were the few, Who from their dwellings came not forth to join 885 In this sad service, less disturbed than we. They started at the tributary peal Of instantaneous thunder, which announced, Through the still air, the closing of the Grave; And distant mountains echoed with a sound 890 Of lamentation, never heard before!" The Pastor ceased.—My venerable Friend Victoriously upraised his clear bright eye; And, when that eulogy was ended, stood Enrapt, as if his inward sense perceived 895 The prolongation of some still response, Sent by the ancient Soul of this wide land, The Spirit of its mountains and its seas, Its cities, temples, fields, its awful power, Its rights and virtues—by that Deity 900 Descending, and supporting his pure heart With patriotic confidence and joy. And, at the last of those memorial words, The pining Solitary turned aside; Whether through manly instinct to conceal 905 Tender emotions spreading from the heart To his worn cheek; or with uneasy shame For those cold humours of habitual spleen That,[719] fondly seeking in dispraise of man Solace and self-excuse, had sometimes urged 910 To self-abuse a not ineloquent tongue. —Right toward[720] the sacred Edifice his steps Had been directed; and we saw him now Intent upon a monumental stone, Whose uncouth form was grafted on the wall, 915 Or rather seemed to have grown into the side Of the rude pile; as oft-times trunks of trees, Where nature works in wild and craggy spots, Are seen incorporate with the living rock— To endure for aye. The Vicar, taking note 920 Of his employment, with a courteous smile Exclaimed— "The sagest Antiquarian's eye That task would foil;" then, letting fall his voice While he advanced, thus spake: "Tradition tells[721] That, in Eliza's golden days,[JL] a Knight 925 Came on a war-horse[JM] sumptuously attired, And fixed his home in this sequestered vale. 'Tis left untold if here he first drew breath, Or as a stranger reached this deep recess, Unknowing and unknown. A pleasing thought 930 I sometimes entertain, that haply bound To Scotland's court in service of his Queen, Or sent on mission to some northern Chief Of England's realm, this vale he might have seen With transient observation; and thence caught 935 An image fair, which, brightening in his soul When joy of war and pride of chivalry Languished beneath accumulated years,[722] Had power to draw him from the world, resolved To make that paradise his chosen home 940 To which his peaceful fancy oft had turned. "Vague thoughts are these; but, if belief may rest Upon unwritten story fondly traced From sire to son, in this obscure retreat The Knight arrived, with spear and shield, and borne 945 Upon a Charger gorgeously bedecked With broidered housings.[723] And the lofty Steed—[JN] His sole companion, and his faithful friend, Whom he, in gratitude, let loose to range In fertile pastures—was beheld with eyes 950 Of admiration and delightful awe, By those untravelled Dalesmen. With less pride, Yet free from touch of envious discontent, They saw a mansion at his bidding rise, 954 Like a bright star, amid the lowly band Of their rude homesteads. Here the Warrior dwelt; And, in that mansion, children of his own, Or kindred, gathered round him. As a tree That falls and disappears, the house is gone;[JO] And, through improvidence or want of love 960 For ancient worth and honourable things, The spear and shield are vanished, which the Knight Hung in his rustic hall. One ivied arch Myself have seen, a gateway,[JO] last remains Of that foundation in domestic care 965 Raised by his hands. And now no trace is left Of the mild-hearted Champion, save this stone, Faithless memorial! and his family name Borne by yon clustering cottages, that sprang From out the ruins of his stately lodge: 970 These, and the name and title at full length,— Sir Alfred Irthing, with appropriate words Accompanied, still extant, in a wreath Or posy, girding round the several fronts Of three clear-sounding and harmonious bells, 975 That in the steeple hang, his pious gift."[JP] "So fails, so languishes, grows dim, and dies," The grey-haired Wanderer pensively exclaimed, "All that this world is proud of. From their spheres The stars of human glory are cast down; 980 Perish the roses and the flowers of kings,[JQ] Princes, and emperors, and the crowns and palms Of all the mighty, withered and consumed! Nor is power given to lowliest innocence Long to protect her own. The man himself 985 Departs; and soon is spent the line of those Who, in the bodily image, in the mind, In heart or soul, in station or pursuit, Did most resemble him. Degrees and ranks, Fraternities and orders—heaping high 990 New wealth upon the burthen of the old, And placing trust in privilege confirmed And re-confirmed—are scoffed at with a smile Of greedy foretaste, from the secret stand Of Desolation, aimed: to slow decline 995 These yield, and these to sudden overthrow: Their virtue, service, happiness, and state Expire; and nature's pleasant robe of green, Humanity's appointed shroud, enwraps Their monuments and their memory. The vast Frame 1000 Of social nature changes evermore Her organs and her members with decay Restless, and restless generation, powers And functions dying and produced at need,— And by this law the mighty whole subsists: 1005 With an ascent and progress in the main; Yet, oh! how disproportioned to the hopes And expectations of self-flattering minds! "The courteous Knight, whose bones are here interred, Lived in an age conspicuous as our own 1010 For strife and ferment in the minds of men; Whence alteration in the forms of things, Various and vast. A memorable age! Which did to him assign a pensive lot— To linger 'mid the last of those bright clouds 1015 That, on the steady breeze of honour, sailed In long procession calm and beautiful. He who had seen his own bright order fade, And its devotion gradually decline, (While war, relinquishing the lance and shield, 1020 Her temper changed, and bowed to other laws) Had also witnessed, in his morn of life, That violent commotion, which o'erthrew, In town and city and sequestered glen, Altar, and cross, and church of solemn roof, 1025 And old religious house—pile after pile; And shook their[724] tenants out into the fields, Like wild beasts without home! Their hour was come; But why no softening thought of gratitude, No just remembrance, scruple, or wise doubt? 1030 Benevolence is mild; nor borrows help, Save at worst need, from bold impetuous force, Fitliest allied to anger and revenge. But Human-kind rejoices in the might Of mutability; and airy hopes, 1035 Dancing around her, hinder and disturb Those meditations of the soul that[725] feed The retrospective virtues. Festive songs Break from the maddened nations at the sight Of sudden overthrow; and cold neglect 1040 Is the sure consequence of slow decay. "Even," said the Wanderer, "as that courteous Knight, Bound by his vow to labour for redress Of all who suffer wrong, and to enact By sword and lance the law of gentleness, 1045 (If I may venture of myself to speak, Trusting that not incongruously I blend Low things with lofty) I too shall be doomed To outlive the kindly use and fair esteem Of the poor calling which my youth embraced 1050 With no unworthy prospect. But enough; —Thoughts crowd upon me—and 'twere seemlier now To stop, and yield our gracious Teacher thanks For the pathetic records which his voice Hath here delivered; words of heartfelt truth, 1055 Tending to patience when affliction strikes; To hope and love; to confident repose In God; and reverence for the dust of Man."

