Not like a dancing meteor, but in line Of never-varying motion, to and fro : It is no night-fire of the naked hills, Thought I, some friendly covert must be near. With this persuasion thitherward my steps I turn, and reach at last the guiding light; Joy to myself! but to the heart of her Who there was standing on the open hill,
And, through Heaven's blessing, thus we gain the bread
For which we pray; and for the wants provide Of sickness, accident, and helpless age. Companions have I many; many friends, Dependants, comfortors-my wheel, my fire, All day the house-clock ticking in mine ear, The cackling hen, the tender chicken brood,
(The same kind matron whom your tongue hath And the wild birds that gather round my porch. praised,)
Alarm and dissappointment! The alarm
This honest sheep-dog's countenance I read: With him can talk; nor blush to waste a word
Ceased, when she learn'd through what mishap I On creatures less intelligent and shrewd.
And by what help had gain'd those distant fields. Drawn from her cottage, on that open height, Bearing a lantern in her hand she stood,
Or paced the ground, to guide her husband home, By that unwearied signal, kenn'd afar; An anxious duty! which the lofty site, Traversed but by a few irregular paths, Imposes, whensoe'er untoward chance Detains him after his accustom'd hour
Till night lies black upon the ground. But come, Come,' said the matron, to our poor abode; Those dark rocks hide it!' Entering, I beheld A blazing fire, beside a cleanly hearth
Sate down; and to her office, with leave ask❜d, The dame return'd. Or ere that glowing pile Of mountain turf required the builder's hand Its wasted splendour to repair, the door Open'd, and she re-enter'd with glad looks, Her helpmate following. Hospitable fare, Frank conversation, made the evening's treat: Need a bewilder'd traveller wish for more? But more was given; I studied as we sate By the bright fire, the good man's face; composed Of features elegant; an open brow Of undisturb'd humanity; a cheek Suffused with something of a feminine hue; Eyes beaming courtesy and mild regard; But, in the quicker turns of the discourse, Expression slowly varying, that evinced A tardy apprehension. From a fount Lost, thought I, in th' obscurities of time, But honour'd once, these features and that mien May have descended, though I see them here, In such a man, so gentle and subdued, Withal so graceful in his gentleness, A race illustrious for heroic deeds, Humbled, but not degraded, may expire. This pleasing fancy (cherish'd and upheld By sundry recollections of such fall From high to low, ascent from low to high, As books record, and e'en the careless mind Cannot but notice among men and things) Went with me to the place of my repose. "Roused by the crowing cock at dawn of day, I yet had risen too late to interchange
A morning salutation with my host, Gone forth already to the far-off seat
And if the blustering wind that drives the clouds Care not for me, he lingers round my door, And makes me pastime when our tempers suit; But, above all, my thoughts are my support. The matron ended-nor could I forbear To exclaim, 'O happy! yielding to the law Of these privations, richer in the main !
While thankless thousands are opprest and clogg'd By ease and leisure, by the very wealth And pride of opportunity made poor; While tens of thousands falter in their path, And sink, through utter want of cheering light; For you the hours of labour do not flag: For you each evening hath its shining star, And every Sabbath day its golden sun." "
"Yes!" said the solitary with a smile That seem'd to break from an expanding heart, "The untutor❜d bird may found, and so construct And with such soft materials line her nest, Fix'd in the centre of a prickly brake, That the thorns wound her not: they only guard. Powers not unjustly liken'd to those gifts Of happy instinct which the woodland bird Shares with her species, nature's grace sometimes Upon the individual doth confer,
Among her higher creatures born and train'd To use of reason. And, I own, that tired Of th' ostentatious world—a swelling stage With empty actions and vain passions stuff'd, And from the private struggles of mankind Hoping for less than I could wish to hope, Far less than once I trusted and believed- I loved to hear of those, who, not contending, Nor summon'd to contend for virtue's prize, Miss not the humbler good at which they aim; Blest with a kindly faculty to blunt The edge of adverse circumstance, and turn Into their contraries the petty plagues And hinderances with which they stand beset. In early youth, among my native hills,
I knew a Scottish peasant who possess'd
A few small crofts of stone-encumber'd ground; Masses of every shape and size, that lay Scatter'd about under the mouldering walls Of a rough precipice; and some, apart,
In quarters unobnoxious to such chance,
As if the moon had shower'd them down in spite ; But he repined not. Though the plough was scared
Of his day's work. Three dark mid-winter By these obstructions, round the shady stones
Pass,' said the matron, and I never see,
Save when the Sabbath brings its kind release, My helpmate's face by light of day. He quits His door in darkness, nor till dusk returns.
