book i

. l. 159--

But I have sinuous shells of pearly hue Within, and they that lustre have imbibed In the Sun's palace-porch, where when unyoked His chariot-wheel stands midway in the wave: Shake one and it awakens, then apply Its polish'd lips to your attentive ear, And it remembers its august abodes, And murmurs as the ocean murmurs there.

Compare also the Fenwick note to the _Evening Voluntary_, beginning--

What mischief cleaves ED. ]

[Footnote FV: The nightingale is not heard farther north than the Trent valley, and there are no woodlarks in the Lake country, as hawks are numerous.--ED.]

[Footnote FW: See note FV on previous page.]

[Footnote FX: The following occurs in Dorothy Wordsworth's Grasmere Journal, July 27, 1800:--"After tea we rowed down to Loughrigg Fell, visited the white foxglove, gathered wild strawberries, and walked up to view Rydale. We lay a long time looking at the lake; the shores all dim with the scorching sun. The ferns were turning yellow, that is, here and there one was quite turned. We walked round by Benson's wood home. The lake was now most still, and reflected the beautiful yellow and blue and purple and grey colours of the sky. We heard a strange sound in the Bainriggs wood, as we were floating on the water: it _seemed_ in the wood, but it must have been above it, for presently we saw a raven very high above us. It called out, and the dome of the sky seemed to echo the sound. It called again and again as it flew onwards, and the mountains gave back the sound, seeming as if from their centre; a musical bell-like answering to the bird's hoarse voice. We heard both the call of the bird, and the echo, after we could see him no longer."

Compare the Fenwick note to the _Evening Voluntary_ (1834), beginning--

The leaves that rustled on this oak-crowned hill. ED. ]

Book Fifth

THE PASTOR

ARGUMENT

_Farewell to the Valley--Reflections--A large and populous Vale described[417]--The Pastor's Dwelling, and some account of him[418]--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[419]--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 him--Suggestion 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 observation 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 Churchyard--Graves of unbaptised Infants[420]--Funeral and sepulchral observances, whence--Ecclesiastical Establishments, whence derived--Profession of belief in the doctrine of Immortality_

"Farewell, deep Valley, with thy one rude House, And its small lot of life-supporting fields, And guardian rocks!--Farewell, attractive seat![421] To the still influx of the morning light Open, and[422] day's pure cheerfulness, but veiled 5 From human observation,[FZ] 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 10 For quietness profound!" Upon the side Of that brown ridge, sole outlet of the vale[GA] Which foot of boldest stranger would attempt, Lingering[423] behind my comrades, thus I breathed A parting tribute to a spot that seemed 15 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[424] 20 To seek that comfort which the mind denies; Yet trial and temptation oft are shunned Wisely; and by such tenure[425] do we hold Frail life's possessions, that even they whose fate Yields no peculiar reason of complaint 25 Might, by the promise that is here, be won To steal from active duties, and embrace Obscurity, and undisturbed repose.[426] --Knowledge, methinks, in these disordered times, Should be allowed a privilege to have 30 Her anchorites, like piety of old;[GB] Men, who, from faction sacred, and unstained By war, might, if so minded, turn aside Uncensured, and subsist, a scattered few Living to God and nature, and content 35 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 40 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 45 His unobtrusive merit; but his life, Sweet to himself, was exercised in good That shall survive his name and memory.

Acknowledgments of gratitude sincere Accompanied these musings; fervent thanks 50 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 55 Cheering my days, and with industrious thought; With the ever-welcome[427] company of books; With[428] virtuous friendship's soul-sustaining aid, And with the blessings of domestic love.

Thus occupied in mind I paced along, 60 Following the rugged road, by sledge or wheel Worn in the moorland,[GC] till I overtook My two Associates, in the morning sunshine Halting together on a rocky knoll, Whence the bare road[429] descended rapidly 65 To the green meadows of another vale.[GD]

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 70 The dewy grass; you cannot leave us now, We must not part at this inviting hour." He yielded,[430] though reluctant; for his mind Instinctively disposed him to retire To his own covert; as a billow, heaved 75 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;[GE] and, not distant far, Upon a rising ground a grey church-tower,(GE) 80 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 85 To sight restored, and glittering in the sun. On the stream's bank, and every where, appeared Fair dwellings, single, or in social knots; Some scattered o'er the level, others perched On the hill sides, a cheerful quiet scene, 90 Now in its morning purity arrayed.

"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, 95 A popular equality reigns here, Save for yon stately House[GF] beneath whose roof A rural lord might dwell."--"No feudal pomp, Or power," replied the Wanderer, "to that House Belongs, but there in his allotted Home 100 Abides, from year to year, a genuine Priest,[431] The shepherd of his flock; or, as a king Is styled, when most affectionately praised, The father of his people. Such is he; And rich and poor, and young and old, rejoice 105 Under his spiritual sway. He hath vouchsafed[432] To me some portion of a[433] kind regard; And something also of his inner mind Hath he imparted--but I speak of him As he is known to all. The calm delights 110 Of unambitious piety he chose, And learning's solid dignity; though born Of knightly race, nor wanting powerful friends. Hither,[434] in prime of manhood, he withdrew From academic bowers. He loved the spot-- 115 Who does not love his native soil?--he prized The ancient rural character, composed Of simple manners, feelings unsupprest And undisguised, and strong and serious thought; A character reflected in himself, 120 With such embellishment as well beseems His rank and sacred function. This deep vale Winds far in reaches hidden from our sight, And one a turreted manorial hall Adorns, in which the good Man's ancestors 125 Have dwelt through ages--Patrons of this Cure. To them, and to his own judicious pains,[435] The Vicar's dwelling, and the whole domain, Owes that presiding aspect which might well Attract your notice; statelier than could else 130 Have been bestowed, through[436] course of common chance, On an unwealthy mountain Benefice."

