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Back to my mind rushed all that had been urged Made the eye blind, and closed the passages
To calm the Sufferer when his story closed ; Through which the ear converses with the heart.
I looked for counsel as unbending now;

Has not the soul, the being of your life,
But a discriminating sympathy

Received a shock of awful consciousness,
Stooped to this apt reply:-

In some calm season, when these lofty rocks

“As men from men At night's approach bring down the unclouded sky, Do, in the constitution of their souls,

To rest upon their circumambient walls;
Differ, by mystery not to be explained ;

A temple framing of dimensions vast,
And as we fall by various ways, and sink

And yet not too enormous for the sound
One deeper than another, self-condemned, Of human anthems --choral song, or burst
Through manifold degrees of guilt and shame; Sublime of instrumental harmony,
So manifold and various are the ways

To glorify the Eternal! What if these
Of restoration, fashioned to the steps

Did never break the stillness that prevails
Of all infirmity, and tending all

Here,- if the solemn nightingale be mute,
To the same point, attainable by all —

And the soft woodlark here did never chant
Peace in ourselves, and union with our God. Her vespers, Nature fails not to provide
For you, assuredly, a hopeful road

Impulse and utterance. The whispering air
Lies open : we have heard from you a voice Sends inspiration from the shadowy heights,
At every moment softened in its course

And blind recesses of the caverned roeks;
By tenderness of heart ; have seen your eye, The little rills, and waters numberless,
Even like an altar lit by fire from heaven, Inaudible by daylight, blend their notes
Kindle before us.— Your discourse this day, With the loud streams: and often, at the hour
That, like the fabled Lethe, wished to flow When issue forth the first pale stars, is heard,
In creeping sadness, through oblivious shades Within the circuit of this fabric huge,
Of death and night, has caught at every turn One voice--the solitary raven, flying
The colours of the sun. Access for you

Athwart the concave of the dark blue dome,
Is yet preserved to principles of truth,

Unseen, perchance above all power of sight-
Which the imaginative Will upholds

An iron knell ! with echoes from afar
In seats of wisdom, not to be approached Faint-and still fainter—as the cry, with which
By the inferior Faculty that moulds,

The wanderer accompanies her flight
With her minute and speculative pains,

Through the calm region, fades upon the ear,
Opinion, ever changing !

Diminishing by distance till it seemed
I have seen

To expire; yet from the abyss is caught again,
A curious child, who dwelt upon a tract

And yet again recovered !
Of inland ground, applying to his ear

But descending
The convolutions of a smooth-lipped shell ; From these imaginative heights, that yield
To which, in silence hushed, his very soul Far-stretching views into eternity,
Listened intensely; and his countenance soon Acknowledge that to Nature's humbler power
Brightened with joy; for from within were heard | Your cherished sullenness is forced to bend
Murmurings, whereby the monitor expressed Even here, where her amenities are sown
Mysterious union with its native sea.

With sparing hand. Then trust yourself abroad
Even such a shell the universe itself

To range her blooming bowers, and spacious fields,
Is to the ear of Faith ; and there are times, Where on the labours of the happy throng
I doubt not, when to you it doth impart

She smiles, including in her wide embrace
Authentic tidings of invisible things ;

City, and town, and tower,--and sea with ships
Of ebb and flow, and ever-during power ; Sprinkled ;—be our Companion while we track
And central peace, subsisting at the heart Her rivers populous with gliding life;
Of endless agitation. Here you stand,

While, free as air, o'er printless sands we march,
Adore, and worship, when you know it not; Or pierce the gloom of her majestic woods;
Pious beyond the intention of your thought ; Roaming, or resting under grateful shade
Devout above the meaning of your will.

In peace and meditative cheerfulness;
-Yes, you have felt, and may not cease to feel. Where living things, and things inanimate,
The estate of man would be indeed forlorn Do speak, at Heaven's command, to eye and ear,
If false conclusions of the reasoning power And speak to social reason's inner sense,

3

With inarticulate language.

Of order and distinctness, not for this

For, the Man-- Shall it forget that its most noble use,
Who, in this spirit, communes with the Forms Its most illustrious province, must be found
Of nature, who with understanding heart

In furnishing clear guidance, a support
Both knows and loves such objects as excite Not treacherous, to the mind's excursive power,
No morbid passions, no disquietude,

-So build we up the Being that we are ;
No vengeance, and no hatred-needs must feel Thus deeply drinking-in the soul of things,
The joy of that pure principle of love

We shall be wise perforce; and, while inspired So deeply, that, unsatisfied with aught

By choice, and conscious that the Will is free, Less pure and exquisite, he cannot choose

Shall move unswerving, even as if impelled But seek for objects of a kindred love

By strict necessity, along the path In fellow-natures and a kindred joy.