A fertilizing moisture,' said the swain, 'Gathers, and is preserved; and feeding dews And damps, through all the droughty summer day, From out their substance issuing maintain Herbage that never fails: no grass springs up
So green, so fresh, so plentiful, as mine!' But thinly sown these natures; rare, at least, The mutual aptitude of seed and soil
That yields such kindly product. He, whose bed Perhaps yon loose sods cover, the poor pensioner Brought yesterday from our sequester'd dell Here to lie down in lasting quiet-he,
If living now, could otherwise report
Of rustic loneliness; that gray-hair'd orphan- So call him, for humanity to him
No parent was-feelingly could have told, In life, in death, what solitude can breed Of selfishness, and cruelty, and vice; Or, if it breed not, hath not power to cure. But your compliance, sir, with our request My words too long have hinder'd."
Perhaps incited rather, by these shocks, In no ungracious opposition, given To the confiding spirit of his own Experienced faith, the reverend pastor said, Around him looking, "Where shall I begin? Who shall be first selected from my flock, Gather'd together in their peaceful fold?” He paused, and having lifted up his eyes To the pure heaven, he cast them down again Upon the earth beneath his feet; and spake. "To a mysteriously-consorted pair
This place is consecrate; to death and life, And to the best affections that proceed From their conjunction ;-consecrate to faith In him who bled for man upon the cross; Hallow'd to revelation; and no less To reason's mandates: and the hopes divine Of pure imagination;-above all, To charity, and love, that have provided Within these precincts, a capacious bed And receptacle, open to the good And evil, to the just and the unjust; In which they find an equal resting-place: E'en as the multitude of kindred brooks
And streams, whose murmur fills this hollow vale, Whether their course be turbulent or smooth, Their waters clear or sullied, all are lost
Within the bosom of yon crystal lake,
And end their journey in the same repose!
Tyrants who utter the destroying word, And slaves who will consent to be destroy'd- Were of one species with the shelter'd few, Who, with a dutiful and tender hand, Did lodge, in an appropriated spot,
This file of infants; some that never breathed The vital air; and others, who, allow'd That privilege, did yet expire too soon, Or with too brief a warning, to admit Administration of the holy rite
That lovingly consigns the babe to th' arms Of Jesus, and his everlasting care. These that in trembling hope are laid apart; And the besprinkled nursling, unrequired Till he begins to smile upon the breast That feeds him; and the tottering little one Taken from air and sunshine when the rose Of infancy first blooms upon his cheek; The thinking, thoughtless schoolboy: the bold
Of soul impetuous, and the bashful maid Smitten while all the promises of life Are opening round her: those of middle age, Cast down while confident in strength they stand, Like pillars fix'd more firmly, as might seem, And more secure, by very weight of all That, for support, rests on them; the decay'd And burdensome: and lastly, that poor few Whose light of reason is with age extinct; The hopeful and the hopeless, first and last, The earliest summon'd and the longest spared- Are here deposited, with tribute paid Various, but unto each some tribute paid; As if, amid these peaceful hills and groves, Society were touch'd with kind concern: And gentle Nature grieved, that one should die; Or, if the change demanded no regret, Observed the liberating stroke-and bless'd. And whence that tribute? wherefore these regards? Not from the naked heart alone of man, (Though claiming high distinction upon earth As the sole spring and fountain-head of tears, His own peculiar utterance for distress Or gladness.) No," the philosophic priest Continued, " 'tis not in the vital seat Of feeling to produce them, without aid
"And blest are they who sleep; and we that From the pure soul, the soul sublime and pure; know,