This said, oft pausing,[437] we pursued our way; Nor reached the village-churchyard[GG] till the sun Travelling at steadier pace than ours, had risen 135 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, 140 A grateful coolness fell, that seemed to strike The heart, in concert with that temperate awe And natural reverence which the place inspired.[GH] Not raised in[438] nice proportions was the pile; But large and massy; for duration built; 145 With pillars crowded, and the roof upheld By naked rafters intricately crossed, Like leafless underboughs, in some thick wood,[439] All withered by the depth of shade above. Admonitory texts inscribed the walls, 150 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 155 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, 160 Varying its tincture with the changeful light, Imbued the altar-window; fixed aloft A faded hatchment hung, and one by time Yet undiscoloured.[440] A capacious pew Of sculptured oak stood here, with drapery lined; 165 And marble monuments were here displayed Thronging the walls;[441] 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.[GI] 170

The tribute by these various records claimed, Duly we paid, each after each, and read[442] The ordinary chronicle of birth, Office, alliance, and promotion--all Ending in dust; of upright magistrates, 175 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 180 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, 185 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 190 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 195 Endeared to him, for this,[443] 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 200 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 In modest panegyric. "These dim lines, 205 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 210 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 215 That leans upon a monumental urn In peace, from morn to night, from year to year.

Him from that posture did the Sexton rouse; Who entered, humming carelessly a tune,[GJ] Continuation haply of the notes 220 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 225 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.[GK] On the moss-grown wall 230 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, 234 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.[GL] And did you hear his voice?[444] I was abruptly summoned by the sound[445] From some affecting images and thoughts, 240 Which then were silent; but crave utterance now.

"Much," he continued, with dejected look, "Much, yesterday,[446] was said in glowing phrase Of our sublime dependencies, and hopes For future states of being; and the wings 245 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 250 Of what it holds could speak, and every grave Were as a volume, shut, yet capable Of yielding its contents to eye and ear, We should recoil, stricken with sorrow and shame, To see disclosed, by such dread proof, how ill 255 That which is done accords with what is known To reason, and by conscience is enjoined; How idly, how perversely, life's whole course, To this conclusion, deviates from the line, Or of the end stops short, proposed to all 260 At her[447] aspiring outset. "Mark the babe Not long accustomed to this breathing world; One that hath barely learned to shape a smile, Though yet irrational of soul, to grasp With tiny finger[448]--to let fall a tear; 265 And, as the heavy cloud of sleep dissolves, To stretch his limbs, bemocking, as might seem, The outward functions of intelligent man; A grave proficient in amusive feats Of puppetry, that from the lap declare 270 His expectations, and announce his claims To that inheritance which millions rue That they were ever born to! In due time A day of solemn ceremonial comes; When they, who for this Minor hold in trust 275 Rights that transcend the loftiest[449] heritage Of mere humanity, present their Charge, For this occasion daintily adorned, At the baptismal font. And when the pure And consecrating element hath cleansed 280 The original stain, the child is there received Into the second ark, Christ's church, with trust That he, from wrath redeemed, therein shall float Over the billows of this troublesome world To the fair land of everlasting life. 285 Corrupt affections, covetous desires, Are all renounced; high as the thought of man Can carry virtue, virtue is professed; A dedication made, a promise given For due provision to control and guide, 290 And unremitting progress to ensure In holiness and truth." "You cannot blame," Here interposing fervently I said, "Rites which attest that Man by nature lies Bedded for good and evil in a gulf 295 Fearfully low; nor will your judgment scorn Those services, whereby attempt is made To lift the creature toward[450] that eminence On which, now fallen, erewhile in majesty He stood; or if not so, whose top serene 300 At least he feels 'tis given him to descry; Not without aspirations, evermore Returning, and injunctions from within Doubt to cast off and weariness; in trust That what the Soul perceives, if glory lost, 305 May be, through pains and persevering hope, Recovered; or, if hitherto unknown, Lies within reach, and one day shall be gained."

"I blame them not," he calmly answered--"no; The outward ritual and established forms 310 With which communities of men invest These inward feelings, and the aspiring vows To which the lips give public utterance Are both a natural process; and by me Shall pass uncensured; though the issue prove, 315 Bringing from age to age its own reproach, Incongruous, impotent, and blank.--But, oh! If to be weak is to be wretched--miserable,[GM] As the lost Angel by a human voice Hath mournfully pronounced, then, in my mind, 320 Far better not to move at all than move By impulse sent from such illusive power,-- That finds and cannot fasten down; that grasps And is rejoiced, and loses while it grasps; That tempts, emboldens--for a time sustains,[451] 325 And then betrays; accuses and inflicts Remorseless punishment; and so retreads The inevitable circle; better far Than this, to graze the herb in thoughtless peace, By foresight or remembrance, undisturbed! 330

