Came not, and now perchance upon the heights
Lay at the mercy of this raging storm.
'Inhuman!' said I, was an old man's life
Not worth the trouble of a thought?-alas!
This notice comes too late.' With joy I saw
Her husband enter, from a distant vale.
We sallied forth together; found the tools
Which the neglected veteran had dropped,
But through all quarters looked for him in vain.
We shouted-but no answer! Darkness fell
Without remission of the blast or shower,
And fears for our own safety drove us home.
I, who weep little, did, I will confess,
The moment I was seated here alone,
Honour my little cell with some few tears
Which anger and resentment could not dry.
All night the storm endured; and, soon as help
Had been collected from the neighbouring vale,
With morning we renewed our quest the wind
Was fallen, the rain abated, but the hills
Lay shrouded in impenetrable mist;
And long and hopelessly we sought in vain,
Till, chancing on that lofty ridge to pass
A heap of ruin, almost without walls.
And wholly without roof (in ancient time
It was a chapel, a small edifice,

In which the peasants of these lonely dells

For worship met upon that central height)— Chancing to pass this wreck of stones, we there Espied at last the object of our search,

Couched in a nook, and seemingly alive.

It would have moved you, had you seen the guise
In which he occupied his chosen bed,
Lying full three parts buried among tufts
Of heath-plant under and above him strown,
To baffle, as he might, the watery storm:
And there we found him breathing peaceably

Snug as a child that hides itself in sport
'Mid a green haycock in a sunny field.

We spake he made reply, but would not stir
At our entreaty; less from want of power

Than apprehension and bewildering thoughts.
So was he lifted gently from the ground,

And with their freight the shepherds homeward moved
Through the dull mist, I following-when a step,

A single step, that freed me from the skirts

Of the blind vapour, opened to my view

Glory beyond all glory ever seen

By waking sense, or by the dreaming soul!
Though I am conscious that no power of words
Can body forth, no hues of speech can paint
That gorgeous spectacle-too bright and fair
Even for remembrance; yet the attempt may give
Collateral interest to this homely tale.
The appearance, instantaneously disclosed,
Was of a mighty city-boldly say
A wilderness of building-sinking far
And self-withdrawn into a boundless depth,
Far sinking into splendour-without end!
Fabric it seemed of diamond and of gold,
With alabaster domes and silver spires;
And blazing terrace upon terrace, high
Uplifted; here, serene pavilions bright,
In avenues disposed; there, towers begirt
With battlements, that on their restless fronts
Bore stars-illumination of all gems!

By earthly nature had the effect been wrought
Upon the dark materials of the storm

Now pacified; on them, and on the coves

And mountain-steeps and summits, whereunto

The vapours had receded, taking there

Their station under a cerulean sky.

O, 'twas an unimaginable sight!

Clouds, mists, streams, watery rocks, and emerald turf,

Clouds of all tincture, rocks and sapphire sky,
Confused, commingled, mutually inflamed,
Molten together, and composing thus,
Each lost in each, that marvellous array
Of temple, palace, citadel, and huge
Fantastic pomp of structure without name,

In fleecy folds voluminous enwrapped.

Right in the midst, where interspace appeared
Of open court, an object like a throne
Under a shining canopy of state

Stood fixed; and fixed resemblances were seen

To implements of ordinary use,

But, vast in size, in substance glorified;

Such as by Hebrew Prophets were beheld
In vision-forms uncouth of mightiest power,
For admiration and mysterious awe.

Below me was the earth; this little vale
Lay low beneath my feet; 't was visible-

I saw not, but I felt, that it was there.
That which I saw was the revealed abode
Of Spirits in beatitude: my heart

Swelled in my breast. 'I have been dead,' I cried,

And now I live! Oh! wherefore do I live?'
And with that pang I prayed to be no more!
But I forget our charge-as utterly

I then forgot him-there I stood and gazed;
The apparition faded not away,

And I descended. Having reached the house,
I found its rescued inmate safely lodged,

And in serene possession of himself,
Beside a genial fire that seemed to spread
A gleam of comfort o'er his pallid face.
Great show of joy the Housewife made, and truly
Was glad to find her conscience set at ease;
And not less glad, for sake of her good name,
That the poor sufferer had escaped with life.
But, though he seemed at first to have received
No harm, and uncomplaining as before
Went through his usual tasks, a silent change
Soon showed itself; he lingered three short weeks;
And from the Cottage hath been borne to-day.

"So ends my dolorous tale, and glad I am
That it is ended." At these words he turned-
And, with blithe air of open fellowship,
Brought from the cupboard wine and stouter cheer,
Like one who would be merry. Seeing this,

My grey-haired Friend said courteously—" Nay, nay, You have regaled us as a hermit ought;

Now let us forth into the sun!" Our Host

Rose, though reluctantly, and forth we went.

THE AFFLICTION OF MARGARET.

WHERE art thou, my beloved Son,
Where art thou, worse to me than dead?
Oh find me, prosperous or undone !
Or, if the grave be now thy bed,
Why am I ignorant of the same,
That I may rest; and neither blame
Nor sorrow may attend thy name?

Seven years, alas! to have received
No tidings of an only Child;
To have despaired, and have believed,
And be for evermore beguil'd ;
Sometimes with thoughts of very bliss,
I catch at them, and then I miss;

Was ever darkness like to this?

He was among the prime in worth,

An object beauteous to behold;

Well born, well bred; I sent him forth

Ingenious, innocent, and bold:

If things ensued that wanted grace,

As hath been said, they were not base; And never blush was on my face.