Of order and of good. Whate'er we see, Accordingly he by degrees perceives

Or feel, shall tend to quicken and refine; His feelings of aversion softened down;

Shall fix, in calmer seats of moral strength, A holy tenderness pervade his frame.

Earthly desires ; and raise, to loftier heights
His sanity of reason not impaired,

Of divine love, our intellectual soul.”
Say rather, all his thoughts now flowing clear,
From a clear fountain flowing, he looks round Here closed the Sage that eloquent harangue,
And seeks for good; and finds the good he seeks: Poured forth with fervour in continuous stream,
Until abhorrence and contempt are things

Such as, remote, mid savage wilderness,
He only knows by name; and, if he hear,

An Indian Chief discharges from his breast
From other mouths, the language which they speak, Into the hearing of assembled tribes,
He is compassionate; and has no thought, In open circle seated round, and hushed
No feeling, which can overcome his love.

As the unbreathing air, when not a leaf

Stirs in the mighty woods. -So did he speak:
And further; by contemplating these Forms The words he uttered shall not pass away
In the relations which they bear to man,

Dispersed, like music that the wind takes up
He shall discern, how, through the various means By snatches, and lets fall, to be forgotten;
Which silently they yield, are multiplied

No--they sank into me, the bounteous gift
The spiritual presences of absent things.

Of one whom time and nature had made wise,
Trust me, that for the instructed, time will come Gracing his doctrine with authority
When they shall meet no object but may teach Which hostile spirits silently allow ;
Some acceptable lesson to their minds

Of one accustomed to desires that feed
Of human suffering, or of human joy.

On fruitage gathered from the tree of life;
So shall they learn, while all things speak of man, To hopes on knowledge and experience built ;
Their duties from all forms; and general laws, Of one in whom persuasion and belief
And local accidents, shall tend alike

Had ripened into faith, and faith become
To rouse, to urge; and, with the will, confer A passionate intuition; whence the Soul,
The ability to spread the blessings wide

Though bound to earth by ties of pity and love,
Of true philanthropy. The light of love

From all injurious servitude was free.
Not failing, perseverance from their steps
Departing not, for them shall be confirmed

The Sun, before his place of rest were reached,
The glorious habit by which sense is made Had yet to travel far, but unto us,
Subservient still to moral purposes,

To us who stood low in that hollow dell,
Auxiliar to divine. That change shall clothe He had become invisible,-a pomp
The naked spirit, ceasing to deplore

Leaving behind of yellow radiance spread
The burthen of existence. Science then

Over the mountain sides, in contrast bold Shall be a precious visitant; and then,

With ample shadows, seemingly, no less
And only then, be worthy of her name:

Than those resplendent lights, his rich bequest ;
For then her heart shall kindle ; her dull eye, A dispensation of his evening power.
Dull and inanimate, no more shall hang

-Adown the path that from the glen had led
Chained to its object in brute slavery;

The funeral train, the Shepherd and his Mate But taught with patient interest to watch

Were seen descending:-forth to greet them ran The processes of things, and serve the cause Our little Page: the rustic pair approach ;

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And in the Matron's countenance may be read
Plain indication that the words, which told
How that neglected Pensioner was sent
Before his time into a quiet grave,
Had done to her humanity no wrong:
But we are kindly welcomed-promptly served
With ostentatious zeal.—Along the floor

Of the small Cottage in the lonely Dell
A grateful couch was spread for our repose;
Where, in the guise of mountaineers, we lay,
Stretched upon fragrant heath, and lulled by sound
Of far-off torrents charming the still night,
And, to tired limbs and over-busy thoughts,
Inviting sleep and soft forgetfulness.

BOOK FIFTH.

THE PASTOR.

ARGUMENT. Farewell to the Valley-Reflections, A large and populous

Vale described–The Pastor's Dwelling, and some account of him-Church and Monuments-The Solitary musing, and where-Roused-In the Churchyard the Solitary communicates the thoughts which had recently passed through his mind-Lofty tone of the Wanderer's discourse of yesterday adverted to-Rite of Baptism, and the professions accompanying it, contrasted with the real state of human life-Apology for the Rite-Inconsistency of the best men-Acknowledgment that practice falls far below the injunctions of duty as existing in the mind-General complaint of a falling-off in the value of life after the time of youth -Outward appearances of content and happiness in degree illusive-Pastor approaches Appeal made to him-His answer~Wanderer in sympathy with himSuggestion that the least ambitious enquirers may be most free from error-The Pastor is desired to give some portraits of the living or dead from his own observa. tion of life among these Mountains—and for what purpose-Pastor consents-- Mountain cottage-Excellent qualities of its Inhabitants-Solitary expresses his pleasure; but denies the praise of virtue to worth of this kind-Feelings of the Priest before he enters upon his account of persons interred in the ChurchyardGraves of unbaptized Infants-Funeral and sepulchral observances, whence-Ecclesiastical Establishments, whence derived—Profession of belief in the doctrine of Immortality.