"Philosophy! and thou more vaunted name Religion! with thy statelier retinue, Faith, Hope, and Charity--from the visible world Choose for your emblems whatsoe'er ye find Of safest guidance or[452] of firmest trust-- 335 The torch, the star, the anchor; nor except The cross itself, at whose unconscious feet The generations of mankind have knelt Ruefully seized, and shedding bitter tears, And through that conflict seeking rest--of you, 340 High-titled Powers, am I constrained to ask, Here standing, with the unvoyageable sky In faint reflection of infinitude Stretched overhead, and at my pensive feet A subterraneous magazine of bones, 345 In whose dark vaults my own shall soon be laid, Where are your triumphs? your dominion where? And in what age admitted and confirmed? --Not for a happy land do I enquire, Island or grove, that hides a blessed few 350 Who, with obedience willing and sincere, To your serene authorities conform; But whom, I ask, of individual Souls, Have ye withdrawn from passion's crooked ways, Inspired, and thoroughly fortified?--If the heart 355 Could be inspected to its inmost folds By sight undazzled with the glare of praise, Who shall be named--in the resplendent line Of sages, martyrs, confessors--the man Whom the best might of faith, wherever fix'd,[453] 360 For one day's little compass, has preserved From painful and discreditable shocks Of contradiction, from some vague desire Culpably cherished, or corrupt relapse To some unsanctioned fear?" "If this be so, 365 And Man," said I, "be in his noblest shape Thus pitiably infirm; then, he who made, And who shall judge the creature, will forgive. --Yet, in its general tenor, your complaint Is all too true; and surely not misplaced: 370 For, from this pregnant spot of ground, such thoughts Rise to the notice of a serious mind By natural exhalation. With the dead In their repose, the living in their mirth, Who can reflect, unmoved, upon the round 375 Of smooth and solemnized complacencies, By which, on Christian lands, from age to age Profession mocks performance? Earth is sick, And Heaven is weary, of the hollow words Which States and Kingdoms utter when they talk 380 Of truth and justice. Turn to private life And social neighbourhood; look we to ourselves; A light of duty shines on every day For all; and yet how few are warmed or cheered! How few who mingle with their fellow-men 385 And still remain self-governed, and apart, Like this our honoured Friend; and thence acquire Right to expect his vigorous decline, That promises to the end a blest old age!"

"Yet," with a smile of triumph thus exclaimed 390 The Solitary, "in the life of man, If to the poetry of common speech Faith may be given, we see as in a glass A true reflection of the circling year, With all its seasons. Grant that Spring is there, 395 In spite of many a rough untoward blast, Hopeful and promising with buds and flowers; Yet where is glowing Summer's long rich day, That _ought_ to follow faithfully expressed? And mellow Autumn, charged with bounteous fruit, 400 Where is she imaged? in what favoured clime Her lavish pomp, and ripe magnificence? --Yet, while the better part is missed, the worse In man's autumnal season is set forth With a resemblance not to be denied, 405 And that contents him; bowers that hear no more The voice of gladness, less and less supply Of outward sunshine and internal warmth; And, with this change, sharp air and falling leaves, Foretelling aged Winter's desolate sway.[454] 410

"How gay the habitations that bedeck[455] This fertile valley! Not a house but seems To give assurance of content within;[GN] Embosomed happiness, and placid love; As if the sunshine of the day were met 415 With answering brightness in the hearts of all Who walk this favoured ground. But chance-regards, And notice forced upon incurious ears; These, if these only, acting in despite Of the encomiums by my Friend pronounced 420 On humble life, forbid the judging mind To trust the smiling aspect of this fair And noiseless commonwealth. The simple race Of mountaineers (by nature's self removed From foul temptations, and by constant care 425 Of a good shepherd tended as themselves Do tend their flocks) partake man's general lot[456] With little mitigation. They escape, Perchance, the heavier woes of guilt; feel not[457] The tedium of fantastic idleness: 430 Yet life, as with the multitude, with them Is fashioned like an ill-constructed tale; That on the outset wastes its gay desires, Its fair adventures, its enlivening hopes, And pleasant interests--for the sequel leaving 435 Old things repeated with diminished grace; And all the laboured novelties at best Imperfect substitutes, whose use and power Evince the want and weakness whence they spring."

While in this serious mood we held discourse, 440 The reverend Pastor toward[458] the church-yard gate Approached; and, with a mild respectful air Of native cordiality, our Friend Advanced to greet him. With a gracious mien Was he received, and mutual joy prevailed. 445 Awhile they stood in conference, and I guess That he, who now upon the mossy wall Sate by my side, had vanished, if a wish Could have transferred him to the flying clouds, Or the least penetrable hiding-place 450 In his own valley's rocky guardianship.[459] --For me, I looked upon the pair, well pleased: Nature had framed them both, and both were marked By circumstance, with intermixture fine Of contrast and resemblance. To an oak 455 Hardy and grand, a weather-beaten oak, Fresh in the strength and majesty of age, One might be likened: flourishing appeared, Though somewhat past the fulness of his prime, The other--like a stately sycamore,[GO] 460 That spreads, in gentle[460] pomp, its honied shade.

A general greeting was exchanged; and soon The Pastor learned that his approach had given A welcome interruption to discourse Grave, and in truth too[461] often sad.--"Is Man 465 A child of hope? Do generations press On generations, without progress made? Halts the individual, ere his hairs be grey, Perforce? Are we a creature in whom good Preponderates, or evil? Doth the will 470 Acknowledge reason's law? A living power Is virtue, or no better than a name, Fleeting as health or beauty, and unsound? So that the only substance which remains, (For thus the tenor of complaint hath run) 475 Among so many shadows, are the pains And penalties of miserable life, Doomed to decay, and then expire in dust! --Our cogitations this way have been drawn, 479 These are the points," the Wanderer said, "on which Our inquest turns.--Accord, good Sir! the light Of your experience to dispel this gloom: By your persuasive wisdom shall the heart That frets, or languishes, be stilled and cheered.