THE pensive Sceptic of the lonely vale To those acknowledgments subscribed his own, With a sedate compliance, which the Priest Failed not to notice, inly pleased, and said:— 5 "If ye, by whom invited I began These narratives[730] of calm and humble life, Be satisfied, 'tis well,—the end is gained; And in return for sympathy bestowed And patient listening, thanks accept from me. 10 —Life, death, eternity! momentous themes Are they[731]—and might demand a seraph's tongue, Were they not equal to their own support; And therefore no incompetence of mine Could do them wrong. The universal forms 15 Of human nature, in a spot like this, Present themselves at once to all men's view: Ye wished for act and circumstance, that make The individual known and understood; And such as my best judgment could select 20 From what the place afforded, have been given; Though apprehensions crossed me that my zeal To his might well be likened, who unlocks A cabinet stored with gems and pictures—draws His treasures forth, soliciting regard[732] 25 To this, and this, as worthier than the last, 25 Till the spectator, who awhile was pleased More than the exhibitor himself, becomes Weary and faint, and longs to be released. —But let us hence! my dwelling is in sight, And there—" 30 At this the Solitary shrunk With backward will; but, wanting not address That inward motion to disguise, he said To his Compatriot, smiling as he spake; —"The peaceable remains of this good Knight 35 Would be disturbed, I fear, with wrathful scorn, If consciousness could reach him where he lies That one, albeit of these degenerate times, Deploring changes past, or dreading change Foreseen, had dared to couple, even in thought, 40 The fine vocation of the sword and lance With the gross aims and body-bending toil Of a poor brotherhood who walk the earth Pitied, and, where they are not known, despised. "Yet, by the good Knight's leave, the two estates 45 Are graced with some resemblance. Errant those, Exiles and wanderers—and the like are these; Who, with their burthen, traverse hill and dale, Carrying relief for nature's simple wants. —What though no higher recompense be sought[733] 50 Than honest maintenance, by irksome toil Full oft procured, yet may they[734] claim respect, Among the intelligent, for what this course Enables them to be and to perform. Their tardy steps give leisure to observe, 55 While solitude permits the mind to feel; Instructs, and prompts her[735] to supply defects By the division of her inward self For grateful converse: and to these poor men Nature (I but repeat your favourite boast) 60 Is bountiful—go wheresoe'er they may;[736] Kind nature's various wealth is all their own. Versed in the characters of men; and bound, By ties[737] of daily interest, to maintain Conciliatory manners and smooth speech; 65 Such have been, and still are in their degree, Examples efficacious to refine Rude intercourse; apt agents to expel,[738] By importation of unlooked-for arts, Barbarian torpor, and blind prejudice; 70 Raising, through just gradation, savage life To rustic, and the rustic to urbane. —Within their moving magazines is lodged Power that comes forth to quicken and exalt Affections[739] seated in the mother's breast, 75 And in the lover's fancy; and to feed The sober sympathies of long-tried friends. —By these Itinerants, as experienced men, Counsel is given; contention they appease With gentle language; in remotest wilds,[740] 80 Tears wipe away, and pleasant tidings bring; Could the proud quest of chivalry do more?" "Happy," rejoined the Wanderer, "they who gain A panegyric from your generous tongue! But, if to these Wayfarers once pertained 85 Aught of romantic interest, it is gone.[741] Their purer service, in this realm at least, Is past for ever.—An inventive Age Has wrought, if not with speed of magic, yet To most strange issues. I have lived to mark 90 A new and unforeseen creation rise From out the labours of a peaceful Land Wielding her potent enginery to frame And to produce, with appetite as keen As that of war, which rests not night or day, 95 Industrious to destroy![JR] With fruitless pains Might one like me now visit many a tract Which, in his youth, he trod, and trod again, A lone pedestrian with a scanty freight,[JS] Wished-for, or welcome, wheresoe'er he came— 100 Among the tenantry of thorpe and vill;[JT] Or straggling burgh, of ancient charter proud, And dignified by battlements and towers Of some stern castle, mouldering on the brow Of a green hill or bank of rugged stream.[JU] 105 The foot-path faintly marked, the horse-track wild, And formidable length of plashy lane, (Prized avenues ere others had been shaped Or easier links connecting place with place) Have vanished—swallowed up by stately roads 110 Easy and bold, that penetrate the gloom Of Britain's[742] farthest glens. The Earth has lent Her waters, Air her breezes;[JV] and the sail Of traffic glides with ceaseless intercourse,[743][JW] Glistening along the low and woody dale; 115 Or, in its progress, on the lofty side, Of some bare hill, with wonder kenned from far.[744][JX] "Meanwhile, at social Industry's command, How quick, how vast an increase! From the germ Of some poor hamlet, rapidly produced 120 Here a huge town, continuous and compact, Hiding the face of earth for leagues—and there, Where not a habitation stood before, Abodes[745] of men irregularly massed Like trees in forests,—spread through spacious tracts, 125 O'er which the smoke of unremitting fires Hangs permanent,[JY] and plentiful as wreaths Of vapour glittering in the morning sun. And, wheresoe'er the traveller turns his steps, He sees the barren wilderness erased, 130 Or disappearing; triumph that proclaims How much the mild Directress of the plough Owes to alliance with these new-born arts! —Hence is the wide sea peopled,—hence[746] the shores Of Britain are resorted to by ships 135 Freighted from every climate of the world With the world's choicest produce. Hence that sum Of keels that rest within her crowded ports, Or ride at anchor in her sounds and bays; That animating spectacle of sails 140 That,[747] through her inland regions, to and fro Pass with the respirations of the tide, Perpetual, multitudinous! Finally, Hence a dread arm of floating power, a voice Of thunder daunting those who would approach 145 With hostile purposes the blessed Isle, Truth's consecrated residence, the seat Impregnable of Liberty and Peace. "And yet, O happy Pastor of a flock Faithfully watched, and, by that loving care And Heaven's good providence, preserved from taint! 151 With you I grieve, when on the darker side Of this great change I look; and there behold Such outrage[748] done to nature as compels The indignant power to justify herself; 155 Yea, to avenge her violated rights, For England's bane.—When soothing darkness spreads O'er hill and vale," the Wanderer thus expressed His recollections, "and the punctual stars, While all things else are gathering to their homes, 160 Advance, and in the firmament of heaven Glitter—but undisturbing, undisturbed; As if their silent company were charged With peaceful admonitions for the heart Of all-beholding Man, earth's thoughtful lord; 165 Then, in full many a region, once like this The assured domain of calm simplicity And pensive quiet, an unnatural light Prepared for never-resting Labour's eyes Breaks from a many-windowed fabric huge;[JZ] 170 And at the appointed hour a bell is heard, Of harsher import than the curfew-knoll That spake the Norman Conqueror's stern behest—[KA] A local summons to unceasing toil! Disgorged are now the ministers of day; 175 And, as they issue from the illumined pile, A fresh band meets them, at the crowded door— And in the courts—and where the rumbling stream, That turns the multitude of dizzy wheels,[KB] Glares, like a troubled spirit, in its bed 180 Among the rocks below. Men, maidens, youths, Mother and little children, boys and girls, Enter, and each the wonted task resumes Within this temple, where is offered up To Gain, the master idol of the realm, 185 Perpetual sacrifice. Even thus of old Our ancestors, within the still domain Of vast cathedral or conventual church, Their vigils kept; where tapers day and night On the dim altar burned continually, 190 In token that the House was evermore Watching to God. Religious men were they; Nor would their reason, tutored to aspire Above this transitory world, allow That there should pass a moment of the year,[749] 195 When in their land the Almighty's service ceased. "Triumph who will in these profaner rites Which we, a generation self-extolled, As zealously perform! I cannot share His proud complacency:—yet do I exult,[750] 200 Casting reserve away, exult to see An intellectual mastery exercised O'er the blind elements; a purpose given, A perseverance fed; almost a soul Imparted—to brute matter. I rejoice, 205 Measuring the force of those gigantic powers That,[751] by the thinking mind, have been compelled To serve the will of feeble-bodied Man. For with the sense of admiration blends The animating hope that time may come 210 When, strengthened, yet not dazzled, by the might Of this dominion over nature gained, Men of all lands shall exercise the same In due proportion to their country's need; Learning, though late, that all true glory rests, 215 All praise, all safety, and all happiness, Upon the moral law. Egyptian Thebes, Tyre, by the margin of the sounding waves, Palmyra, central in the desert, fell; And the Arts died by which they had been raised.