Of mortal power unquestionably sprung) Whose hoary diadem of pendent rocks
"If, such as now he is, he might remain ! Ah! what avails imagination high
Confines the shrill-voiced whirlwind, round and Or question deep? what profits all that earth,
Eddying within its vast circumference,
On Sarum's naked plain; than pyramid
Of Egypt, unsubverted, undissolved;
Or Syria's marble ruins towering high
Above the sandy desert, in the light
Of sun or moon,-forgive me, if I say
Or heaven's blue vault, is suffer'd to put forth
Of impulse or allurement, for the soul
To quit the beaten track of life, and soar
Far as she finds a yielding element
In past or future; far as she can go
Through time or space; if neither in the one, Nor in the other region, nor in aught
That an appearance which hath raised your minds That fancy, dreaming o'er the map of things,
To an exalted pitch (the self-same cause Different effect producing) is for me Fraught rather with depression than delight, Though shame it were, could I not look around, By the reflection of your pleasure, pleased. Yet happier in my judgment, e'en than you With your bright transports fairly may be deem'd, The wandering herbalist,-who, clear alike From vain, and, that worse evil, vexing thoughts, Casts, if he ever chance to enter here, Upon these uncouth forms a slight regard Of transitory interest, and peeps round For some rare floweret of the hills, or plant Of craggy fountain; what he hopes for wins, Or learns, at least, that 'tis not to be won: Then, keen and eager, as a fine-nosed hound By soul-engrossing instinct driven along Through wood or open field, the harmless man Departs, intent upon his onward quest! Nor is that fellow wanderer, so deem I, Less to be envied, (you may trace him oft By scars which his activity has left
Hath placed beyond these penetrable bounds, Words of assurance can be heard; if nowhere A habitation, for consummate good,
Nor for progressive virtue, by the search Can be attain'd,-a better sanctuary From doubt and sorrow, than the senseless grave?” "Is this," the gray-hair'd wanderer mildly said, "The voice, which we so lately overheard, To that same child addressing tenderly The consolations of a hopeful mind?
His body is at rest, his soul in heaven.' These were your words; and, verily, methinks Wisdom is ofttimes nearer when we stoop Than when we soar."
The other, not displeased, Promptly replied-" My notion is the same. And I, without reluctance, could decline
All act of inquisition whence we rise,
And what, when breath hath ceased, we may be
Here are we, in a bright and breathing world— Our origin, what matters it? In lack
Beside our roads and pathways, though, thank Hea- Of worthier explanation, say at once
This covert nook reports not of his hand,) He who with pocket hammer smites the edge Of luckless rock or prominent stone, disguised In weather stains or crusted o'er by nature With her first growths-detaching by the stroke A chip or splinter-to resolve his doubts; And, with that ready answer satisfied,
The substance classes by some barbarous name, And hurries on; or from the fragments picks His specimen, if haply intervein'd With sparkling mineral, or should crystal cube Lurk in its cells-and thinks himself enrich'd, Wealthier, and doubtless wiser, than before! Intrusted safely each to his pursuit, Earnest alike, let both from hill to hill
Range; if it please them, speed from clime to clime; The mind is full-no pain is in their sport." "Then," said I, interposing, "one is near, Who cannot but possess in your esteem Place worthier still of envy. May I name, Without offence, that fair-faced cottage boy? Dame nature's pupil of the lowest form, Youngest apprentice in the school of art! Hm, as we enter'd from the open glen, You might have noticed busily engaged, Heart, soul, and hands,―in mending the defects Left in the fabric of a leaky dam Raised for enabling this penurious stream To turn a slender mill (that new-made plaything) For his delight-the happiest he of all!"