"Our nature," said the Priest, in mild reply, 485 "Angels may weigh and fathom: they perceive, With undistempered and unclouded spirit, The object as it is; but, for ourselves, That speculative height _we_ may not reach. The good and evil are our own; and we 490 Are that which we would contemplate from far. Knowledge, for us, is difficult to gain-- Is difficult to gain, and hard to keep-- As virtue's self; like virtue is beset With snares; tried, tempted, subject to decay. 495 Love, admiration, fear, desire, and hate, Blind were we without these; through these alone Are capable to notice or discern Or to record; we judge, but cannot be Indifferent judges. 'Spite of proudest boast, 500 Reason, best reason, is to imperfect man An effort only, and a noble aim; A crown, an attribute of sovereign power, Still to be courted--never to be won. --Look forth, or each man dive into himself; 505 What sees he but a creature too perturbed; That is transported to excess; that yearns, Regrets, or trembles, wrongly, or too much; Hopes rashly, in disgust as rash recoils; Battens on spleen, or moulders in despair? 510 Thus comprehension fails, and truth is missed; Thus darkness[462] and delusion round our path Spread, from disease, whose subtle injury lurks Within the very faculty of sight.

"Yet for the general purposes of faith 515 In Providence, for solace and support, We may not doubt that who can best subject The will to reason's law, can[463] strictliest live And act in that obedience, he shall gain The clearest apprehension of those truths, 520 Which unassisted reason's utmost power Is too infirm to reach. But, waiving this, And our regards confining within bounds Of less exalted consciousness, through which The very multitude are free to range, 525 We safely may affirm that human life Is either fair and[464] tempting, a soft scene Grateful to sight, refreshing to the soul, Or a forbidden[465] tract of cheerless view; Even as the same is looked at, or approached. 530 Thus, when in changeful April fields are white With new-fallen snow, if from the sullen north Your walk conduct you hither, ere the sun Hath gained his noontide height, this churchyard, filled With mounds[466] transversely lying side by side 535 From east to west, before you will appear An unillumined, blank, and dreary, plain,[467] With more than wintry cheerlessness and gloom Saddening the heart. Go forward, and look back; Look,[468] from the quarter whence the lord of light, 540 Of life, of love, and gladness doth dispense His beams; which, unexcluded in their fall, Upon the southern side of every grave Have gently exercised a melting power; _Then_ will a vernal prospect greet your eye, 545 All fresh and beautiful, and green and bright, Hopeful and cheerful:--vanished is the pall That overspread and chilled the sacred turf, Vanished or hidden;[469] and the whole domain, To some, too lightly minded, might appear 550 A meadow carpet for the dancing hours.[GP] --This contrast, not unsuitable to life, Is to that other state more apposite, Death and its two-fold aspect! wintry--one, Cold, sullen, blank, from hope and joy shut out; 555 The other, which the ray divine hath touched, Replete with vivid promise, bright as spring."

"We see, then, as we feel," the Wanderer thus With a complacent animation spake, "And in your judgment, Sir! the mind's repose 560 On evidence is not to be ensured By act of naked reason. Moral truth Is no mechanic structure, built by rule; And which, once built, retains a stedfast shape And undisturbed proportions; but a thing 565 Subject, you deem, to vital accidents; And, like the water-lily, lives and thrives, Whose root is fixed in stable earth, whose head Floats on the tossing waves. With joy sincere I re-salute these sentiments confirmed 570 By your authority. But how acquire The inward principle that gives effect To outward argument; the passive will Meek to admit; the active energy, Strong and unbounded to embrace, and firm 575 To keep and cherish? how shall man unite With[470] self-forgetting tenderness of heart An[471] earth-despising dignity of soul? Wise in that union, and without it blind!"

"The way," said I, "to court, if not obtain 580 The ingenuous mind, apt to be set aright; This, in the lonely dell discoursing, you Declared at large; and by what exercise From visible nature, or the inner self Power may be trained, and renovation brought 585 To those who need the gift. But, after all, Is aught so certain as that man is doomed To breathe beneath a vault of ignorance? The natural roof of that dark house in which His soul is pent! How little can be known-- 590 This is the wise man's sigh; how far we err-- This is the good man's not unfrequent pang! And they perhaps err least, the lowly class Whom a benign necessity compels To follow reason's least ambitious course; 595 Such do I mean who, unperplexed by doubt, And unincited by a wish to look Into high objects farther than they may, Pace to and fro, from morn till even-tide, The narrow avenue of daily toil 600 For daily bread." "Yes," buoyantly exclaimed The pale Recluse--"praise to the sturdy plough, And patient spade; praise to the simple crook,[472] And ponderous loom--resounding while it holds Body and mind in one captivity; 605 And let the light mechanic tool be hailed With honour; which, encasing by the power Of long companionship, the artist's hand, Cuts off that hand, with all its world of nerves, From a too busy commerce with the heart! 610 --Inglorious implements of craft and toil, Both ye that shape and build, and ye that force, By slow solicitation, earth to yield Her annual bounty, sparingly dealt forth With wise reluctance; you would I extol, 615 Not for gross good alone which ye produce, But for the impertinent and ceaseless strife Of proofs and reasons ye preclude--in those Who to your dull society are born, And with their humble birthright rest content. 620 --Would I had ne'er renounced it!" A slight flush Of moral anger previously had tinged The old Man's cheek; but, at this closing turn Of self-reproach, it passed away. Said he, "That which we feel we utter; as we think 625 So have we argued; reaping for our pains No visible recompense. For our relief You," to the Pastor turning thus he spake, "Have kindly interposed. May I entreat Your further help? The mine of real life 630 Dig for us; and present us, in the shape Of virgin ore, that gold which we, by pains Fruitless as those of aëry alchemists, Seek from the torturing crucible. There lies Around us a domain where you have long 635 Watched both the outward course and inner heart:[473] Give us, for our abstractions, solid facts; For our disputes, plain pictures. Say what man He is who cultivates yon hanging field; What qualities of mind she bears, who comes, 640 For morn and evening service, with her pail, To that green pasture;[GQ] place before our sight The family who dwell within yon house Fenced round with glittering laurel;[GR] or in that Below, from which the curling smoke ascends. 645 Or rather, as we stand on holy earth, And have the dead around us,[GS] take from them Your instances; for they are both best known, And by frail man most equitably judged. Epitomise the life; pronounce, you can, 650 Authentic epitaphs on some of these Who, from their lowly mansions hither brought, Beneath this turf lie mouldering at our feet: So, by your records, may our doubts be solved; And so, not searching higher, we may learn 655 _To prize the breath we share with human kind; And look upon the dust of man with awe._"[474]