[KC] 220 —Call Archimedes from his buried tomb Upon the grave[752] of vanished Syracuse,[KD] And feelingly the Sage shall make report How insecure, how baseless in itself, Is the Philosophy whose sway depends 225 On[753] mere material instruments;—how weak Those arts, and high inventions, if unpropped By virtue.—He, sighing with pensive grief,[754] Amid his calm abstractions, would admit That not the slender privilege is theirs 230 To save themselves from blank forgetfulness!" When from the Wanderer's lips these words had fallen, I said, "And, did in truth those vaunted Arts[755] Possess such privilege, how could we escape Sadness and keen regret, we who revere,[756] 235 And would preserve as things above all price, The old domestic morals of the land, Her simple manners, and the stable worth That dignified and cheered a low estate? Oh! where is now the character of peace, 240 Sobriety, and order, and chaste love, And honest dealing, and untainted speech, And pure good-will, and hospitable cheer; That made the very thought of country-life A thought of refuge, for a mind detained 245 Reluctantly amid the bustling crowd? Where now the beauty of the sabbath kept With conscientious reverence, as a day By the almighty Lawgiver pronounced Holy and blest? and where the winning grace 250 Of all the lighter ornaments attached To time and season, as the year rolled round?" "Fled!" was the Wanderer's passionate response, "Fled utterly! or only to be traced In a few fortunate retreats like this; 255 Which I behold with trembling, when I think What lamentable change, a year—a month— May bring; that brook converting as it runs Into an instrument of deadly bane For those, who, yet untempted to forsake 260 The simple occupations of their sires, Drink the pure water of its innocent stream With lip almost as pure.—Domestic bliss (Or call it comfort, by a humbler name,) How art thou blighted for the poor Man's heart! 265 Lo! in such neighbourhood, from morn to eve, The habitations empty! or perchance The Mother left alone,—no helping hand To rock the cradle of her peevish babe; No daughters round her, busy at the wheel, 270 Or in dispatch of each day's little growth Of household occupation; no nice arts Of needle-work; no bustle at the fire, Where once the dinner was prepared with pride; Nothing to speed the day, or cheer the mind; 275 Nothing to praise, to teach, or to command! "The Father, if perchance he still retain His old employments, goes to field or wood, No longer led or followed by the[757] Sons; Idlers perchance they were,—but in his sight; 280 Breathing fresh air, and treading the green earth; 'Till their short holiday of childhood ceased, Ne'er to return! That birthright now is lost. Economists will tell you that the State Thrives by the forfeiture—unfeeling thought, 285 And false as monstrous! Can the mother thrive By the destruction of her innocent sons In whom a premature necessity Blocks out the forms of nature, preconsumes The reason, famishes the heart, shuts up 290 The infant Being in itself, and makes Its very spring a season of decay! The lot is wretched, the condition sad, Whether a pining discontent survive, And thirst for change; or habit hath subdued 295 The soul deprest, dejected—even to love Of her close tasks, and long captivity.[758] Oh, banish far such wisdom as condemns A native Briton to these inward chains, Fixed in his soul, so early and so deep; 300 Without his own consent, or knowledge, fixed! He is a slave to whom release comes not, And cannot come. The boy, where'er he turns, Is still a prisoner; when the wind is up Among the clouds, and roars through the ancient woods;[759] 305 Or when the sun is shining in the east,[760] Quiet and calm. Behold him—in the school Of his attainments? no; but with the air Fanning his temples under heaven's blue arch. His raiment, whitened o'er with cotton-flakes 310 Or locks of wool, announces whence he comes. Creeping his gait and cowering, his lip pale, His respiration quick and audible; And scarcely could you fancy that a gleam Could break from out those languid eyes, or a blush[761] 315 Mantle upon his cheek. Is this the form, Is that the countenance, and such the port, Of no mean Being? One who should be clothed With dignity befitting his proud hope; Who, in his very childhood, should appear 320 Sublime from present purity and joy! The limbs increase; but liberty of mind Is gone for ever; and this organic frame, So joyful in its motions, is become[762] Dull, to the joy of her own motions dead; 325 And even the touch, so exquisitely poured Through the whole body, with a languid will Performs its[763] functions; rarely competent To impress a vivid feeling on the mind Of what there is delightful in the breeze, 330 The gentle visitations of the sun, Or lapse of liquid element—by hand, Or foot, or lip, in summer's warmth—perceived. —Can hope look forward to a manhood raised On such foundations?" "Hope is none for him!" 335 The pale Recluse indignantly exclaimed, "And tens of thousands suffer wrong as deep. Yet be it asked, in justice to our age, If there were not, before those arts appeared, These structures rose, commingling old and young, 340 And unripe sex with sex, for mutual taint; If there were not, then[764] in our far-famed Isle, Multitudes, who from infancy had breathed Air unimprisoned, and had lived at large; Yet walked beneath the sun, in human shape, 345 As abject, as degraded? At this day, Who shall enumerate the crazy huts And tottering hovels, whence do issue forth A ragged Offspring, with their upright hair[765] Crowned like the image of fantastic Fear; 350 Or wearing, (shall we say?)[766] in that white growth An ill-adjusted turban, for defence Or fierceness, wreathed around their sun-burnt brows, By savage Nature? Shrivelled are their lips;[767] Naked, and coloured like the soil, the feet 355 On which they stand; as if thereby they drew Some nourishment, as trees do by their roots, From earth, the common mother of us all. Figure and mien, complexion and attire, Are leagued to strike dismay; but outstretched hand[768] 360 And whining voice denote them supplicants For the least boon that pity can bestow. Such on the breast of darksome heaths are found; And with their parents occupy[769] the skirts Of furze-clad commons; such are born and reared 365 At the mine's mouth under[770] impending rocks; Or dwell in chambers of some natural cave; Or[771] where their ancestors erected huts, For the convenience of unlawful gain, In forest purlieus; and the like are bred, All England through, where nooks and slips of ground 371 Purloined, in times less jealous than our own, From the green margin of the public way, A residence afford them, 'mid the bloom And gaiety of cultivated fields. 375 Such (we will hope the lowest in the scale) Do I remember oft-times to have seen 'Mid Buxton's dreary heights.[KE] In earnest watch,[772] Till the swift vehicle approach, they stand; Then, following closely with the cloud of dust, 380 An uncouth feat exhibit, and are gone Heels over head, like tumblers on a stage. —Up from the ground they snatch the copper coin, And, on the freight of merry passengers Fixing a steady eye, maintain their speed; 385 And spin—and pant—and overhead again, Wild pursuivants! until their breath is lost, Or bounty tires—and every face, that smiled Encouragement, hath ceased to look that way. —But, like the vagrants of the gipsy tribe, 390 These, bred to little pleasure in themselves, Are profitless to others. "Turn we then To Britons born and bred within the pale Of civil polity, and early trained To earn, by wholesome labour in the field, 395 The bread they eat. A sample should I give Of what this stock hath long produced to enrich The tender age of life, ye would exclaim,[773] 'Is this the whistling plough-boy whose shrill notes Impart new gladness to the morning air!' 400 Forgive me if I venture to suspect That many, sweet to hear of in soft verse, Are of no finer frame. Stiff are his joints;[774] Beneath a cumbrous frock, that to the knees Invests the thriving churl, his legs appear, 405 Fellows to those that[775] lustily upheld The wooden stools for everlasting use, Whereon[776] our fathers sate. And mark his brow! Under whose shaggy canopy are set Two eyes—not dim, but of a healthy[777] stare— Wide, sluggish, blank, and ignorant, and strange— 411 Proclaiming boldly that they never drew A look or motion of intelligence From infant-conning of the Christ-cross-row,[KF] Or puzzling through a primer, line by line, 415 Till perfect mastery crown the