"Far happiest," answer'd the desponding man,
With the American (a thought which suits The place where now we stand) that certain men Leapt out together from a rocky cave;
And these were the first parents of mankind: Or, if a different image be recall'd
By the warm sunshine, and the jocund voice Of insects-chirping out their careless lives On these soft beds of thyme-besprinkled turf, Choose, with the gay Athenian, a conceit
As sound-blithe race! whose mantles were be- deck'd
With golden grasshoppers, in sign that they Had sprung, like those bright creatures, from the soil
Whereon their endless generations dwelt. But stop these theoretic fancies jar On serious minds: then, as the Hindoos draw Their holy Ganges from a skyey fount, E'en so deduce the stream of human life From seats of power divine; and hope, or trust, That our existence winds her stately course Beneath the sun, like Ganges, to make part Of a living ocean; or, to sink ingulf'd, Like Niger in impenetrable sands And utter darkness: thought which may be faced, Though comfortless! Not of myself I speak Such acquiescence neither doth imply, In me, a meekly bending spirit-sooth'd By natural piety; nor a lofty mind, By philosophic discipline prepared For calm subjection to acknowledged law; Pleased to have been, contented not to be.
Such palms I boast not; no! to me, who find, Reviewing my past way, much to condemn, Little to praise, and nothing to regret, (Save some remembrances of dream-like joys That scarcely seem to have belong'd to me,) If I must take my choice between the pair That rule alternately the weary hours, Night is than day more acceptable; sleep Doth, in my estimate of good, appear
A better state than waking; death than sleep: Feelingly sweet is stillness after storm, Though under covert of the wormy ground! "Yet be it said, in justice to myself, That in more genial times, when I was free To explore the destiny of human kind, (Not as an intellectual game pursued With curious subtilty, from wish to cheat Irksome sensations; but by love of truth Urged on, or haply by intense delight
In feeding thought, wherever thought could feed,) I did not rank with those (too dull or nice, For to my judgment such they then appear'd, Or too aspiring, thankless at the best) Who, in this frame of human life, perceive An object whereunto their souls are tied In discontented wedlock; nor did e'er,
In framing models to improve the scheme Of man's existence, and recast the world, Why should not grave philosophy be styled Herself, a dreamer of a kindred stock, A dreamer yet more spiritless and dull? Yes, shall the fine immunities she boasts Establish sounder titles of esteem
For her, who (all too timid and reserved For onset, for resistance too inert, Too weak for suffering, and for hope too tame) Placed among flowery gardens, curtain'd round With world-excluding groves, the brotherhood Of soft epicureans, taught-if they
The ends of being would secure, and win The crown of wisdom-to yield up their souls To a voluptuous unconcern, preferring Tranquillity to all things.
I cried, "more worthy of regard, the power, Who, for the sake of sterner quiet, closed The stoic's heart against the vain approach Of admiration, and all sense of joy ?"
His countenance gave notice that my zeal Accorded little with his present mind;
I ceased, and he resumed. "Ah! gentle sir, Slight, if you will, the means: but spare to slight The end of those, who did, by system, rank,
From me, those dark, impervious shades, that hang As the prime object of a wise man's aim,
Upon the region whither we are bound, Exclude a power to enjoy the vital beams, Of present sunshine. Deities that float
On wings, angelic spirits, I could muse
O'er what from eldest time we have been told Of your bright forms and glorious faculties, And with the imagination be content. Not wishing more; repining not to tread The little sinuous path of earthly care, By flowers embellish'd, and by springs refresh'd. 'Blow winds of autumn!-let your chilling breath Take the live herbage from the mead, and strip The shady forest of its green attire,- And let the bursting clouds to fury rouse The gentle brooks! Your desolating sway,' Thus I exclaim'd, 'no sadness sheds on me, And no disorder in your rage I find. What dignity, what beauty, in this change From mild to angry, and from sad to gay, Alternate and revolving! How benign, How rich in animation and delight, How bountiful these elements-compared With aught, as more desirable and fair Devised by fancy for the golden age; Or the perpetual warbling that prevails In Arcady, beneath unalter'd skies, Through the long year in constant quiet bound, Night hush'd as night, and day serene as day! But why this tedious record? Age, we know, Is garrulous; and solitude is apt T'anticipate the privilege of age. From far ye come; and surely with a hope Of better entertainment-let us hence!"