The Priest replied--"An office you impose For which peculiar requisites are mine; Yet much, I feel, is wanting--else the task 660 Would be most grateful. True indeed it is That they whom death has hidden from our sight Are worthiest of the mind's regard; with these The future cannot contradict the past: Mortality's last exercise and proof 665 Is undergone; the transit made that shows The very Soul, revealed as she[475] departs. Yet, on your first suggestion, will I give, Ere we descend into these silent vaults, One picture from the living. "You behold, 670 High on the breast of yon dark mountain, dark With stony barrenness,[GT] a shining speck Bright as a sunbeam sleeping till a shower Brush it away, or cloud pass over it; 674 And such it might be deemed--a sleeping sunbeam; But 'tis a plot of cultivated ground, Cut off, an island in the dusky waste; And that attractive brightness is its own. The lofty site, by nature framed to tempt Amid a wilderness of rocks and stones 680 The tiller's hand, a hermit might have chosen, For opportunity presented, thence Far forth to send his wandering eye o'er land And ocean, and look down upon the works, The habitations, and the ways of men, 685 Himself unseen! But no tradition tells That ever hermit dipped his maple dish In the sweet spring that lurks 'mid yon green fields; And no such visionary views belong To those who occupy and till the ground, 690 High on that mountain where they long have dwelt[476] A wedded pair in childless solitude. A house of stones collected on the spot, By rude hands built, with rocky knolls in front, Backed also by a ledge of rock, whose crest 695 Of birch-trees waves over the chimney top; A rough abode--in colour, shape, and size,[477] Such as in unsafe times of border-war Might have been wished for and contrived, to elude The eye of roving plunderer--for their need 700 Suffices; and unshaken bears the assault Of their most dreaded foe, the strong South-west In anger blowing from the distant sea. --Alone within her solitary hut; There, or within the compass of her fields, 705 At any moment may the Dame be found, True as the stock-dove to her shallow nest And to the grove that holds it. She beguiles By intermingled work of house and field The summer's day, and winter's; with success 710 Not equal, but sufficient to maintain, Even at the worst, a smooth stream of content, Until the expected hour at which her Mate From the far-distant quarry's vault returns; And by his converse crowns a silent day 715 With evening cheerfulness. In powers of mind, In scale of culture, few among my flock[478] Hold lower rank than this sequestered pair: But true humility descends from heaven;[479] And that best gift of heaven hath fallen on them; 720 Abundant recompense for every want. --Stoop from your height, ye proud, and copy these! Who, in their noiseless dwelling-place, can hear The voice of wisdom whispering scripture texts For the mind's government, or temper's peace; 725 And recommending for their mutual need, Forgiveness, patience, hope, and charity!"

"Much was I pleased," the grey-haired Wanderer said, "When to those shining fields our notice first You turned; and yet more pleased have from your lips Gathered this fair report of them[480] who dwell 731 In that retirement; whither, by such course Of evil hap and good as oft awaits A tired way-faring man, once _I_ was brought While traversing alone yon mountain pass. 735 Dark on my road the autumnal evening fell,[481] And night succeeded with unusual gloom,[482] So hazardous that feet and hands became[483] Guides better than mine eyes--until a light High in the gloom appeared, too high, methought, 740 For human habitation; but I longed To reach it, destitute of other hope. I looked with steadiness as sailors look On the north star, or watch-tower's distant lamp, And saw the light--now fixed--and shifting now--[GU] 745 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[484]--some friendly covert must be near. With this persuasion thitherward my steps 750 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, (The same kind Matron whom your tongue hath praised) Alarm and disappointment! The alarm 755 Ceased, when she learned through what mishap I came, And by what help had gained those distant fields. Drawn from her cottage, on that aëry[485] height, Bearing a lantern in her hand she stood, Or paced the ground--to guide her Husband home, 760 By that unwearied signal, kenned afar;[GV] An anxious duty! which the lofty site, Traversed but by a few irregular paths,[486] Imposes, whensoe'er untoward chance Detains him after his accustomed hour 765 Till night lies black upon the ground. 'But come, Come,' said the Matron, 'to our poor abode; Those dark rocks hide it!'[487] Entering, I beheld A blazing fire--beside a cleanly hearth Sate down; and to her office, with leave asked, 770 The Dame returned. "Or ere[488] that glowing pile Of mountain turf required the builder's hand Its wasted splendour to repair, the door Opened, and she re-entered with glad looks, Her Helpmate following. Hospitable fare, 775 Frank conversation, made the evening's treat: Need a bewildered traveller wish for more? But more was given; I studied as we sate By the bright fire, the good Man's form, and face Not less than beautiful;[489] an open brow 780 Of undisturbed humanity; a cheek Suffused with something of a feminine hue;[GW] Eyes beaming courtesy and mild regard; But, in the quicker turns of the discourse, Expression slowly varying, that evinced 785 A tardy apprehension. From a fount Lost, thought I, in the obscurities of time, But honoured once, those[490] features and that mien May have descended, though I see them here. In such a man, so gentle and subdued, 790 Withal so graceful in his gentleness, A race illustrious for heroic deeds, Humbled, but not degraded, may expire. This pleasing fancy (cherished and upheld By sundry recollections of such fall 795 From high to low, ascent from low to high, As books record, and even the careless mind Cannot but notice among men and things) Went with me to the place of my repose.[491]