pains at last. —What kindly warmth from touch of fostering hand, What penetrating power of sun or breeze, Shall e'er dissolve the crust wherein his soul Sleeps, like a caterpillar sheathed in ice? 420 This torpor is no pitiable work Of modern ingenuity; no town Nor crowded city can[778] be taxed with aught Of sottish vice or desperate breach of law, To which (and who can tell where or how soon?) 425 He may be roused. This Boy the fields produce: His spade and hoe, mattock and glittering scythe,[779] The carter's whip that[780] on his shoulder rests In air high-towering with a boorish pomp, The sceptre of his sway; his country's name, 430 Her equal rights, her churches and her schools— What have they done for him? And, let me ask, For tens of thousands uninformed as he? In brief, what liberty of mind[781] is here?" This ardent[782] sally pleased the mild good Man, 435 To whom the appeal couched in its[783] closing words Was pointedly addressed; and to the thoughts That,[784] in assent or opposition, rose Within his mind, he seemed prepared to give Prompt utterance; but the Vicar interposed[785] 440 With invitation urgently[786] renewed. —We followed, taking as he led, a path Along a hedge of hollies dark and tall,[787][KG] Whose flexile boughs low bending with a weight[788] Of leafy spray, concealed the stems and roots 445 That gave them nourishment. When frosty winds Howl from the north, what kindly warmth, methought, Is here—how grateful this impervious screen![789] —Not shaped by simple wearing of the foot On rural business passing to and fro 450 Was the commodious walk: a careful hand Had marked the line, and strewn its[790] surface o'er With pure cerulean gravel,[KH] from the heights Fetched by a[791] neighbouring brook.—Across the vale The stately fence accompanied our steps; 455 And thus the pathway, by perennial green Guarded and graced, seemed fashioned to unite, As by a beautiful yet solemn chain, The Pastor's mansion with the house of prayer. Like image of solemnity, conjoined 460 With feminine allurement soft and fair, The mansion's self displayed;—a reverend pile With bold projections and recesses deep; Shadowy, yet gay and lightsome as it stood Fronting the noontide sun. We paused to admire 465 The pillared porch, elaborately embossed; The low wide windows with their mullions old; The cornice, richly fretted, of grey stone; And that smooth slope from which the dwelling rose, By beds and banks Arcadian of gay flowers 470 And flowering shrubs, protected and adorned: Profusion bright! and every flower assuming A more than natural vividness of hue, From unaffected contrast with the gloom Of sober cypress, and the darker foil 475 Of yew, in which survived some traces, here Not unbecoming, of grotesque device And uncouth fancy. From behind the roof Rose the slim ash and massy sycamore, Blending their diverse foliage with the green 480 Of ivy, flourishing and thick, that clasped The huge round chimneys, harbour of delight For wren and redbreast,—where they sit and sing Their slender ditties when the trees are bare. Nor must I leave untouched (the picture else 485 Were incomplete) a relique of old times[792] Happily spared, a little Gothic niche Of nicest workmanship; that[793] once had held The sculptured image of some patron-saint, Or of the blessed Virgin, looking down 490 On all who entered those religious doors. But lo! where from the cocky garden-mount Crowned by its antique summer-house—descends, Light as the silver fawn, a radiant Girl; For she hath recognised her honoured friend, 495 The Wanderer ever welcome! A prompt kiss The gladsome Child bestows at his request; And, up the flowery lawn as we advance, Hangs on the old Man with a happy look, And with a pretty restless hand of love. 500 —We enter—by the Lady of the place Cordially greeted. Graceful was her port:[794] A lofty stature undepressed by time, Whose visitation had not wholly spared[795] The finer lineaments of form[796] and face; To that complexion brought which prudence trusts in 506 And wisdom loves.—But when a stately ship Sails in smooth weather by the placid coast[KI] On homeward voyage, what—if wind and wave, And hardship undergone in various climes, 510 Have caused her to abate the virgin pride, And that full trim of inexperienced hope With which she left her haven—not for this, Should the sun strike her, and the impartial breeze Play on her streamers, fails she[797] to assume 515 Brightness and touching beauty of her own, That charm all eyes. So bright, so fair, appeared[798] This goodly Matron, shining in the beams Of unexpected pleasure.—Soon the board Was spread, and we partook a plain repast. 520 Here, resting in cool shelter, we beguiled[799] The mid-day hours with desultory talk; From trivial themes to general argument Passing, as accident or fancy led, Or courtesy prescribed. While question rose 525 And answer flowed, the fetters of reserve Dropping from every mind, the Solitary[800] Resumed the manners of his happier days; And[801] in the various conversation bore A willing, nay,[802] at times, a forward part; 530 Yet with the grace of one who in the world Had learned the art of pleasing, and had now Occasion given him to display his skill, Upon the stedfast 'vantage-ground of truth. He gazed, with admiration unsuppressed, 535 Upon the landscape of the sun-bright vale, Seen, from the shady room in which we sate, In softened pérspective; and more than once Praised the consummate harmony serene Of gravity and elegance, diffused 540 Around the mansion and its whole domain; Not, doubtless, without help of female taste And female care.—"A blessed lot is yours!" The words escaped his lip, with a tender sigh Breathed over them: but suddenly the door 545 Flew open, and a pair of lusty Boys[803] Appeared, confusion checking their delight. —Not brothers they in feature or attire, But fond companions, so I guessed, in field, And by the river's margin—whence they come, 550 Keen anglers with unusual spoil elated.[804] One bears a willow-pannier on his back, The boy of plainer garb, whose blush survives More deeply tinged. Twin might the other be To that fair girl who from the garden-mount 555 Bounded:—triumphant entry this for him![805] Between his hands he holds a smooth blue stone, On whose capacious surface see[806] outspread Large store of gleaming crimson-spotted trouts; Ranged side by side, and lessening by degrees[807] 560 Up to the dwarf that tops the pinnacle. Upon the board he lays the sky-blue stone With its rich freight;[808] their number he proclaims; Tells from what pool the noblest had been dragged; And where the very monarch of the brook, 565 After long struggle, had escaped at last— Stealing alternately at them and us (As doth his comrade too) a look of pride: And, verily, the silent creatures made A splendid sight, together thus exposed; 570 Dead—but not sullied or deformed by death, That seemed to pity what he could not spare. But O, the animation in the mien Of those two boys! yea in the very words With which the young narrator was inspired, 575 When, as our questions led, he told at large Of that day's prowess! Him might I compare, His looks,[809] tones, gestures, eager eloquence, To a bold brook that[810] splits for better speed, And at the self-same moment, works its way 580 Through many channels, ever and anon Parted and re-united: his compeer To the still lake, whose stillness is to sight[811] As beautiful—as grateful to the mind. —But to what object shall the lovely Girl 585 Be likened? She whose countenance and air Unite the graceful qualities of both, Even as she shares the pride and joy of both. My grey-haired Friend was moved; his vivid eye Glistened with tenderness; his mind, I knew, 590 Was full; and had, I doubted not, returned, Upon this impulse, to the theme—erewhile Abruptly broken off. The ruddy boys Withdrew, on summons to their well-earned meal;[812] And He—to whom all tongues resigned their rights 595 With willingness, to whom the general ear Listened with readier patience than to strain Of music, lute or harp, a long delight That ceased not when his voice had ceased—as One Who from truth's central point serenely views 600 The compass of his argument—began Mildly, and with a clear and steady tone.