Of that brown ridge, sole outlet of the vale
Which foot of boldest stranger would attempt,
Lingering behind my comrades, thus I breathed
A parting tribute to a spot that seemed
Like the fixed centre of a troubled world.
Again I halted with reverted eyes;
The chain that would not slacken, was at length
Snapt,-and, pursuing leisurely my way,
How vain, thought I, is it by change of place
To seek that comfort which the mind denies;
Yet trial and temptation oft are shunned
Wisely ; and by such tenure do we hold,
Frail life's possessions, that even they whose fate
Yields no peculiar reason of complaint
Might, by the promise that is here, be won
To steal from active duties, and embrace
Obscurity, and undisturbed repose.
---Knowledge, methinks, in these disordered times,
Should be allowed a privilege to have
Her anchorites, like piety of old;
Men, who, from faction sacred, and unstained

might, if so minded, turn aside
Uncensured, and subsist, a scattered few
Living to God and nature, and content
With that communion. Consecrated be
The spots where such abide! But happier still
The Man, whom, furthermore, a hope attends
That meditation and research may guide
His privacy to principles and powers
Discovered or invented; or set forth,
Through his acquaintance with the ways of truth,
In lucid order; so that, when his course
Is run, some faithful eulogist may say,
He sought not praise, and praise did overlook
His unobtrusive merit; but his life,
Sweet to himself, was exercised in good
That shall survive his name and memory.

By war,

“ FAREWELL, deep Valley, with thy one rude

House, And its small lot of life-supporting fields, And guardian rocks !--Farewell, attractive seat ! To the still influx of the morning light Open, and day's pure cheerfulness, but veiled From human observation, as if yet Primeval forests wrapped thee round with dark Impenetrable shade; once more farewell, Majestic circuit, beautiful abyss, By Nature destined from the birth of things For quietness profound !”

Upon the side

Acknowledgments of gratitude sincere Accompanied these musings; fervent thanks

For my own peaceful lot and happy choice; The shepherd of his flock ; or, as a king
A choice that from the passions of the world Is styled, when most affectionately praised,
Withdrew, and fixed me in a still retreat ;

The father of his people. Such is he;
Sheltered, but not to social duties lost,

And rich and poor, and young and old, rejoice Secluded, but not buried; and with song

Under his spiritual sway. He hath vouclisafed Cheering my days, and with industrious thought; To me some portion of a kind regard; With the ever-welcome company of books ; And something also of his inner mind With virtuous friendship’s soul-sustaining aid, Hath he imparted—but I speak of him And with the blessings of domestic love.

As he is known to all.

The calm delights
Thus occupied in mind I paced along,

Of unambitious piety he chose,
Following the rugged road, by sledge or wheel And learning's solid dignity; though born
Worn in the moorland, till I overtook

Of knightly race, nor wanting powerful friends. My two Associates, in the morning sunshine Hither, in prime of manhood, he withdrew Halting together on a rocky knoll,

From academic bowers. He loved the spotWhence the bare road descended rapidly

Who does not love his native soil !he prized To the green meadows of another vale.

The ancient rural character, composed

Of simple manners, feelings unsupprest Here did our pensive Host put forth his hand And undisguised, and strong and serious thought; In sign of farewell. “Nay,” the old Man said, A character reflected in himself, “ The fragrant air its coolness still retains; With such embellishment as well beseems The herds and flocks are yet abroad to crop His rank and sacred function. This deep vale The dewy grass ; you cannot leave us now,

Winds far in reaches hidden from our sight, We must not part at this inviting hour."

And one a turreted manorial hall
He yielded, though reluctant ; for his mind Adorns, in which the good Man's ancestors
Instinctively disposed him to retire

Have dwelt through ages-Patrons of this Cure. To his own covert; as a billow, heaved

To them, and to his own judicious pains, Upon the beach, rolls back into the sea.

The Vicar's dwelling, and the whole domain, -So we descend: and winding round a rock Owes that presiding aspect which might well Attain a point that showed the valley-stretched Attract your notice ; statelier than could else In length before us; and, not distant far,

Have been bestowed, through course of common Upon a rising ground a grey church-tower,

chance, Whose battlements were screened by tufted trees. On an unwealthy mountain Benefice.” And towards a crystal Mere, that lay beyond Among steep hills and woods embosomed, flowed This said, oft pausing, we pursued our way ; A copious stream with boldly-winding course; Nor reached the village-churchyard till the sun Here traceable, there hidden—there again

Travelling at steadier pace than ours, had risen To sight restored, and glittering in the sun. Above the summits of the highest hills, On the stream's bank, and every where, appeared And round our path darted oppressive beams. Fair dwellings, single, or in social knots; Some scattered o'er the level, others perched As chanced, the portals of the sacred Pile On the hill sides, a cheerful quiet scene,

Stood open ; and we entered. On my frame, Now in its morning purity arrayed.