Loath to forsake the spot, and still more loath To be diverted from our present theme, I said, "My thoughts agreeing, sir, with yours, Would push this censure farther; for, if smiles Of scornful pity be the just reward Of poesy, thus courteously employ'd
Security from shock of accident,
Release from fear; and cherish'd peaceful days For their own sakes, as mortal life's chief good, And only reasonable felicity.
What motive drew, what impulse, I would ask, Through a long course of later ages, drove The hermit to his cell in forest wide; Or what detain'd him, till his closing eyes Took their last farewell of the sun and stars, Fast anchor'd in the desert? Not alone Dread of the persecuting sword-remorse. Wrongs unredress'd, or insults unavenged And unavengeable, defeated pride, Prosperity subverted, maddening want, Friendship betray'd, affection unreturn'd, Love with despair, or grief in agony; Not always from intolerable pangs
He fled; but, compass'd round by pleasure, sigh'd For independent happiness: craving peace, The central feeling of all happiness, Not as a refuge from distress or pain,
A breathing-time, vacation, or a truce, But for its absolute self; a life of peace, Stability without regret or fear;
That hath been, is, and shall be evermore ! Such the reward he sought; and wore out life, There, where on few external things his heart Was set, and those his own; or, if not his, Subsisting under nature's steadfast law.
"What other yearning was the master tie Of the monastic brotherhood, upon rock Aërial, or in green secluded vale, One after one, collected from afar An undissolving fellowship?-What but this, The universal instinct of repose, The longing for confirm'd tranquillity, Inward and outward; humble, yet sublime : The life where hope and memory are as one Earth quiet and unchanged; the human soul
Consistent in self-rule; and heaven reveal'd To meditation in that quietness!
Such was their scheme:-thrice happy he who gain'd The end proposed! And,-though the same were miss'd
By multitudes, perhaps obtain❜d by none,- They, for the attempt, and for the pains employ'd, Do, in my present censure, stand redeem'd From the unqualified disdain, that once Would have been cast upon them, by my voice Delivering her decisions from the seat Of forward youth: that scruples not to solve Doubts, and determine questions, by the rules Of inexperienced judgment, ever prone To overweening faith; and is inflamed, By courage, to demand from real life The test of act and suffering-to provoke Hostility, how dreadful when it comes, Whether affliction be the foe, or guilt!
"A child of earth, I rested, in that stage
Of my past course to which these thoughts advert, Upon earth's native energies; forgetting That mine was a condition which required Nor energy, nor fortitude-a calm Without vicissitude; which, if the like Had been presented to my view elsewhere, I might have e'en been tempted to despise. But that which was serene was also bright; Enliven❜d happiness with joy o'erflowing, With joy, and-O! that memory should survive To speak the word-with rapture! Nature's boon, Life's genuine inspiration, happiness Above what rules can teach, or fancy feign; Abused, as all possessions are abused That are not prized according to their worth. And yet, what worth? what good is given to men, More solid than the gilded clouds of heaven? What joy more lasting than a vernal flower? None! 'tis the general plaint of human kind In solitude, and mutually address'd
From each to all, for wisdom's sake. This truth
The priest announces from his holy seat:
With dark events. Desirous to divert Or stem the current of the speaker's thoughts, We signified a wish to leave that place Of stillness and close privacy, a nook That seem'd for self-examination made, Or, for confession, in the sinner's need, Hidden from all men's view. To our attempt He yielded not; but pointing to a slope Of mossy turf defended from the sun, And, on that couch inviting us to rest, Full on that tender-hearted man he turn'd A serious eye, and thus his speech renew'd.
"You never saw, your eyes did never look On the bright form of her whom once I loved : Her silver voice was heard upon the earth, A sound unknown to you; else, honour'd friend! Your heart had borne a pitiable share
Of what I suffer'd, when I wept that loss, And suffer now, not seldom, from the thought That I remember, and can weep no more. Stripp'd as I am of all the golden fruit Of self-esteem; and by the cutting blasts Of self-reproach familiarly assail'd;
I would not yet be of such wintry bareness But that some leaf of your regard should hang Upon my naked branches; lively thoughts Give birth, full often, to unguarded words.