"To every Form of being is assigned," Thus calmly spake the venerable Sage, "An active Principle:—howe'er removed From sense and observation, it subsists 5 In all things, in all natures; in the stars Of azure heaven, the unenduring clouds, In flower and tree, in every pebbly stone That paves the brooks, the stationary rocks, The moving waters, and the invisible air. 10 Whate'er exists hath properties that spread Beyond itself, communicating good, A simple blessing, or with evil mixed; Spirit that knows no insulated spot, No chasm, no solitude; from link to link 15 It circulates, the Soul of all the worlds.[KK] This is the freedom of the universe; Unfolded still the more, more visible, The more we know; and yet is reverenced least, And least respected in the human Mind, 20 Its most apparent home. The food of hope Is meditated action; robbed of this Her sole support, she languishes and dies. We perish also; for we live by hope And by desire; we see by the glad light 25 And breathe the sweet air of futurity; And so we live, or else we have no life. To-morrow—nay perchance this very hour (For every moment hath[818] its own to-morrow!) Those blooming Boys, whose hearts are almost sick 30 With present triumph, will be sure to find A field before them freshened with the dew Of other expectations;—in which course Their happy year spins round. The youth obeys A like glad impulse; and so moves the man 35 'Mid all his apprehensions, cares, and fears,— Or so he ought to move. Ah! why in age Do we revert so fondly to the walks Of childhood—but that there the Soul discerns The dear memorial footsteps unimpaired 40 Of her own native vigour; thence can hear[819] Reverberations; and a choral song, Commingling with the incense that ascends, Undaunted, toward[820] the imperishable heavens, From her own lonely altar? "Do not think 45 That good and wise ever will be allowed,[821] Though strength decay, to breathe in such estate As shall divide them wholly from the stir Of hopeful nature. Rightly it is[822] said That Man descends into the Vale of years; 50 Yet have I thought that we might also speak, And not presumptuously, I trust, of Age, As of a final Eminence; though bare In aspect and forbidding, yet a point On which 'tis not impossible to sit 55 In awful sovereignty; a place of power, A throne, that[823] may be likened unto his, Who, in some placid day of summer, looks Down from a mountain-top,—say one of those High peaks, that bound the vale where now we are.[KL] 60 Faint, and diminished to the gazing eye, Forest and field, and hill and dale appear, With all the shapes over[824] their surface spread: But, while the gross and visible frame of things Relinquishes its hold upon the sense, 65 Yea almost on the Mind herself,[825] and seems All unsubstantialized,—how loud the voice Of waters, with invigorated peal From the full river[KM] in the vale below, Ascending! For on that superior height 70 Who sits, is disencumbered from the press Of near obstructions, and is privileged To breathe in solitude, above the host Of ever-humming insects, 'mid thin air That suits not them. The murmur of the leaves 75 Many and idle, visits[826] not his ear: This he is freed from, and from thousand notes (Not less unceasing, not less vain than these,) By which the finer passages of sense Are occupied; and the Soul, that would incline 80 To listen, is prevented or deterred. "And may it not be hoped, that, placed by age In like removal, tranquil though severe, We are not so removed for utter loss; But for some favour, suited to our need? 85 What more than that the severing should confer[827] Fresh power to commune with the invisible world, And hear the mighty stream of tendency[KN] Uttering, for elevation of our thought, A clear sonorous voice, inaudible 90 To the vast multitude; whose doom it is To run the giddy round of vain delight, Or fret and labour on the Plain below. "But, if to such sublime ascent the hopes Of Man may rise, as to a welcome close 95 And termination of his mortal course; Them only can such hope inspire whose minds Have not been starved by absolute neglect; Nor bodies crushed by unremitting toil; To whom kind Nature, therefore, may afford 100 Proof of the sacred love she bears for all; Whose birthright Reason, therefore, may ensure. For me, consulting what I feel within In times when most existence with herself Is satisfied, I cannot but believe, 105 That, far as kindly Nature hath free scope And Reason's sway predominates; even so far, Country, society, and time itself, That saps the individual's bodily frame, And lays the generations low in dust, 110 Do, by the almighty Ruler's grace, partake Of one maternal spirit, bringing forth And cherishing with ever-constant love, That tires not, nor betrays. Our life is turned Out of her course, wherever man is made 115 An offering, or a sacrifice, a tool Or implement, a passive thing employed As a brute mean, without acknowledgment Of common right or interest in the end; Used or abused, as selfishness may prompt. 120 Say, what can follow for a rational soul Perverted thus, but weakness in all good, And strength in evil? Hence an after-call For chastisement, and custody, and bonds, And oft-times Death, avenger of the past, 125 And the sole guardian in whose hands we dare Entrust the future.—Not for these sad issues Was Man created; but to obey the law Of life, and hope, and action. And 'tis known That when we stand upon our native soil, 130 Unelbowed by such objects as oppress Our active powers, those powers themselves become Strong to subvert our noxious qualities: They sweep distemper from the busy day, And make the chalice of the big round year 135 Run o'er with gladness;[828] whence the Being moves In beauty through the world; and all who see Bless him, rejoicing in his neighbourhood." "Then," said the Solitary, "by what force[829] Of language shall a feeling heart express 140 Her sorrow for that multitude in whom We look for health from seeds that have been sown In sickness, and for increase in a power That works but by extinction? On themselves They cannot lean, nor turn to their own hearts 145 To know what they must do; their wisdom is To look into the eyes of others, thence To be instructed what they must avoid: Or rather, let us say, how least observed, How with most quiet and most silent death, 150 With the least taint and injury to the air The oppressor breathes, their human form divine, And their immortal soul, may waste away." The Sage rejoined, "I thank you—you have spared My voice the utterance of a keen regret, 155 A wide compassion which with you I share. When, heretofore, I placed before your sight A Little-one,[830] subjected to the arts Of modern ingenuity, and made The senseless member of a vast machine, 160 Serving as doth a spindle or a wheel; Think not, that, pitying him, I could forget The rustic Boy, who walks the fields, untaught; The slave of ignorance, and oft of want, And miserable hunger. Much, too much, 165 Of this unhappy lot, in early youth We both have witnessed, lot which I myself Shared, though in mild and merciful degree: Yet was the[831] mind to hinderances exposed, Through which I[832] struggled, not without distress 170 And sometimes injury, like a lamb[833] enthralled 'Mid thorns and brambles; or a bird that breaks Through a strong net, and mounts upon the wind, Though with her plumes impaired. If they, whose souls Should open while they range the richer fields 175 Of merry England, are obstructed less, By indigence, their ignorance is not less, Nor less to be deplored. For who can doubt That tens of thousands at this day exist Such as the boy you painted, lineal heirs 180 Of those who once were vassals of her soil, Following its fortunes like the beasts or trees Which it sustained. But no one takes delight In this oppression; none are proud of it; It bears no sounding name, nor ever bore; 185 A standing grievance, an indigenous vice Of every country under heaven. My thoughts Were turned to evils that are new and chosen, A bondage lurking under shape of good,— Arts, in themselves beneficent and kind, 190 But all too fondly followed and too far;— To victims, which the merciful can see Nor think that they are victims—turned to wrongs, By women, who have children of their own, Beheld without compassion, yea with praise! 195 I spake of mischief by the wise diffused[834] With gladness, thinking that the more it spreads The healthier, the securer, we become; Delusion which a moment may destroy! Lastly I mourned for those whom I had seen 200 Corrupted and cast down, on favoured ground, Where circumstance and nature had combined To shelter innocence, and cherish love; Who, but for this intrusion, would have lived, Possessed of health, and strength, and peace of mind; 205 Thus would have lived, or never have been born! "Alas! what differs more than man from man! And whence that difference? Whence but from himself? For see the universal Race endowed With the same upright form!