While in a spot like this we breathe and walk, That all beneath us by the wings are cover'd Of motherly humanity, outspread And gathering all within their tender shade, Though loath and slow to come! A battle field, In stillness left when slaughter is no more, With this compared, is a strange spectacle! A rueful sight the wild shore strewn with wrecks, And trod by people in afflicted quest Of friends and kindred, whom the angry sea Restores not to their prayer! Ah! who would think
That all the scatter'd subjects which compose Earth's melancholy vision through the space
Of all her climes; these wretched, these depraved, To virtue lost, insensible of peace, From the delights of charity cut off,
To pity dead, th' oppressor and th' opprest;
With her two faculties of eye and ear,
The one by which a creature, whom his sins Have render'd prone, can upward look to heaven; The other that empowers him to perceive The voice of deity, on height and plain, Whispering those truths in stillness, which the WORD,
To the four quarters of the winds, proclaims. Not without such assistance could the use Of these benign observances prevail. Thus are they born, thus foster'd and maintain'd; And by the care prospective of our wise Forefathers, who, to guard against the shocks, The fluctuation and decay of things, Imbodied and establish'd these high truths In solemn institutions; men convinced That life is love and immortality, The being one, and one the element. There lies the channel, and original bed,
From the beginning, hollow'd out and scoop'd For man's affections; else betray'd and lost, And swallow'd up 'mid deserts infinite! This is the genuine course, the aim, and end Of prescient reason; all conclusions else Are abject, vain, presumptuous, and perverse, The faith partaking of those holy times. Life, I repeat, is energy of love Divine or human; exercised in pain, In strife, and tribulation; and ordain'd, If so approved and sanctified, to pass,
Through shades and silent rest, to endless joy."
THE CHURCHYARD AMONG THE MOUNTAINS.
Poet's address to the state and church of England. The pastor not inferior to the ancient worthies of the church. He begins his narratives with an instance of unrequited love. Anguish of mind subdued, and how. The lonely miner, an instance of perseverance, which leads by contrast to an example of abused talents, irresolution, and weakness. Solitary, applying this covertly to his own case, asks for an instance of some stranger, whose dispositions may have led him to end his days here. Pastor, in answer, gives an account of the harmonizing influence of solitude upon two men of opposite principles, who had encountered agitations in public life.
The rule by which peace may be obtained expressed, and where. Solitary hints at an overpowering fatality. Answer of the pastor. What subjects he will exclude from his narratives. Conversation upon this. Instance of an unamiable character, a female, and why given. Contrasted with this, a meek sufferer, from unguarded and betrayed love. Instance of heavier guilt, and its consequences to the offender. With this instance of a marriage contract broken is contrasted one of a wi. dower, evidencing his faithful affection towards his deceased wife by his care of their female children. HAIL to the crown by freedom shaped, to gird An English sovereign's brow! and to the throne Whereon he sits! Whose deep foundations lie In veneration and the people's love; Whose steps are equity, whose seat is law. Hail to the state of England! And conjoin With this a salutation as devout, Made to the spiritual fabric of her church: Founded in truth; by blood of martyrdom Cemented; by the hands of wisdom rear'd In beauty of holiness, with order'd pomp, Decent, and unreproved. The voice, that greets The majesty of both, shall pray for both; That, mutually protected and sustain'd, They may endure long as the sea surrounds This favour'd land, or sunshine warms her soil. And O, ye swelling hills, and spacious plains! Besprent from shore to shore with steeple-towers, And spires whose "silent finger points to heaven;" Nor wanting, at wide intervals, the bulk Of ancient minster, lifted above the cloud Of the dense air, which town or city breeds To intercept the sun's glad beams,-may ne'er That true succession fail of English hearts, Who, with ancestral feeling can perceive What in those holy structures ye possess Of ornamental interest and the charm
