Had been collected from the neighbouring vale, With morning we renew'd our quest; the wind Was fall'n, 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, (the bleach'd remains Of a small chapel, where, in ancient time, The peasants of these lonely valleys used To meet for worship on that central height)— We there espied the object of our search, Lying full three parts buried among tufts Of heath plant, under and above him strewn, 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, open'd to my view Glory beyond all glory ever seen
By waking sense or by the dreaming soul! Th' appearance, instantaneously disclosed, Was of a mighty city-boldly say A wilderness of building, sinking far And self-withdrawn into a wondrous depth, Far sinking into splendour-without end! Fabric it seem'd 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
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 inwrapp'd. Right in the midst, where interspace appear'd Of open court, an object like a throne Beneath a shining canopy of state Stood fix'd; and fix'd 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; 'twas visible- I saw not, but I felt that it was there. That which I saw was the reveal'd abode Of spirits in beatitude: my heart Swell'd in my breast. I have been dead,' I cried, And now I live! O! wherefore do I live?' And with that pang I pray'd 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 reach'd the house, I found its rescued inmate safely lodged, And in serene possession of himself, Beside a genial fire; that seem'd 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 seem'd at first to have received No harm, and uncomplaining as before Went through his usual tasks, a silent change Soon show'd itself; he linger'd 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 turn'd- And, with blithe air of open fellowship, Brought from the cupboard wine and stouter cheer, Like one who would be merry. Seeing this, My gray-hair'd 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.
Images in the valley. Another recess in it entered and described. Wanderer's sensations. Solitary's excited by the same objects. Contrast between these. Despondency of the solitary gently reproved. Conversation exhibiting the solitary's past and present opinions and feelings, till he enters upon his own history at length. His domestic felicity. Afflictions. Dejection. Roused by the French revolution. Disappointment and disgust. Voyage to America. Disappointment and disgust pursue him. His return. His languor and depression of mind, from want of faith in the great truths of religion, and want of confidence in the virtue of mankind.
A HUMMING bee a little tinkling rill- A pair of falcons, wheeling on the wing, In clamorous agitation, round the crest Of a tall rock, their airy citadel- By each and all of these the pensive ear Was greeted, in the silence that ensued, When through the cottage threshold we had pass'd, And, deep within that lonesome valley stood Once more, beneath the concave of a blue And cloudless sky. Anon! exclaim'd our host Triumphantly dispersing with the taunt The shade of discontent which on his brow Had gather'd, "Ye have left my cell,--but see How nature hems you in with friendly arms! And by her help ye are my prisoners still.
But which way shall I lead you? how contrive, In spot so parsimoniously endow'd, That the brief hours, which yet remain, may reap Some recompense of knowledge or delight?" So saying, round he look'd, as if perplex'd; And, to remove those doubts, my gray-hair'd friend Said "Shall we take this pathway for our guide? Upward it winds, as if, in summer heats, Its line had first been fashion'd by the flock A place of refuge seeking at the root
Of yon black yew tree; whose protruded boughs Darken the silver bosom of the crag,
From which she draws her meagre sustenance. There in commodious shelter may we rest. Or let us trace this streamlet to his source; Feebly it tinkles with an earthly sound, And a few steps may bring us to the spot
More than the heedless impress that belongs To lonely nature's casual work; they bear A semblance strange of power intelligent, And of design not wholly worn away. Boldest of plants that ever faced the wind, How gracefully that slender shrub looks forth From its fantastic birthplace! And I own, Some shadowy intimations haunt me here, That in these shows a chronicle survives Of purposes akin to those of man,
But wrought with mightier arm than now prevails. Voiceless the stream descends into the gulf With timid lapse; and lo! while in this strait I stand-the chasm of sky above my head Is heaven's profoundest azure; no domain For fickle, shortlived clouds to occupy, Or to pass through, but rather an abyss
Where, haply, crown'd with flowerets and green In which the everlasting stars abide ;
The mountain infant to the sun comes forth, Like human life from darkness."-A quick turn Through a strait passage of incumber'd ground, Proved that such hope was vain :-for now we stood Shut out from prospect of the open vale, And saw the water, that composed this rill, Descending, disembodied, and diffused O'er the smooth surface of an ample crag, Lofty, and steep, and naked as a tower.
All further progress here was barr'd. And who, Thought I, if master of a vacant hour, Here would not linger, willingly detain'd? Whether to such wild objects he were led When copious rains have magnified the stream Into a loud and white-robed waterfall, Or introduced at this more quiet time.
Upon a semicirque of turf-clad ground, The hidden nook discover'd to our view A mass of rock, resembling, as it lay Right at the foot of that moist precipice, A stranded ship, with keel upturn'd,-that rests Fearless of winds and waves. Three several stones Stood near, of smaller size, and not unlike To monumental pillars; and from these Some little space disjoin'd, a pair were seen, That with united shoulders bore aloft A fragment, like an altar, flat and smooth; Barren the tablet, yet thereon appear'd A tall and shining holly, that had found A hospitable chink, and stood upright, As if inserted by some human hand In mockery, to wither in the sun, Or lay its beauty flat before a breeze,
The first that enter'd. But no breeze did now Find entrance; high or low appear'd no trace Of motion, save the water that descended, Diffused adown that barrier of steep rock, And softly creeping, like a breath of air, Such as is sometimes seen, and hardly seen, To brush the still breast of a crystal lake. "Behold a cabinet for sages built, Which kings might envy!" Praise to this effect Broke from the happy old man's reverend lip; Who to the solitary turn'd, and said, "In sooth, with love's familiar privilege,
You have decried the wealth which is your own. Among these rocks and stones, methinks, I see
And whose soft gloom, and boundless depth, might
The curious eye to look for them by day. Hail contemplation! from the stately towers Rear'd by the industrious hand of human art To lift thee high above the misty air And turbulence of murmuring cities vast: From academic groves, that have for thee Been planted, hither come and find a lodge To which thou mayst resort for holier peace,— From whose calm centre thou, through height or depth,
Mayst penetrate, wherever truth shall lead ; Measuring through all degrees, until the scale Of time and conscious nature disappear, Lost in unsearchable eternity!"
A pause ensued; and with minuter care We scann'd the various features of the scene: And soon the tenant of that lonely vale With courteous voice thus spake-
"I should have grieved
Hereafter, not escaping self-reproach, If from my poor retirement ye had gone Leaving this nook unvisited: but, in sooth, Your unexpected presence had so roused My spirits, that they were bent on enterprise ; And, like an ardent hunter, I forgot, Or, shall I say?-disdain'd the game that lurks At my own door. The shapes before our eyes, And their arrangement, doubtless must be deem'd The sport of nature, aided by blind chance Rudely to mock the works of toiling man. And hence, this upright shaft of unhewn stone, From fancy, willing to set off her stores By sounding titles, hath acquired the name Of Pompey's pillar; that I gravely style My Theban obelisk; and, there, behold A Druid cromlech!-thus I entertain The antiquarian humour, and am pleased To skim along the surfaces of things, Beguiling harmlessly the listless hours. But if the spirit be oppress'd by sense Of instability, revolt, decay,
And change, and emptiness, these freaks of nature, And her blind helper, chance, do then suffice
To quicken, and to aggravate-to feed Pity and scorn, and melancholy pride, Not less than that huge pile (from some abyss
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! Him, 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. Or is she,"
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 bride, 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 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
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