—The sun is fixed, 210 And the infinite magnificence of heaven Fixed, within reach[835] of every human eye; The sleepless ocean murmurs for all ears; The vernal field infuses fresh delight Into all hearts. Throughout the world of sense, 215 Even as an object is sublime or fair, That object is laid open to the view Without reserve or veil; and as a power Is salutary, or an influence sweet, Are each and all enabled to perceive 220 That power, that influence, by impartial law. Gifts nobler are vouchsafed alike to all; Reason, and, with that reason, smiles and tears; Imagination, freedom in the will; Conscience to guide and check; and death to be 225 Foretasted, immortality conceived By all,—a blissful immortality, To them whose holiness on earth shall make The Spirit capable of heaven, assured.[836] Strange, then, nor less than monstrous, might be deemed 230 The failure, if the Almighty, to this point Liberal[837] and undistinguishing, should hide The excellence of moral qualities From common understanding; leaving truth And virtue, difficult, abstruse, and dark; 235 Hard to be won, and only by a few; Strange, should He deal herein with nice respects, And frustrate all the rest! Believe it not: The primal duties shine aloft—like stars; The charities that soothe, and heal, and bless, 240 Are scattered at the feet of Man—like flowers. The generous inclination, the just rule, Kind wishes, and good actions, and pure thoughts— No mystery is here! Here is no boon For high—yet not for low; for proudly graced— 245 Yet[838] not for meek of heart. The smoke ascends To heaven as lightly from the cottage-hearth As from the haughtiest[839] palace. He, whose soul Ponders this true equality, may walk The fields of earth with gratitude and hope; 250 Yet, in that meditation, will he find Motive to sadder grief, as we have found; Lamenting ancient virtues overthrown, And for the injustice grieving, that hath made So wide a difference between[840] man and man. 255 "Then let us rather fix our gladdened thoughts[841] Upon the brighter scene. How blest that pair Of blooming Boys (whom we beheld even now) Blest in their several and their common lot! A few short hours of each returning day 260 The thriving prisoners of their village-school: And thence let loose, to seek their pleasant homes Or range the grassy lawn in vacancy; To breathe and to be happy, run and shout Idle,—but no delay, no harm, no loss; 265 For every genial power of heaven and earth, Through all the seasons of the changeful year, Obsequiously doth take upon herself To labour for them; bringing each in turn The tribute of enjoyment, knowledge, health, 270 Beauty, or strength! Such privilege is theirs, Granted alike in the outset of their course To both; and, if that partnership must cease, I grieve not," to the Pastor here he turned, "Much as I glory in that child of yours, 275 Repine not for his cottage-comrade, whom Belike no higher destiny awaits Than the old hereditary wish fulfilled; The wish for liberty to live—content With what Heaven grants, and die—in peace of mind, 280 Within the bosom of his native vale. At least, whatever fate the noon of life Reserves for either, sure it is[842] that both Have been permitted to enjoy the dawn; Whether regarded as a jocund time, 285 That in itself may terminate, or lead In course of nature to a sober eve. Both have been fairly dealt with; looking back They will allow that justice has in them Been shown, alike to body and to mind." 290 He paused, as if revolving in his soul Some weighty matter; then, with fervent voice And an impassioned majesty, exclaimed— "O for the coming of that glorious time When, prizing knowledge as her noblest wealth 295 And best protection, this imperial Realm While she exacts allegiance, shall admit An obligation, on her part, to teach Them who are born to serve her and obey; Binding herself by statute[KO] to secure 300 For all the children whom her soil maintains The rudiments of letters, and inform[843] The mind with moral and religious truth, Both understood and practised,—so that none, However destitute, be left to droop 305 By timely culture unsustained; or run Into a wild disorder; or be forced To drudge through a weary life without the help[844] Of intellectual implements and tools; A savage horde among the civilised, 310 A servile band among the lordly free! This sacred right, the lisping babe proclaims[845] To be inherent in him, by Heaven's will, For the protection of his innocence; And the rude boy—who, having overpast 315 The sinless age, by conscience is enrolled, Yet mutinously knits his angry brow, And lifts his wilful hand on mischief bent, Or turns the godlike[846] faculty of speech To impious use—by process indirect 320 Declares his due, while he makes known his need. —This sacred right is fruitlessly announced, This universal plea in vain addressed, To eyes and ears of parents who themselves Did, in the time of their necessity, 325 Urge it in vain; and, therefore, like a prayer That from the humblest floor ascends to heaven, It mounts to reach the State's parental ear; Who, if indeed she own a mother's heart, And be not most unfeelingly devoid 330 Of gratitude to Providence, will grant The unquestionable good—which, England, safe From interference of external force, May grant at leisure; without risk incurred That what in wisdom for herself she doth, 335 Others shall e'er be able to undo. "Look! and behold, from Calpe's sunburnt cliffs[KP] To the flat margin of the Baltic sea, Long-reverenced titles cast away as weeds; Laws overturned; and territory split, 340 Like fields of ice rent by the polar wind, And forced to join in less obnoxious shapes Which,[847] ere they gain consistence, by a gust Of the same breath are shattered and destroyed. Meantime the sovereignty of these fair Isles 345 Remains entire and indivisible: And, if that ignorance were removed, which breeds[848] Within the compass of their several shores Dark discontent, or loud commotion, each Might still preserve[849] the beautiful repose 350 Of heavenly bodies shining in their spheres. —The discipline of slavery is unknown Among[850] us,—hence the more do we require The discipline of virtue; order else Cannot subsist, nor confidence, nor peace. 355 Thus, duties rising out of good possest And prudent caution needful to avert Impending evil, equally require That the whole people should be taught and trained.[851] So shall licentiousness and black resolve 360 Be rooted out, and virtuous habits take Their place; and genuine piety descend, Like[852] an inheritance, from age to age. "With such foundations laid, avaunt the fear Of numbers crowded on their native soil, 365 To the prevention of all healthful growth Through mutual injury! Rather in the law Of increase and the mandate from above Rejoice!—and ye have special cause for joy. —For, as the element of air affords 370 An easy passage to the industrious bees Fraught with their burthens; and a way as smooth For those ordained to take their sounding flight From the thronged hive, and settle where they list In fresh abodes—their labour to renew; 375 So the wide waters, open to the power, The will, the instincts, and appointed needs Of Britain, do invite her to cast off Her swarms, and in succession send them forth; Bound to establish new communities 380 On every shore whose aspect favours hope Or bold adventure; promising to skill And perseverance their deserved reward. "Yes," he continued, kindling as he spake, "Change wide, and deep, and silently performed, 385 This Land shall witness; and as days roll on, Earth's universal frame shall feel the effect; Even till the smallest habitable rock, Beaten by lonely billows, hear the songs Of humanised society; and bloom With civil arts, that shall breathe forth their fragrance,[853] 391 A grateful tribute to all-ruling Heaven. From culture, unexclusively bestowed On Albion's noble Race in freedom born,[854] Expect these mighty issues: from the pains 395 And faithful[855] care of unambitious schools Instructing simple childhood's ready ear: Thence look for these magnificent results! —Vast the circumference of hope—and ye Are at its centre, British Lawgivers; Ah! sleep not there in shame! Shall Wisdom's voice 401 From out the bosom of these troubled times Repeat the dictates of her calmer mind, And shall the venerable halls ye fill Refuse to echo the sublime decree? 405 Trust not to partial care a general good; Transfer not to futurity a work Of urgent need.