To lower can you question that the Soul
Inherits an allegiance, not by choice
To be cast off, upon an oath proposed

By each new upstart Notion? In the ports
Of levity no refuge can be found,
No shelter, for a spirit in distress.
He, who by wilful disesteem of life,
And proud insensibility to hope,
Affronts the eye of Solitude, shall learn
That her mild nature can be terrible;
That neither she nor Silence lack the power
To avenge their own insulted Majesty.

--

O blest seclusion! when the Mind admits The law of duty; and can therefore move Through each vicissitude of loss and gain, Linked in entire complacence with her choice; When Youth's presumptuousness is mellowed down, And Manhood's vain anxiety dismissed; When Wisdom shows her seasonable fruit, Upon the boughs of sheltering Leisure hung In sober plenty; when the spirit stoops To drink with gratitude the crystal stream Of unreproved enjoyment; and is pleased. To muse, and be saluted by the air Of meek repentance, wafting wall-flower scents From out the crumbling ruins of fallen Pride And chambers of Transgression, now forlorn. O, calm contented days, and peaceful nights! Who, when such good can be obtained, would strive To reconcile his Manhood to a couch Soft, as may seem, but, under that disguise, Stuffed with the thorny substance of the past, For fixed annoyance; and full oft beset With floating dreams, disconsolate and black, The vapoury phantoms of futurity? "Within the soul a Faculty abides, That with interpositions, which would hide And darken, so can deal, that they become Contingencies of pomp; and serve to exalt Her native brightness. As the ample Moon, In the deep stillness of a summer Even Rising behind a thick and lofty grove, Burns like an unconsuming fire of light, In the green trees; and, kindling on all sides Their leafy umbrage, turns the dusky veil Into a substance glorious as her own, Yea with her own incorporated, by power, Capacious and serene; like power abides In Man's celestial Spirit; Virtue thus Sets forth and magnifies herself; thus feeds A calm, a beautiful, and silent fire, From the encumbrances of mortal life, From error, disappointment, — nay, from guilt And sometimes, so relenting Justice wills, From palpable oppressions of Despair." The Solitary by these words was touched With manifest emotion, and exclaimed,

--

This single act is all that we demand.
Alas! such wisdom bids a Creature fly
Whose very sorrow is, that time hath shorn
His natural wings! - To Friendship let him turn
For succour; but perhaps he sits alone

On stormy waters, in a little Boat

That holds but hin, and can contain no more!
Religion tells of amity sublime

Which no condition can preclude; of One
Who sees all suffering, comprehends all wants,
All weakness fathoms, can supply all needs;
But is that bounty absolute? - His gifts,
Are they not still, in some degree, rewards
For acts of service? Can his Love extend

To hearts that own not Him? Will showers of grace
When in the sky no promise may be seen,

Fall to refresh a parched and withered land?
Or shall the groaning Spirit cast her load
At the Redeemer's feet?"

In rueful tone,

With some impatience in his mien, he spake;
Back to my mind rushed all that had been urged
To calm the Sufferer when his story closed;
I looked for counsel as unbending now;
But a discriminating sympathy
Stooped to this apt reply,-

"As Men from Men

Do, in the constitution of their Souls,
Differ, by mystery not to be explained;
And as we fall by various ways, and sink
One deeper than another, self-condemned,
Through manifold degrees of guilt and shame,
So manifold and various are the ways
Of restoration, fashioned to the steps
Of all infirmity, and tending all

To the same point, attainable by all;
Peace in ourselves, and union with our God.
For you, assuredly, a hopeful road

Lies open: we have heard from You a voice
At every moment softened in its course
By tenderness of heart; have seen your Eye,
Even like an Altar lit by fire from Heaven,
Kindle before us. — Your discourse this day,
That, like the fabled Lethe, wished to flow
In creeping sadness, through oblivious shades
Of death and night, has caught at every turn
The colours of the Sun. Access for you
Is yet preserved to principles of truth,
Which the Imaginative Will upholds
In seats of wisdom, not to be approached
By the inferior faculty that moulds,
With her minute and speculative.pains,
Opinion, ever changing! - I have seen
A curious Child, who dwelt upon a tract

Of inland ground, applying to his ear
The convolutions of a smooth-lipped Shell;
To which, in silence hushed, his very soul

Listened intensely; and his countenance soon
Brightened with joy; for murmurings from within
Were heard, sonorous cadences! whereby
To his belief, the Monitor expressed
Mysterious union with its native Sea.*
Even such a Shell the Universe itself

Is to the ear of Faith; and there are times,
I doubt not, when to You it doth impart
Authentic tidings of invisible things;
Of ebb and flow, and ever-during power;
And central peace, subsisting at the heart
Of endless agitation. Here you stand,
Adore, and worship, when you know it not;
Pious beyond the intention of your thought;
Devout above the meaning of your will.