"Roused by the crowing cock at dawn of day, 800 I yet had risen too late to interchange A morning salutation with my Host, Gone forth already to the far-off seat Of his day's work. 'Three dark mid-winter months 'Pass,' said the Matron, 'and I never see, 805 '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. 'And, through Heaven's[492] blessing, thus we gain the bread 'For which we pray; and for the wants provide 810 'Of sickness, accident, and helpless age. 'Companions have I many; many friends, 'Dependants, comforters--my wheel, my fire, 'All day the house-clock ticking in mine ear, 'The cackling hen, the tender chicken brood, 815 'And the wild birds that gather round my porch. 'This honest sheep-dog's countenance I read; 'With him can talk; nor blush to[493] waste a word 'On creatures less intelligent and shrewd. 'And if the blustering wind that drives the clouds 820 '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, 'My comfort:--would that they were oftener fixed 'On what, for guidance in the way that leads 825 'To heaven, I know, by my Redeemer taught.' The Matron ended[494]--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 clogged 830 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; 835 For you each evening hath its shining star, And every sabbath-day its golden sun.'"

"Yes!" said the Solitary with a smile That seemed to break from an expanding heart, "The untutored bird may found, and so construct, 840 And with such soft materials line, her nest Fixed in the centre of a prickly brake, That the thorns wound her not; they only guard. Powers not unjustly likened to those gifts Of happy instinct which the woodland bird 845 Shares with her species, nature's grace sometimes Upon the individual doth confer, Among her[495] higher creatures born and trained To use of reason. And, I own that, tired Of the ostentatious world--a swelling stage 850 With empty actions and vain passions stuffed, And from the private struggles of mankind Hoping far[496] less than I could wish to hope, Far less than once I trusted and believed-- I love to hear of those, who, not contending 855 Nor summoned 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 860 And hindrances with which they stand beset. In early youth, among my native hills, I knew a Scottish Peasant who possessed A few small crofts of stone-encumbered ground; Masses of every shape and size, that lay 865 Scattered about under[497] the mouldering walls Of a rough precipice; and some, apart, In quarters unobnoxious to such chance, As if the moon had showered them down in spite. But he repined not. Though the plough was scared 870 By these obstructions, 'round the shady stones A fertilising 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 875 'Herbage that never fails: no grass springs up 'So green, so fresh, so plentiful, as mine!' But[498] thinly sown these natures; rare, at least, The mutual aptitude of seed and soil That yields such kindly product. He, whose bed 880 Perhaps yon loose sods cover, the poor Pensioner Brought yesterday from our sequestered dell Here to lie down in lasting quiet, he, If living now, could otherwise report Of rustic loneliness: that grey-haired Orphan-- 885 So call him, for humanity to him No parent was--feelingly could[499] 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. 890 --But your compliance, Sir! with our request My words too long have hindered." Undeterred, Perhaps incited rather, by these shocks, In no ungracious opposition, given To the confiding spirit of his own 895 Experienced faith, the reverend Pastor said, Around him looking; "Where shall I begin? Who shall be first selected from my flock Gathered together in their peaceful fold?" He paused--and having lifted up his eyes 900 To the pure heaven, he cast them down again Upon the earth beneath his feet; and spake:--

"To a mysteriously-united pair[500] This place is consecrate; to Death and Life, And to the best affections that proceed 905 From their conjunction; consecrate to faith In him who bled for man upon the cross; Hallowed to revelation; and no less[501] To reason's mandates; and the hopes divine Of pure imagination;--above all, 910 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: 915 Even 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, 920 And end their journey in the same repose!

"And blest are they who sleep; and we that know, While in a spot like this we breathe and walk, That all beneath us by the wings are covered Of motherly humanity, outspread 925 And gathering all within their tender shade, Though loth and slow to come! A battle-field, In stillness left when slaughter is no more, With this compared, makes[502] a strange spectacle! A dismal prospect yields the wild shore strewn 930 With wrecks, and trod by feet of young and old Wandering about in miserable search Of friends or kindred,[503] whom the angry sea Restores not to their prayer! Ah! who would think That all the scattered subjects which compose 935 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, the oppressor and the opprest; 940 Tyrants who utter the destroying word, And slaves who will consent to be destroyed-- Were of one species with the sheltered few, Who, with a dutiful and tender hand, Lodged, in a dear appropriated spot,[504] 945 This file of infants; some that never breathed The vital air; others, which, though allowed[505] That privilege, did yet expire too soon, Or with too brief a warning, to admit Administration of the holy rite 950 That lovingly consigns the babe to the 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 955 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, school-boy; the bold youth Of soul impetuous, and the bashful maid 960 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 fixed more firmly, as might seem, And more secure, by very weight of all 965 That, for support, rests on them; the decayed And burthensome; and lastly, that poor few Whose light of reason is with age extinct; The hopeful and the hopeless, first and last, The earliest summoned and the longest spared-- 970 Are here deposited, with tribute paid Various, but unto each some tribute paid;[506] As if, amid these peaceful hills and groves, Society were touched with kind concern, And gentle 'Nature grieved, that one should die;'[GX] Or, if the change demanded no regret, 976 Observed the liberating stroke--and blessed.