I grieve that, in your presence, from my tongue Too much of frailty hath already dropp'd; But that too much demands still more.
Revered compatriot; and to you, kind sir, (Not to be deem'd a stranger, as you come Following the guidance of these welcome feet To our secluded vale,) it may be told, That my demerits did not sue in vain To one on whose mild radiance many gazed With hope, and all with pleasure. This fair b.ide, In the devotedness of youthful love, Preferring me to parents, and the choir
Of gay companions, to the natal roof, And all known places and familiar sights,
And, crown'd with garlands in the summer grove, (Resign'd with sadness gently weighing down
The poet fits it to his pensive lyre. Yet, ere that final resting place be gain'd, Sharp contradictions may arise by doom Of this same life, compelling us to grieve That the prosperities of love and joy Should be permitted, ofttimes, to endure So long, and be at once cast down for ever. O tremble, ye, to whom hath been assign'd A course of days composing happy months, And they as happy years; the present still So like the past, and both so firm a pledge Of a congenial future, that the wheels Of pleasure move without the aid of hope: For mutability is nature's bane;
And slighted hope will be avenged: and, when Ye need her favours, ye shall find her not; But in her stead-fear-doubt-and agony !" This was the bitter language of the heart: But, while he spake, look, gesture, tone of voice, Though discomposed and vehement, were such As skill and graceful nature might suggest To a proficient of the tragic scene Standing before the multitude, beset
Her trembling expectations, but no more Than did to her due honour, and to me Yielded, that day, a confidence sublime In what I had to build upon,) this bride, Young, modest, meek, and beautiful, I led To a low cottage in a sunny bay, Where the salt sea innoculously breaks, And the sea breeze as innocently breathes, On Devon's leafy shores; a shelter'd hold, In a soft clime encouraging the soil
To a luxuriant bounty! As our steps Approach the embower'd abode-our chosen seat- See, rooted in the earth, her kindly bed, The unendanger'd myrtle, deck'd with flowers, Before the threshold stands to welcome us While in the flowering myrtle's neighbourhood, Not overlook'd but courting no regard, Those native plants, the holly and the yew, Gave modest intimation to the mind How willingly their aid they would unite With the green myrtle, to endear the hours Of winter, and protect that pleasant place. Wild were the walks upon those lonely downs
Track leading into track, how mark'd, how worn Into bright verdure, between fern and gorse Winding away its never-ending line
On their smooth surface, evidence was none: But, there, lay open to our daily haunt, A range of unappropriated earth,
Where youth's ambitious feet might move at large; Whence, unmolested wanderers, we beheld The shining giver of the day diffuse
His brightness o'er a tract of sea and land Gay as our spirits, free as our desires,
As our enjoyments, boundless. From those heights We dropp'd, at pleasure, into sylvan combs; Where arbours of impenetrable shade, And mossy seats, detain'd us side by side, With hearts at ease, and knowledge in our hearts 'That all the grove and all the day was ours,' "But nature call'd my partner to resign Her share in the pure freedom of that life, Enjoy'd by us in common. To my hope, To my heart's wish, my tender mate became The thankful captive of maternal bonds; And those wild paths were left to me alone. There could I meditate on follies past; And, like a weary voyager escaped From risk and hardship, inwardly retrace A course of vain delights and thoughtless guilt, And self-indulgence-without shame pursued. There, undisturb'd, could think of, and could thank Her-whose submissive spirit was to me Rule and restraint-my guardian-shall I say That earthly providence, whose guiding love Within a port of rest had lodged me safe; Safe from temptation, and from danger far? Strains follow'd of acknowledgment address'd To an Authority enthroned above
On these two pillars rested as in air Our solitude.