—Your Country must complete Her glorious destiny. Begin even now, Now, when oppression, like the Egyptian plague 410 Of darkness, stretched o'er guilty Europe,[KQ] makes The brightness more conspicuous that invests The happy Island where ye think and act; Now, when destruction is a prime pursuit, Show to the wretched nations for what end 415 The powers of civil polity were given." Abruptly here, but with a graceful air, The Sage broke off. No sooner had he ceased Than, looking forth, the gentle Lady said, "Behold the shades of afternoon have fallen 420 Upon this flowery slope; and see—beyond— The silvery lake is streaked with placid blue;[856] As if preparing for the peace of evening.[KR] How temptingly the landscape shines! The air Breathes invitation; easy is the walk 425 To the lake's margin, where a boat lies moored Under a[857] sheltering tree."—Upon this hint We rose together: all were pleased; but most The beauteous girl, whose cheek was flushed with joy. Light as a sunbeam glides along the hills 430 She vanished—eager to impart the scheme To her loved brother and his shy compeer. —Now was there bustle in the Vicar's house And earnest preparation.—Forth we went, And down the vale along the streamlet's edge[858] 435 Pursued our way, a broken company, Mute or conversing, single or in pairs. Thus having reached a bridge, that overarched The hasty rivulet where it lay becalmed In a deep pool, by happy chance we saw 440 A two-fold image; on a grassy bank A snow-white ram, and in the crystal flood Another and the same! Most beautiful, On the green turf, with his imperial front Shaggy and bold, and wreathèd horns superb, 445 The breathing creature stood; as beautiful, Beneath him, shewed his shadowy counterpart. Each had his glowing mountains, each his sky, And each seemed centre of his own fair world: Antipodes unconscious of each other, 450 Yet, in partition, with their several spheres, Blended in perfect stillness, to our sight![KS] "Ah! what a pity were it to disperse, Or to disturb, so fair a spectacle, And yet a breath can do it!" These few words 455 The Lady whispered, while we stood and gazed Gathered together, all in still delight, Not without awe. Thence passing on, she said In like low voice to my particular ear, "I love to hear that eloquent old Man 460 Pour forth his meditations, and descant On human life from infancy to age. How pure his spirit! in what vivid hues His mind gives back the various forms of things, Caught in their fairest, happiest, attitude! 465 While he is speaking, I have power to see Even as he sees; but when his voice hath ceased, Then, with a sigh, sometimes I feel,[859] as now, That combinations so serene and bright Cannot be lasting in a world like ours, 470 Whose highest beauty, beautiful as it is, Like that reflected in yon quiet pool, Seems but a fleeting sun-beam's gift, whose peace The sufferance only of a breath of air!"[860] More had she said—but sportive shouts were heard 475 Sent from the jocund hearts of those two Boys, Who, bearing each a basket on his arm, Down the green field came tripping after us. With caution we embarked; and now the pair For prouder service were addrest; but each, 480 Wishful to leave an opening for my choice, Dropped the light oar his eager hand had seized. Thanks given for that becoming courtesy, Their place I took—and for a grateful office[861] Pregnant with recollections of the time 485 When, on thy bosom, spacious Windermere![KT] A Youth, I practised this delightful art; Tossed on the waves alone, or 'mid a crew Of joyous comrades. Soon as the reedy marge Was cleared, I dipped, with arms accordant, oars[862] 490 Free from obstruction; and the boat advanced Through crystal water, smoothly as a hawk, That, disentangled from the shady boughs Of some thick wood, her place of covert, cleaves With correspondent wings the abyss of air. 495 —"Observe," the Vicar said, "yon rocky isle With birch-trees fringed;[KU] my hand shall guide the helm, While thitherward we shape[863] our course; or while We seek that other, on the western shore; Where the bare columns of those lofty firs,[KU] 500 Supporting gracefully a massy dome Of sombre[864] foliage, seem to imitate A Grecian temple rising from the Deep." "Turn where we may," said I, "we cannot err In this delicious region."—Cultured slopes, 505 Wild tracts of forest-ground, and scattered groves, And mountains bare, or clothed with ancient woods, Surrounded us; and, as we held our way Along the level of the glassy flood, They ceased not to surround us; change of place, 510 From kindred features diversely combined, Producing change of beauty ever new.[KV] —Ah! that such beauty, varying in the light Of living nature, cannot be portrayed By words, nor by the pencil's silent skill; 515 But is the property of him alone Who hath beheld it, noted it with care, And in his mind recorded it with love! Suffice it, therefore, if the rural Muse Vouchsafe sweet influence, while her Poet speaks 520 Of trivial occupations well devised, And unsought pleasures springing up by chance; As if some friendly Genius had ordained That, as the day thus far had been enriched By acquisition of sincere delight, 525 The same should be continued to its close. One spirit animating old and young, A gipsy-fire we kindled on the shore Of the fair Isle with birch-trees fringed—and there, Merrily seated in a ring, partook 530 A choice repast—served by our young companions[865] With rival earnestness and kindred glee.[866] Launched from our hands the smooth stone skimmed the lake; With shouts we raised[867] the echoes;—stiller sounds The lovely Girl supplied—a simple song, 535 Whose low tones reached not to the distant rocks To be repeated thence,[868] but gently sank Into our hearts; and charmed the peaceful flood. Rapaciously we gathered flowery spoils From land and water; lilies of each hue— 540 Golden and white, that float upon the waves, And court the wind; and leaves of that shy plant, (Her flowers were shed) the lily of the vale,[KW] That loves the ground, and from the sun withholds Her pensive beauty; from the breeze her sweets. 545 Such product, and such pastime, did the place And season yield; but, as we re-embarked, Leaving, in quest of other scenes, the shore Of that wild spot, the Solitary said In a low voice, yet careless who might hear, 550 "The fire, that burned so brightly to our wish, Where is it now?—Deserted on the beach— Dying, or dead![869] Nor shall the fanning breeze Revive its ashes. What care we for this, Whose ends are gained? Behold an emblem here 555 Of one day's pleasure, and all mortal joys! And, in this unpremeditated slight Of that which is no longer needed, see The common course of human gratitude!" This plaintive note disturbed not the repose 560 Of the still evening. Right across the lake Our pinnace moves; then, coasting creek and bay, Glades we behold, and into thickets peep, Where couch the spotted deer;[KX] or raised our eyes To shaggy steeps on which the careless goat 565 Browsed by the side of dashing waterfalls;[KY] And thus the bark, meandering with the shore, Pursued her voyage, till a natural pier Of jutting rock invited us to land.[870] Alert to follow as the Pastor led, 570 We clomb a green hill's side;[KZ] and, as we clomb, The Valley, opening out her bosom, gave Fair prospect, intercepted less and less,[871] O'er[872] the flat meadows and indented coast Of the smooth lake,[873] in compass seen:—far off, 575 And yet conspicuous, stood the old Church-tower,[LA] In majesty presiding over fields And habitations seemingly preserved[874] From all intrusion of the restless world[875] By rocks impassable and mountains huge. 580 Soft heath this elevated spot supplied, And choice of moss-clad stones, whereon we couched Or sate reclined; admiring quietly The general aspect of the scene; but each Not seldom over anxious to make known[876] 585 His own discoveries; or to favourite points Directing notice, merely from a wish To impart a joy, imperfect while unshared. That rapturous moment never[877] shall I forget When these particular interests were effaced 590 From every mind!