Of pious sentiment diffused afar, And human charity, and social love. Thus never shall th' indignities of time Approach their reverend graces, unopposed; Nor shall the elements be free to hurt Their fair proportions; nor the blinder rage Of bigot zeal madly to overturn; And, if the desolating hand of war Spare them, they shall continue to bestow- Upon the throng'd abodes of busy men (Depraved, and ever prone to fill their minds Exclusively with transitory things) An air and mien of dignified pursuit ; Of sweet civility-on rustic wilds. The poet, fostering for his native land Such hope, entreats that servants may abound Of those pure altars worthy; ministers Detach'd from pleasure, to the love of gain Superior, insusceptible of pride, And by ambitious longings undisturb'd; Men, whose delight is where their duty leads Or fixes them; whose least distinguish'd day Shines with some portion of that heavenly lustre Which makes the Sabbath lovely in the sight of blessed angels, pitying human cares. And, as on earth it is the doom of truth To be perpetually attack'd by foes Open or covert, be that priesthood still, For her defence, replenish'd with a band Of strenuous champions, in scholastic arts Thoroughly disciplined; nor (if in course Of the revolving world's disturbances Cause should recur, which righteous heaven avert! To meet such trial) from their spiritual sire Degenerate; who, constrain❜d to wield the sword Of disputation, shrunk not, though assail'd With hostile din, and combating in sight Of angry umpires, partial and unjust; And did, thereafter, bathe their hands in fire, So to declare the conscience satisfied: Nor for their bodies would accept release; But, blessing God and praising him, bequeathed With their last breath, from out the smouldering flame,
The faith which they by diligence had earn'd, Or, through illuminating grace, received, For their dear countrymen, and all mankind. O high example, constancy divine!
E'en such a man (inheriting the zeal And from the sanctity of elder times Not deviating, a priest, the like of whom, If multiplied, and in their stations set, Would o'er the bosom of a joyful land Spread true religion, and her genuine fruits) Before me stood that day; on holy ground Fraught with the relics of mortality, Exalting tender themes, by just degrees To lofty raised; and to the highest, last; The head and mighty paramount of truths; Immortal life, in never-fading worlds, For mortal creatures, conquer'd and secured. That basis laid, those principles of faith Announced, as a preparatory act Of reverence to the spirit of the place; The pastor cast his eyes upon the ground, Not, as before, like one oppress'd with awe,
But with a mild and social cheerfulness, Then to the solitary turn'd, and spake.
"At morn or eve, in your retired domain, Perchance you not unfrequently have mark'd A visiter-in quest of herbs and flowers; Too delicate employ, as would appear
For one, who, though of drooping mien, had yet From nature's kindliness received a frame Robust as ever rural labour bred."
The solitary answer'd: "Such a form Full well I recollect. We often cross'd Each other's path; but, as th' intruder seem'd Fondly to prize the silence which he kept, And I as willingly did cherish mine,
We met, and pass'd, like shadows. I have heard, From my good host that he was crazed in brain By unrequited love; and scaled the rocks, Dived into caves, and pierced the matted woods In hope to find some virtuous herb of power To cure his malady!"
The vicar smiled, "Alas! before to-morrow's sun goes down His habitation will be here: for him That open grave is destined."
Of pain and grief?" the solitary ask'd, "Believe it not-oh! never could that be !" "He loved," the vicar answer'd, "deeply loved, Loved fondly, truly, fervently; and dared At length to tell his love, but sued in vain; Rejected-yea repell'd—and, if with scorn Upon the haughty maiden's brow, 'tis but
A high-prized plume which female beauty wears In wantonness of conquest, or puts on To cheat the world, or from herself to hide Humiliation, when no longer free.