Yes, you have felt, and may not cease to feel.
The estate of Man would be indeed forlorn
If false conclusions of the reasoning Power
Made the Eye blind, and closed the passages
Through which the Ear converses with the heart.
Has not the Soul, the Being of your Life,
Received a shock of awful consciousness,
In some calm scuson, when these lofty Rocks

At night's approach bring down the unclouded Sky,
To rest upon their circumambient walls;
A Temple framing of dimensions vast,
And yet not too enormous for the sound
Of human anthems, · choral song, or burst
Sublime of instrumental harmony,
To glorify the Eternal!

What if these

Did never break the stillness that prevails
Here, if the solemn Nightingale be mute,
And the soft Woodlark here did never chant
Her vespers, Nature fails not to provide
Impulse and utterance. The whispering Air
Sends inspiration from the shadowy heights,
And blind recesses of the caverned rocks;
The little Rills, and Waters numberless,
Inaudible by daylight, blend their notes
With the loud Streams: and often, at the hour
When issue forth the first pale Stars, is heard,
Within the circuit of this Fabric huge,
One Voice the solitary Raven, flying
Athwart the concave of the dark-blue dome,
Unseen, perchance above all power of sight-
An iron knell! with echoes from afar

Who, in this spirit, communes with the Forms
Of Nature, who with understanding heart
Doth know and love such Objects as excite
No morbid passions, no disquietude,

No vengeance, and no hatred, needs must feel
The joy of that pure principle of Love
So deeply, that, unsatisfied with aught
Less pure and exquisite, he cannot choose
But seek for objects of a kindred love
In Fellow-natures and a kindred joy.
Accordingly he by degrees perceives
His feelings of aversion softened down;
A holy tenderness pervade his frame.
His sanity of reason not impaired,

Say rather, all his thoughts now flowing clear,
From a clear Fountain flowing, he looks round
And seeks for good; and finds the good he seeks:
Until abhorrence and contempt are things
He only knows by name; and, if he hear,

From other mouths, the language which they speak, He is compassionate; and has no thought,

No feeling, which can overcome his love.

"And further; by contemplating these Forms

In the relations which they bear to Man,

He shall discern, how, through the various means
Which silently they yield, are multiplied
The spiritual Presences of absent Things.

Trust me, that for the Instructed, time will come
When they shall meet no object but may teach
Some acceptable lesson to their minds
Of human suffering, or of human joy.

So shall they learn, while all things speak of Man,
Their duties from all forms; and general laws,
And local accidents, shall tend alike

To rouse, to urge; and, with the will, confer
The ability to spread the blessings wide
Of true philanthropy. The light of love
Not failing, perseverance from their steps
Departing not, for them shall be confirmed
The glorious habit by which Sense is made
Subservient still to moral purposes,
Auxiliar to divine. That change shall clothe
The naked Spirit, ceasing to deplore
The burthen of existence. Science then
Shall be a precious Visitant; and then,
And only then, be worthy of her name.

For then her Heart shall kindle; her dull Eye,
Dull and inanimate, no more shall hang
Chained to its object in brute slavery;
But taught with patient interest to watch
The processes of things, and serve the cause
Of order and distinctness, not for this
Shall it forget that its most noble use,
Its most illustrious province, must be found
In furnishing clear guidance, a support

-

Not treacherous to the Mind's excursive Power.
So build we up the Being that we are;
Thus deeply drinking-in the Soul of Things,
We shall be wise perforce; and while inspired
By choice, and conscious that the Will is free,
Unswerving shall we move, as if impelled
By strict necessity, along the path
Of order and of good. Whate'er we see,
Whate'er we feel, by agency direct
Or indirect, shall tend to feed and nurse
Our faculties, shall fix in calmer seats
Of moral strength, and raise to loftier heights
Of love divine, our intellectual soul."