—Already had the sun, Sinking with less than ordinary state, Attained his western bound; but rays of light— Now suddenly diverging from the orb Retired behind the mountain tops or veiled 595 By the dense air—shot upwards to the crown Of the blue firmament—aloft, and wide: And multitudes of little floating clouds, Through their ethereal texture pierced—ere we, Who saw, of change were conscious—had become[878] 600 Vivid as fire; clouds separately poised,— Innumerable multitude of forms Scattered through half the circle of the sky; And giving back, and shedding each on each, With prodigal communion, the bright hues 605 Which from the unapparent fount of glory They had imbibed, and ceased not to receive. That which the heavens displayed, the liquid deep Repeated; but with unity sublime! While from the grassy mountain's open side[LB] 610 We gazed, in silence hushed, with eyes intent On the refulgent spectacle, diffused Through earth, sky, water, and all visible space, The Priest in holy transport thus exclaimed: "Eternal Spirit! universal God! 615 Power inaccessible to human thought, Save by degrees and steps which thou hast deigned To furnish; for this effluence of thyself,[879] To the infirmity of mortal sense Vouchsafed; this local transitory type 620 Of thy paternal splendours, and the pomp Of those who fill thy courts in highest heaven, The radiant Cherubim;—accept the thanks Which we, thy humble Creatures, here convened, Presume to offer; we, who—from the breast 625 Of the frail earth, permitted to behold The faint reflections only of thy face— Are yet exalted, and in soul adore! Such as they are who in thy presence stand Unsullied, incorruptible, and drink 630 Imperishable majesty streamed forth From thy empyreal throne, the elect of earth Shall be—divested at the appointed hour Of all dishonour, cleansed from mortal stain. —Accomplish, then, their number; and conclude 635 Time's weary course! Or if, by thy decree, The consummation that will come by stealth Be yet far distant, let thy Word prevail, Oh! let thy Word prevail, to take away The sting of human nature. Spread the law, 640 As it is written in thy holy book, Throughout all lands: let every nation hear The high behest, and every heart obey; Both for the love of purity, and hope Which it affords, to such as do thy will 645 And persevere in good, that they shall rise, To have a nearer view of thee, in heaven. —Father of good! this prayer in bounty grant, In mercy grant it, to thy wretched sons. Then, nor till then, shall persecution cease, 650 And cruel wars expire. The way is marked, The guide appointed, and the ransom paid. Alas! the nations, who of yore received These tidings, and in Christian temples meet The sacred truth to acknowledge, linger still; 655 Preferring bonds and darkness to a state Of holy freedom, by redeeming love Proffered to all, while yet on earth detained. "So fare the many; and the thoughtful few, Who in the anguish of their souls bewail 660 This dire perverseness, cannot choose but ask, Shall it endure?—Shall enmity and strife, Falsehood and guile, be left to sow their seed; And the kind never perish? Is the hope Fallacious, or shall righteousness obtain 665 A peaceable dominion, wide as earth, And ne'er to fail? Shall that blest day arrive When they, whose choice or lot it is to dwell In crowded cities, without fear shall live Studious of mutual benefit; and he, 670 Whom Morn awakens, among dews and flowers[880] Of every clime, to till the lonely field, Be happy in himself? The law of faith Working through love, such conquest shall it gain, Such triumph over sin and guilt achieve? 675 Almighty Lord, thy further grace impart! And with that help the wonder shall be seen Fulfilled, the hope accomplished; and thy praise Be sung with transport and unceasing joy. "Once," and with mild demeanour, as he spake, 680 On us the venerable Pastor turned His beaming eye that had been raised[881] to Heaven, "Once,[882] while the Name, Jehovah, was a sound Within the circuit of this sea-girt isle Unheard, the savage nations bowed the head[883] 685 To Gods delighting in remorseless deeds; Gods which themselves had fashioned, to promote Ill purposes, and flatter foul desires. Then, in the bosom of yon mountain-cove,[LC] To those inventions of corrupted man 690 Mysterious rites were solemnised; and there— Amid impending rocks and gloomy woods— Of those terrific Idols some received[884] Such dismal service, that the loudest voice Of the swoln cataracts (which now are heard 695 Soft murmuring) was too weak to overcome, Though aided by wild winds, the groans and shrieks Of human victims, offered up to appease Or to propitiate. And, if living eyes Had visionary faculties to see 700 The thing that hath been as the thing that is, Aghast we might behold this crystal[885] Mere Bedimmed with smoke, in wreaths voluminous, Flung from the body of devouring fires, To Taranis erected[LD] on the heights 705 By priestly hands, for sacrifice performed Exultingly, in view of open day And full assemblage of a barbarous host; Or to Andates, female Power[LE] who gave (For so they fancied) glorious victory. 710 —A few rude monuments of mountain-stone Survive; all else is swept away.—How bright The appearances of things! From such, how changed The existing worship; and with those compared, The worshippers how innocent and blest! 715 So wide the difference, a willing mind Might almost think, at this affecting hour,[886] That paradise, the lost abode of man, Was raised again: and to a happy few, In its original beauty, here restored. 720 "Whence but from thee, the true and only God, And from the faith derived through Him who bled Upon the cross, this marvellous advance Of good from evil; as if one extreme Were left, the other gained.—O ye, who come 725 To kneel devoutly in yon reverend Pile,[LF] Called to such office by the peaceful sound Of sabbath bells; and ye, who sleep in earth, All cares forgotten, round its hallowed walls! For you, in presence of this little band 730 Gathered together on the green hill-side, Your Pastor is emboldened to prefer Vocal thanksgivings to the eternal King; Whose love, whose counsel, whose commands, have made Your very poorest rich in peace of thought 735 And in good works; and him, who is endowed With scantiest knowledge, master of all truth Which the salvation of his soul requires. Conscious of that abundant favour showered On you, the children of my humble care, 740 And this dear land, our country, while on earth We sojourn, have I lifted up my soul, Joy giving voice to fervent gratitude.[887] These barren rocks, your stern inheritance; These fertile fields, that recompense your pains; 745 The shadowy vale, the sunny mountain-top; Woods waving in the wind their lofty heads, Or hushed; the roaring waters, and[888] the still— They see the offering of my lifted hands, They hear my lips present their sacrifice, 750 They know if I be silent, morn or even:[LG] For, though in whispers speaking, the full heart Will find a vent; and thought is praise to him, Audible praise, to thee, omniscient Mind, From whom all gifts descend, all blessings flow!" 755 This vesper-service closed, without delay, From that exalted station to the plain Descending, we pursued our homeward course, In mute composure, o'er the shadowy lake, Under[889] a faded sky. No trace remained 760 Of those celestial splendours; grey the vault— Pure, cloudless, ether; and the star of eve Was wanting; but inferior lights appeared Faintly, too faint almost for sight; and some Above the darkened hills stood boldly forth 765 In twinkling lustre, ere the boat attained Her mooring-place; where, to the sheltering tree, Our youthful Voyagers bound fast her prow, With prompt yet careful hands. This done, we paced The dewy fields; but ere the Vicar's door 770 Was reached, the Solitary checked his steps; Then, intermingling thanks, on each bestowed A farewell salutation; and, the like Receiving, took the slender path that leads To the one cottage in the lonely dell:[LH] 775 But turned not without welcome promise made[890] That he would share the pleasures and pursuits Of yet another summer's day,[LI] not loth To wander with us through the fertile vales,[891] And o'er the mountain-wastes. "Another sun," 780 Said he, "shall shine upon us, ere we part; Another sun, and peradventure more; If time, with free consent, be yours[892] to give, And season favours." To enfeebled Power, From this communion with uninjured Minds, 785 What renovation had been brought; and what Degree of healing to a wounded spirit, Dejected, and habitually disposed To seek, in degradation of the Kind, Excuse and solace for her own defects; 790 How far those erring notions were reformed; And whether aught, of tendency as good And pure, from further intercourse ensued; This—if delightful hopes, as heretofore, Inspire the serious song, and gentle Hearts 795 Cherish, and lofty Minds approve the past— My future labours may not leave untold.