That he could brook, and glory in ;-but when The tidings came that she whom he had woo'd Was wedded to another, and his heart Was forced to rend away its only hope, Then, pity could have scarcely found on earth An object worthier of regard than he, In the transition of that bitter hour! Lost was she, lost; nor could the sufferer say That in the act of preference he had been Unjustly dealt with; but the maid was gone! Had vanish'd from his prospects and desires; Not by translation to the heavenly choir Who have put off their mortal spoils-ah no! She lives another's wishes to complete,- Joy be their lot, and happiness,' he cried, 'His lot and hers as misery is mine!"
"Such was that strong concussion; but the man, Who trembled, trunk and limbs, like some huge oak By a fierce tempest shaken, soon resumed The steadfast quiet natural to a mind Of composition gentle and sedate, And in its movements circumspect and slow. To books, and to the long forsaken desk, O'er which enchain'd by science he had loved To bend, he stoutly readdress'd himself, Resolved to quell his pain, and search for truth With keener appetite (if that might be) And closer industry. Of what ensued Within the heart no outward sign appear'd Till a betraying sickliness was seen
A mind in all heart mysteries unversed. Go to the hills,' said one, remit a while This baneful diligence: at early morn
Court the fresh air, explore the heaths and woods; And, leaving it to others to foretell,
By calculations sage, the ebb and flow
Of tides, and when the moon will be eclipsed, Do you, for your own benefit, construct
A calendar of flowers, pluck'd as they blow Where health abides, and cheerfulness, and peace.' The attempt was made; 'tis needless to report How hopelessly: but innocence is strong, An an entire simplicity of mind,
A thing most sacred in the eye of heaven, That opens, for such sufferers, relief Within their souls, a fount of grace divine; And doth commend their weakness and disease To nature's care, assisted in her office By all the elements that round her wait To generate, to preserve, and to restore; And by her beautiful array of forms Shedding sweet influence from above, or pure Delight exhaling from the ground they tread."
"Impute it not to impatience, if," exclaim'd The wanderer, "I infer that he was heal'd By perseverance in the course prescribed." "You do not err: the powers, that had been lost By slow degrees, were gradually regain'd; The fluttering nerves composed; the beating heart In rest establish'd; and the jarring thoughts To harmony restored. But yon dark mould Will cover him, in the fulness of his strength- Hastily smitten, by a fever's force; Yet not with stroke so sudden as refused Time to look back with tenderness on her Whom he had loved in passion,-and to send Some farewell words-with one, but one, request, That, from his dying hand, she would accept Of his possessions that which most he prized; A book, upon whose leaves some chosen plants By his own hand disposed with nicest care, In undecaying beauty were preserved; Mute register, to him, of time and place, And various fluctuations in the breast; To her, a monument of faithful love Conquer'd, and in tranquillity retain❜d!
"Close to his destined habitation, lies One who achieved a humbler victory, Though marvellous in its kind. A place there is High in these mountains, that allured a band Of keen adventurers to unite their pains
In search of precious ore: who tried, were foil'd— And all desisted, all, save him alone.
He, taking counsel of his own clear thoughts, And trusting only to his own weak hands, Urged unremittingly the stubborn work, Unseconded, uncountenanced; then, as time
Pass'd on, while still his lonely efforts found No recompense, derided; and at length, By many pitied; as insane of mind; By others dreaded as the luckless thrall Of subterranean spirits feeding hope By various mockery of sight and sound; Hope after hope, encouraged and destroy'd. But when the lord of seasons had matured The fruits of earth through space of twice ten years The mountain's entrails offer'd to his view And trembling grasp the long deterr'd reward. Not with more transport did Columbus greet A world, his rich discovery! but our swain, A very hero till his point was gain'd, Proved all unable to support the weight Of prosperous fortune. On the fields he look'd With an unsettled liberty of thought,
Of schemes and wishes; in the daylight walk'd Giddy and restless; ever and anon Quaff'd in his gratitude immoderate cups And truly might be said to die of joy! He vanish'd; but conspicuous to this day The path remains that link'd his cottage door To the mine's mouth; a long, and slanting track, Upon the rugged mountain's stony side, Worn by his daily visits to and from The darksome centre of a constant hope. This vestige, neither force of beating rain, Nor the vicissitudes of frost and thaw Shall cause to fade, till ages pass away; And it is named, in memory of the event, The Path of Perseverance."