"And whence that tribute? wherefore these regards?[GY] Not from the naked _Heart_ alone of Man (Though claiming high[507] distinction upon earth 980 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 985 From the pure soul, the soul sublime and pure; With her two faculties of eye and ear, The one by which a creature, whom his sins Have rendered prone, can upward[508] look to heaven; The other that empowers him to perceive 990 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: 995 Thus are they born, thus fostered, thus[509] maintained; And by the care prospective of our wise Forefathers, who, to guard against the shocks The fluctuation and decay of things, Embodied and established these high truths 1000 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, hollowed out and scooped 1005 For Man's affections--else betrayed and lost, And swallowed 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. 1010 The faith partaking of those holy times, Life, I repeat, is energy of love Divine or human; exercised in pain, In strife, in tribulation; and ordained, If so approved and sanctified, to pass, 1015 Through shades and silent rest, to endless joy."[GZ]

VARIANTS:

[Footnote 417: 1836.

_Sight of a large and populous Vale--Solitary consents to go forward--Vale described_-- 1814. ]

[Footnote 418: 1836.

_The Church-yard_-- 1814. ]

[Footnote 419: _Apology for the Rite_--

First inserted in the edition of 1836.]

[Footnote 420: 1836.

_What sensations they excite_-- 1814. ]

[Footnote 421: 1827.

And guardian rocks!--With unreverted eyes I cannot pass thy bounds, attractive Seat! 1814. ]

[Footnote 422:

Open, to ... MS. ]

[Footnote 423: 1836.

Upon the side Of that brown ridge, sole outlet of the Vale, Lingering 1814.

Of that brown Slope, ... 1827. ]

[Footnote 424: 1836.

... of a troubled World. And now, pursuing leisurely my way, How vain, thought I, it is by change of place 1814. ]

[Footnote 425: 1827.

... tenor ... 1814. ]

[Footnote 426: 1845.

Obscurity, and calm forgetfulness. 1814. ]

[Footnote 427: 1814.

With ever-welcome ... 1827.

The text of 1836 returns to that of 1814.]

[Footnote 428: 1836.

By ... 1814. ]

[Footnote 429: 1845.

From which the road ... 1814. ]

[Footnote 430: 1827.

To that injunction, earnestly expressed, He yielded, ... 1814. ]

[Footnote 431: 1845.

A popular equality doth seem Here to prevail; and yet a House of State Stands yonder, one beneath whose roof, methinks, 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, 1814.

A popular equality reigns here Save for one House of State beneath whose roof A rural Lord ... 1827. ]

[Footnote 432: 1827.

Under his spiritual sway, collected round him In this sequestered Realm. He hath vouchsafed 1814. ]

[Footnote 433: 1827.

... his ... 1814. ]

[Footnote 434: 1827.

This good to reap, these pleasures to secure, Hither, ... 1814. ]

[Footnote 435: 1836.

... This deep vale Is lengthened out by many a winding reach, Not visible to us; and one of these A turretted manorial Hall adorns; In which the good Man's Ancestors have dwelt From age to age, the Patrons of this Cure. To them, and to his decorating hand, 1814.

To them, and to his own judicious hand, MS.

... This deep vale Winds far in reaches hidden from our eyes, 1827. ]

[Footnote 436: 1827.

... in ... 1814. ]

[Footnote 437: 1836.

... halting, ... 1814. ]

[Footnote 438: 1827.

Not framed to ... 1814.

Nor shaped in ... MS. ]

[Footnote 439: 1845.

... in some thick grove, 1814.

... mid some thick grove, 1827. ]

[Footnote 440: 1845.

... the chancel only shewed Some inoffensive marks of earthly state And vain distinction.... 1814.

The Chancel only shewed So privileged of yore, without offence To piety, some marks of earthly state And vain distinction, Allowed by ancient privilege; though in sooth With the pure sanctity the place should breathe But ill according. A capacious pew Of sculptured oak stood here, with drapery lined And curtained closely round. Obnoxious less To blame or unavoidable regret, A high fixed hatchment, time-discoloured, told Of man's mortality and its own decay. C.

Some vain distinctions, an heraldic shield, In tincture varying as the sun might shine, Imbued its eastern window, and aloft A faded hatchment hung, and one by time Yet undiscoloured, marks of earthly state. C. ]

[Footnote 441: 1827.

Upon the walls; ... 1814. ]

[Footnote 442: 1845.

Without reluctance did we pay; and read 1814.

We paid to each with due respect, C. ]

[Footnote 443: 1827.

... and for this Yet more endeared to him, ... 1814. ]

[Footnote 444: 1836.

As unconcerned as when he plants a tree? 1814. ]

[Footnote 445: 1836.

... by his voice 1814. ]

[Footnote 446: 1845.

... images and thoughts, And from the company of serious words. Much, yesterday, ... 1814.

And from the company of serious words, Which then were silent; but crave utterance now. Much," he continued, with dejected looks, "Much, yesterday, ... 1836. ]

[Footnote 447: 1827.

At its ... 1814. ]

[Footnote 448: 1836.

With tiny fingers, ... 1814. ]

[Footnote 449: 1845.

... unblest ... 1814.

... humblest ... 1827. ]

[Footnote 450: 1827.

... tow'rds ... 1814. ]

[Footnote 451: 1836.

... doth a while sustain, 1814. ]

[Footnote 452: 1845.

... and ... 1814. ]

[Footnote 453: 1845.

Whom the best might of Conscience, Truth, and Hope, 1814. ]

[Footnote 454: 1845.

Foretelling total Winter, blank and cold. 1814.

Foretelling aged Winter's dreary sway. 1840.

Prelude to coming Winter's desolate sway. C. ]

[Footnote 455: 1827.

... adorn 1814. ]

[Footnote 456: 1827.

Do tend their flocks, These share Man's general lot 1814. ]

[Footnote 457: 1836.

Perchance, guilt's heavier woes; and do not feel 1814. ]

[Footnote 458: 1827.