Here closed the Sage that eloquent harangue,
Poured forth with fervour in continuous stream;
Such as, remote, 'inid savage wilderness,
An Indian Chief discharges from his breast

Into the hearing of assembled Tribes,
In open circle seated round, and hushed
As the unbreathing air, when not a leaf
Stirs in the mighty woods. So did he speak:
The words he uttered shall not pass away;
For they sank into me—the bounteous gift
Of One whom time and nature had made wise,
Gracing his language with authority
Which hostile spirits silently allow;
Of One accustomed to desires that feed
On fruitage gathered from the Tree of Life;
To hopes on knowledge and experience built;
Of One in whom persuasion and belief
Had ripened into faith, and faith become
A passionate intuition; whence the Sou!,
Though bound to Earth by ties of pity and love,
From all injurious servitude was free.

The Sun, before his place of rs were reached
Had yet to travel far, but unto us,

To us who stood low in that hollow Dell,
He had become invisible, a pomp
Leaving behind of yellow radiance spread
Upon the mountain sides, in contrast bold
With ample shadows, seemingly, no less
Than those resplendent lights, his rich bequest,
A dispensation of his evening power.
-Adown the path that from the Glen har led
The funeral Train, the Shepherd and his Mete
Were seen descending; - forth to greet them ra
Our little Page; the rustic Pair approach;
And in the Matron's aspect may be read

A plain assurance 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 slept,
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,

Acknowledgments of gratitude sincere
Accompanied these musings; - fervent thanks
For my own peaceful lot and happy choice;
A choice that from the passions of the world
Withdrew, and fixed me in a still retreat,
Sheltered, but not to social duties lost,
Secluded, but not buried; and with song
Cheering my days, and with industrious thought,
With ever-welcome company of books,

By virtuous friendship's soul-sustaining aid,
And with the blessings of domestic love.

Thus occupied in mind I paced along,
Following the rugged road, by sledge or wheel
Worn in the moorland, till I overtook

My two Associates, in the morning sunshine
Halting together on a rocky knoll,
From which the road descended rapidly
To the green meadows of another Vale.

Here did our pensive Host put forth his hand
In sign of farewell. "Nay," the Old Man said,
"The fragrant Air its coolness still retains;
The Herds and Flocks are yet abroad to crop
The dewy grass; you cannot leave us now,
We must not part at this inviting hour."
He yielded, though reluctant; for his Mind
Instinctively disposed him to retire
To his own Covert; as a billow, heaved
Upon the beach, rolls back into the Sea.

So we descend; and winding round a rock Attain a point that showed the Valley - stretched In length before us; and, not distant far, Upon a rising ground a gray Church-tower, Whose battlements were screened by tufted trees. And, towards a crystal Mere, that lay beyond Among steep hills and woods embosomed, flowed A copious Stream with boldly-winding course; Here traceable, there hidden - there again To sight restored, and glittering in the Sun. On the Stream's bank, and everywhere, appeared Fair Dwellings, single, or in social knots; Some scattered o'er the level, others perched On the hill sides, a cheerful quiet scene, Now in its morning purity arrayed.

66

"As, 'mid some happy Valley of the Alps,"
Said I, once happy, ere tyrannic Power,
Wantonly breaking in upon the Swiss,
Destroyed their unoffending Commonwealth,
A popular equality reigns here,

Save for one House of State beneath whose roof
A rural Lord might dwell."-"No feudal pomp,"
Replied our Friend, a Chronicler who stood
Where'er he moved upon familiar ground,
"Nor feudal power is there; but there abides,
In his allotted Home, a genuine Priest,
The Shepherd of his Flock; or, as a King

This said, oft halting we pursued our way;
Nor reached the Village Churchyard till the sun,
Travelling at steadier pace than ours, had risen
Above the summits of the highest hills,
And round our path darted oppressive beams.

As chanced, the Portals of the sacred Pile
Stood open, and we entered. On my frame,
At such transition from the fervid air,
A grateful coolness fell, that seemed to strike
The heart, in concert with that temperate awe
And natural reverence, which the Place inspired.
Not raised in nice proportions was the Pile,
But large and massy; for duration built;
With pillars crowded, and the roof upheld

By naked rafters intricately crossed,