"It soothes me to perceive,
Your courtesy withholds not from my words Attentive audience. But, O! gentle friends, As times of quiet and unbroken peace, Though, for a nation, times of blessedness, Give back faint echoes from the historian's page! So, in th' imperfect sounds of this discourse, Depress'd I hear, how faithless is the voice Which those most blissful days reverberate. What special record can, or need, be given To rules and habits, whereby much was done, But all within the sphere of little things, Of humble, though, to us, important cares, And precious interests? Smoothly did our life Advance, not swerving from the path prescribed: Her annual, her diurnal round alike Maintain'd with faithful care. And you divine The worst effects that our condition saw If you imagine changes slowly wrought, And in their progress imperceptible; Not wish'd for, sometimes noticed with a sigh, (Whate'er of good or lovely they might bring,) Sighs of regret, for the familiar good, And loveliness endear'd-which they removed. "Seven years of occupation undisturb'd Establish'd seemingly a right to hold That happiness: and use and habit gave To what an alien spirit had acquired A patrimonial sanctity. And thus, With thoughts and wishes bounded to this world, I lived and breathed; most grateful, if t' enjoy Without repining or desire for more,
For different lot, or change to higher sphere (Only except some impulses of pride
The reach of sight: from whom, as from their With no determined object, though upheld
Proceed all visible ministers of good
That walk the earth-Father of heaven and earth, Father, and King, and Judge, adored and fear'd! These acts of mind, and memory, and heart, And spirit-interrupted and relieved By observations transient as the glance Of flying sunbeams, or to the outward form Clearing with power inherent and intense, As the mute insect fix'd upon the plant
On whose soft leaves it hangs, and from whose
Draws imperceptibly its nourishment- Endear'd my wanderings; and the mother's kiss And infant's smile awaited my return.
"In privacy we dwelt-a wedded pair- Companions daily, often all day long: Not placed by fortune within easy reach Of various intercourse, nor wishing aught Beyond the allowance of our own fireside, The twain within our happy cottage born, Inmates, and heirs of our united love; Graced mutually by difference of sex, By the endearing names of nature bound, And with no wider interval of time
Between their several births than served for one
To establish something of a leader's sway; Yet left them join'd by sympathy in age; Equals in pleasure, fellows in pursuit.
By theories with suitable support) Most grateful, if in such wise to enjoy Be proof of gratitude for what we have; Else, I allow, most thankless. But, at once, From some dark seat of fatal power was urged A claim that shatter'd all. Our blooming girl, Caught in the gripe of death, with such grief time To struggle in as scarcely would allow
Her cheek to change its colour, was convey'd From us to regions inaccessible; Where height or depth, admits not the approach Of living man, though longing to pursue. With e'en as brief a warning-and how soon, With what short interval of time between, I tremble yet to think of our last prop, Our happy life's only remaining stay- The brother follow'd; and was seen no more! "Calm as a frozen lake when ruthless winds Blow fiercely, agitating earth and sky, The mother now remain'd; as if in her, Who to the lowest region of the soul, Had been erewhile unsettled and disturb'd, This second visitation had no power To shake; but only to bind up and seal; And to establish thankfulness of heart In Heaven's determinations, ever just. The eminence on which her spirit stood, Mine was unable to attain. Immense The space that sever'd us! But, as the sight
Communicates with heaven's ethereal orbs Incalculably distant; so, I felt
That consolation may descend from far (And that is intercourse and union, too,) While, overcome with speechless gratitude, And with a holier love inspired, I look'd On her at once superior to my woes And partner of my loss. O heavy change! Dimness o'er this clear luminary crept Insensibly; th' immortal and divine Yielded to mortal reflux; her pure glory, As from the pinnacle of worldly state Wretched ambition drops astounded, fell Into a gulf obscure of silent grief,
And keen heart anguish-of itself ashamed, Yet obstinately cherishing itself; And, so consumed, she melted from my arms, And left me, on this earth, disconsolate.
"What follow'd cannot be review'd in thought; Much less, retraced in words. If she, of life Blameless, so intimate with love and joy And all the tender motions of the soul, Had been supplanted, could I hope to stand- Infirm, dependent, and now destitute?