... tow'rds ... 1814. ]

[Footnote 459: 1836.

Could have transferred him to his lonely House Within the circuit of those guardian rocks. 1814. ]

[Footnote 460: 1836.

... gentler ... 1814. ]

[Footnote 461: 1827.

... full ... 1814. ]

[Footnote 462: 1836.

Thus truth is missed, and comprehension fails; And darkness ... 1814. ]

[Footnote 463: 1836.

... and ... 1814. ]

[Footnote 464: 1827.

... or ... 1814. ]

[Footnote 465: 1820.

... forbidding ... 1814.

The texts of 1827 to 1843 and that of 1847 return to the text of 1814.]

[Footnote 466: 1836.

... or approached. Permit me," said the Priest continuing, "here To use an illustration of my thought, Drawn from the very spot on which we stand. --In changeful April, when, as he is wont, Winter has reassumed a short lived sway And whitened all the surface of the fields, If--from the sullen region of the North Towards the circuit of this holy ground Your walk conducts you, ere the vigorous sun, High climbing, hath attained his noon-tide height-- These Mounds, ... 1814.

Thus, when in changeful April snow has fallen, And fields are white, if from the sullen north Your walk conduct you hither, ere the Sun Hath gained his noontide height, this churchyard, filled With mounds ... 1827.

... ere vigorous sun MS. ]

[Footnote 467: 1827.

A dreary plain of unillumined snow, 1814. ]

[Footnote 468: 1827.

... Go forward, and look back; On the same circuit of this church-yard ground Look, ... 1814. ]

[Footnote 469: 1836.

Hopeful and cheerful:--vanished is the snow, Vanished or hidden; ... 1814. ]

[Footnote 470: 1827.

A ... 1814. ]

[Footnote 471: 1827.

And ... 1814. ]

[Footnote 472: 1836.

... spade, and shepherd's simple crook, 1814. ]

[Footnote 473: 1827.

... where You have long Held spiritual sway, have guided and consoled, And watched the outward course and inner heart. 1814. ]

[Footnote 474: Italics were first used in 1827.]

[Footnote 475: 1827.

... it ... 1814. ]

[Footnote 476: 1845.

And on the bosom of the mountain dwell-- 1814. ]

[Footnote 477: 1836.

... above the chimney top; In shape, in size, and colour, an abode 1814.

... above the chimney top: A rough abode--in colour, shape, and size, 1827. ]

[Footnote 478: 1814.

Few only in the scale of culture, hold Among my flock ... C. ]

[Footnote 479: 1845.

But humbleness of heart descends from heaven; 1814. ]

[Footnote 480: 1827.

... those ... 1814. ]

[Footnote 481: 1836.

A lone way-faring Man, I once was brought. Dark on my road the autumnal evening fell While I was traversing yon mountain-pass, 1814. ]

[Footnote 482: 1814.

And with the night succeeded a thick gloom, C. ]

[Footnote 483: 1845.

So that my feet and hands at length became 1814. ]

[Footnote 484: 1827.

Said I, ... 1814. ]

[Footnote 485: 1836.

... open ... 1814. ]

[Footnote 486: 1827.

... which the lofty Site, Far from all public road or beaten way And traversed only by a few faint paths, 1814. ]

[Footnote 487: 1832.

(Such chance is rare) detains him till the night Falls black upon the hills. "But come," she said, "Come let me lead you to our poor Abode. Behind those rocks it stands, as if it shunned, In churlishness, the eye of all mankind; But the few Guests who seek the door receive Most hearty welcome."-- ... 1814.

Detains him after his accustomed hour When night lies black upon the hills. 'But come, 1827. ]

[Footnote 488: 1827.

... Before ... 1814. ]

[Footnote 489: 1845.

But more was given; the eye, the mind, the heart, Found exercise in noting, as we sate By the bright fire, the good Man's face--composed Of features elegant; ... 1814.

But more was given; I studied as we sate 1827. ]

[Footnote 490: 1836.

... these ... 1814. ]

[Footnote 491: 1814.

Sweetened for me our mutual good night Nor left me on a lonely pillow stretched Till slumber had given way to dreamless sleep. C. ]

[Footnote 492: 1814.

... God's ... C. ]

[Footnote 493: 1820.

... nor seldom ... 1814. ]

[Footnote 494: 1845.

"--But, above all, my Thoughts are my support." The Matron ended-- ... 1814. ]

[Footnote 495: 1827.

... the ... 1814. ]

[Footnote 496: 1836.

... for ... 1814. ]

[Footnote 497: 1832.

... beneath ... 1814. ]

[Footnote 498: 1827.

... so plentiful, as mine!" See, in this well conditioned Soul, a Third To match with your good Couple that put forth Their homely graces on the mountain side. But ... 1814. ]

[Footnote 499: 1832.

... could feelingly ... 1814. ]

[Footnote 500: 1845.

... mysteriously-consorted Pair 1814. ]

[Footnote 501: 1814.

... and therewith C. ]

[Footnote 502: 1845.

... is ... 1814.

... yields ... 1836. ]

[Footnote 503: 1836.

A rueful sight the wild shore strewn with wrecks And trod by people in afflicted quest Of friends and kindred, ... 1814. ]

[Footnote 504: 1836.

Did lodge, in an appropriated spot, 1814. ]

[Footnote 505: 1836.

... and others, who allowed 1814. ]

[Footnote 506: 1814.

Are here deposited as the like shall be Through ages yet to come. C. ]

[Footnote 507: 1827.

... framed to high ... 1814. ]

[Footnote 508: 1814.

... upward can ... C. ]

[Footnote 509: 1836.

... and ... 1814. ]

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote FY: With this compare _The Prelude_,