"Thou from whom Man has his strength," exclaim'd the wanderer, "O!
Do Thou direct it!-to the virtuous grant The penetrative eye which can perceive
In this blind world the guiding vein of hope, That like this labourer, such may dig their way 'Unshaken, unseduced, unterrified ;' Grant to the wise his firmness of resolve!"
Into the lists of giddy enterprise
Such was he; yet, as if within his frame Two several souls alternately had lodged, Two sets of manners could the youth put on ; And, fraught with antics as the Indian bird That writhes and chatters in her wiry cage; Was graceful, when it pleased him, smooth and still As the mute swan that floats adown the stream, Or, on the waters of the unruffled lake, Anchors her placid beauty. Not a leaf, That flutters on the bough, more light than He; And not a flower, that droops in the green shade, More winningly reserved! If ye inquire How such consummate elegance was bred Amid these wilds, this answer may suffice, 'Twas nature's will; who sometimes undertakes, For the reproof of human vanity,
Art to outstrip in her peculiar walk. Hence, for this favourite, lavishly endow'd
With personal gifts, and bright instinctive wit, While both, embellishing each other, stood Yet farther recommended by the charm Of fine demeanour, and by dance and song, And skill in letters, every fancy shaped Fair expectations; nor, when to the world's Capacious field forth went the adventurer there Were he and his attainments overlook'd,
Or scantily rewarded; but all hopes, Cherish'd for him, he suffer'd to depart,
Like blighted buds; or clouds that mimick'd land Before the sailor's eye; or diamond drops
That sparkling deck'd the morning grass; or aught That was attractive-and hath ceased to be! Yet when this prodigal return'd, the rites Of joyful greeting were on him bestow'd, Who, by humiliation undeterr'd,
Sought for his weariness a place of rest Within his father's gates. Whence came he?-
In tatter'd garb, from hovels where abides Necessity, the stationary host
"That prayer were not superfluous," said the Of vagrant poverty; from rifted barns
"Amid the noblest relics, proudest dust, That Westminster, for Britain's glory, holds Within the bosom of her awful pile, Ambitiously collected. Yet the sigh,
Which wafts that prayer to heaven, is due to all, Wherever laid, who living fell below Their virtue's humbler mark; a sigh of pain If to the opposite extreme they sank. How would you pity her who yonder rests; Him, farther off; the pair, who here are laid; But, above all, that mixture of earth's mould Whom sight of this green hillock to my mind Recalls! He lived not till his locks were nipp'd By seasonable frost of age; nor died Before his temples, prematurely forced To mix the manly brown with silver gray, Gave obvious instance of the sad effect Produced, when thoughtless folly hath usurp'd The natural crown that sage experience wears. Gay, volatile, ingenious, quick to learn, And prompt to exhibit all that he possess'd Or could perform! a zealous actor-hired Into the troop of mirth, a soldier-sworn
Where no one dwells but the wide staring owl And the owl's prey; from these bare haunts, to which
He had descended from the proud saloon, He came, the ghost of beauty and of health, The wreck of gayety! but soon revived In strength, in power refitted, he renew'd His suit to fortune; and she smiled again Upon a fickle ingrate. Thrice he rose, Thrice sank as willingly. For he, whose nerves Were used to thrill with pleasure, while his voice Softly accompanied the tuneful harp,
By the nice finger of fair ladies, touch'd In glittering halls, was able to derive No less enjoyment from an abject choice. Who happier for the moment-who more blithe Than this fall'n spirit? in those dreary holds His talents lending to exalt the freaks Of merry-making beggars,-now, provoked To laughter multiplied in louder peals By his malicious wit; then, all enchain'd With mute astonishment, themselves to see In their own arts outdone, their fame eclipsed, As by the very presence of the fiend
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