At such transition from the fervid air,

A grateful coolness fell, that seemed to strike “ As 'mid some happy valley of the Alps," The heart, in concert with that temperate awe Said I, “once happy, ere tyrannic power,

And natural reverence which the place inspired. Wantonly breaking in upon the Swiss,

Not raised in nice proportions was the pile,
Destroyed their unoffending commonwealth, But large and massy; for duration built ;
A popular equality reigns here,

With pillars crowded, and the roof upheld
Save for yon stately House beneath whose roof By naked rafters intricately cro

crossed, A rural lord might dwell.”—“ No feudal pomp, Like leafless underboughs, in some thick wood, Or power,” replied the Wanderer, “ to that House All withered by the depth of shade above. Belongs, but there in his allotted Home

Admonitory texts inscribed the walls, Abides, from year to year, a genuine Priest, Each, in its ornamental scroll, enclosed;

Each also crowned with winged heads-a pair
Of rudely-painted Cherubim. The floor
Of nave and aisle, in unpretending guise,
Was occupied by oaken benches ranged
In seemly rows ; the chancel only showed
Some vain distinctions, marks of earthly state
By immemorial privilege allowed;
Though with the Encincture's special sanctity
But ill according. An heraldic shield,
Varying its tincture with the changeful light,
Imbued the altar-window ; fixed aloft
A faded hatchment hung, and one by time
Yet undiscoloured. A capacious pew
Of sculptured oak stood here, with drapery lined;
And marble monuments were here displayed
Thronging the walls; and on the floor beneath
Sepulchral stones appeared, with emblems graven
And foot-worn epitaphs, and some with small
And shining effigies of brass inlaid.

In modest panegyric.

“ These dim lines, What would they tell ?" said I,—but, from the task Of puzzling out that faded narrative, With whisper soft my venerable Friend Called me; and, looking down the darksome aisle, I saw the Tenant of the lonely vale Standing apart; with curvèd arm reclined On the baptismal font; his pallid face Upturned, as if his mind were rapt, or lost In some abstraction ;-gracefully he stood, The semblance bearing of a sculptured form That leans upon a monumental urn In peace, from morn to night, from year to year.

The tribute by these various records claimed, Duly we paid, each after each, and read The ordinary chronicle of birth, Office, alliance, and promotion-all Ending in dust; of upright magistrates, Grave doctors strenuous for the mother-church, And uncorrupted senators, alike To king and people true. A brazen plate, Not easily deciphered, told of one Whose course of earthly honour was begun In quality of page among the train Of the eighth Henry, when he crossed the seas His royal state to show, and prove his strength In tournament, upon the fields of France. Another tablet registered the death, And praised the gallant bearing, of a Knight Tried in the sea-fights of the second Charles. Near this brave Knight his Father lay entombed ; And, to the silent language giving voice, I read,-how in his manhood's earlier day He, 'mid the afflictions of intestine war And rightful government subverted, found One only solace-that he had espoused A virtuous Lady tenderly beloved For her benign perfections; and yet more Endeared to him, for this, that, in her state Of wedlock richly crowned with Heaven's regard, She with a numerous issue filled his house, Who throve, like plants, uninjured by the storm That laid their country waste. No need to speak Of less particular notices assigned To Youth or Maiden gone before their time, And Matrons and unwedded Sisters old ; Whose charity and goodness were rehearsed

Him from that posture did the Sexton rouse ; Who entered, humming carelessly a tune, Continuation haply of the notes That had beguiled the work from which he came, With spade and mattock o'er his shoulder hung; To be deposited, for future need, In their appointed place. The pale Recluse Withdrew; and straight we followed,—to a spot Where sun and shade were intermixed; for there A broad oak, stretching forth its leafy arms From an adjoining pasture, overhung Small space of that green churchyard with a light And pleasant awning. On the moss-grown wall My ancient Friend and I together took Our seats; and thus the Solitary spake, Standing before us :

“ Did you note the mien Of that self-solaced, easy-hearted churl, Death’s hireling, who scoops out his neighbour's

grave, Or wraps an old acquaintance up in clay, All unconcerned as he would bind a sheaf, Or plant a tree. And did you hear his voice! I was abruptly summoned by the sound From some affecting images and thoughts, Which then were silent; but crave utterance now.

Much,” he continued, with dejected look, “Much, yesterday, was said in glowing phrase Of our sublime dependencies, and hopes For future states of being; and the wings Of speculation, joyfully outspread, Hovered above our destiny on earth : But stoop, and place the prospect of the soul In sober contrast with reality, And man's substantial life. If this mute earth Of what it holds could speak, and every grave Were as a volume, shut, yet capable Of yielding its contents to eye

and

ear,

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