I call'd on dreams and visions, to disclose
My melancholy voice the chorus join'd; 'Be joyful all ye nations, in all lands, Ye that are capable of joy be glad! Henceforth, whate'er is wanting to yourselves In others ye shall promptly find; and all Enrich'd by mutual and reflected wealth, Shall with one heart honour their common kind. "Thus was I reconverted to the world; Society became my glittering bride, And airy hopes my children. From the depths Of natural passion, seemingly escaped, My soul diffused herself in wide embrace Of institutions, and the forms of things; As they exist in mutable array,
Upon life's surface. What, though in my veins There flow'd no Gallic blood, nor had I breathed The air of France, not less than Gallic zeal Kindled and burnt among the sapless twigs Of my exhausted heart. If busy men In sober conclave met, to weave a web Of amity, whose living threads should stretch Beyond the seas, and to the farthest pole, There did I sit, assisting. If, with noise And acclamations, crowds in open air
Express'd the tumult of their minds, my voice
That which is veil'd from waking thought; con- There mingled, heard or not. The powers of song
Eternity, as men constrain a ghost
T' appear and answer; to the grave I spake Imploringly; look'd up, and ask'd the heavens
If angels traversed their cerulean floors, If fix'd or wandering star could tidings yield Of the departed spirit-what abode It occupies-what consciousness retains
Of former loves and interests. Then my soul Turn'd inward, to examine of what stuff Time's fetters are composed; and life was put To inquisition, long and profitless!
By pain of heart, now check'd, and now impell'd- Th' intellectual power, through words and things, Went sounding on, a dim and perilous way! And from those transports, and these toils abstruse, Some trace am I enabled to retain Of time, else lost; existing unto me
Only by records in myself not found.
I left not uninvoked; and, in still groves, Where mild enthusiasts tuned a pensive lay Of thanks and expectation, in accord With their belief, I sang saturnian rule Return'd, a progeny of golden years Permitted to descend, and bless mankind. With promises the Hebrew Scriptures teem: I felt the invitation; and resumed A long suspended office in the house Of public worship, where, the glowing phrase Of ancient inspiration serving me,
I promised also,-with undaunted trust Foretold, and added prayer to prophecy; The admiration winning of the crowd; The help desiring of the pure devout. "Scorn and contempt forbid me to proceed! But history, time's slavish scribe, will tell How rapidly the zealots of the cause Disbanded, or in hostile ranks appear'd:
"From that abstraction I was roused, and how? Some, tired of honest service; these, outdone,
E'en as a thoughtful shepherd by a flash Of lightning startled in a gloomy cave
Of these wild hills. For, lo! the dread Bastile, With all the chambers in its horrid towers, Fell to the ground: by violence o'erthrown Of indignation; and with shouts that drown'd The crash it made in falling! From the wreck A golden palace rose, or seem'd to rise Th' appointed seat of equitable law, And mild, paternal sway. The potent shock I felt: the transformation I perceived, As marvellously seized as in that moment When from the blind mist issuing, I beheld Glory-beyond all glory ever seen, Confusion infinite of heaven and earth, Dazzling the soul. Meanwhile, prophetic harps In every grove were ringing. War shall cease; Did ye not hear that conquest is abjured?
Disgusted, therefore, or appall'd, by aims
Of fiercer zealots; so confusion reign'd,
And the more faithful were compell'd t' exclaim, As Brutus did to virtue, Liberty,
I worshipp'd thee, and find thee but a shade!' "Such recantation had for me no charm, Nor would I bend to it; who should have grievco At aught, however fair, that bore the mien Of a conclusion, or catastrophe. Why then conceal, that, when the simply good In timid selfishness withdrew, I sought Otner support, not scrupulous whence it came And, by what compromise it stood, not nice? Enough if notions seem'd to be high pitch'd, And qualities determined. Among men So character'd did I maintain a strife Hopeless, and still more hopeless every hour; But, in the process, I began to feel
Bring garlands, bring forth choicest flowers, to deck That, if th' emancipation of the world
The tree of liberty.' My heart rebounded;
Were miss'd, I should at least secure my own
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