Her annual bounty, sparingly dealt forth With wise reluctance, you would I extol, 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. ---Would I had ne'er renounced it!»>
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
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
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
Watched both the outward course and inner heart;
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,
For morn and evening service, with her pail,
To that green pasture; place before our sight
The Family who dwell within yon House
Fenced round with glittering laurel; or in that
Below, from which the curling smoke ascends.
Or rather, as we stand on holy earth,
And have the Dead around us, take from them
Your instances; for they are both best known,
And by frail Man most equitably judged.
Epitomise the life; pronounce, You can,
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
To prize the breath we share with human kind
And look upon the dust of man with awe.»
The Priest replied.—« An office you impose
For which peculiar requisites are mine;
Yet much, I feel, is wanting-else the task
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
Is undergone; the transit made that shews
The very soul, revealed as she departs.
Yet, on your first suggestion, will I give,
Ere we descend into these silent vaults,
One Picture from the living.-
You behold,
High on the breast of yon dark mountain-dark
With stony barrenness, a shining speck
Bright as a sunbeam sleeping till a shower
Brush it away, or cloud pass over it;
And such it might be deemed-a sleeping sunbeam;
But 't is 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
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,
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,
And on the bosom of the mountain dwell
-A wedded Pair in childless solitude.
-A House of stones collected on the spot,
By rude hands built, with rocky knolls in front,
Back'd also by a ledge of rock, whose crest
Of birch-trees waves above the chimney top:
A rough abode-in colour, shape, and size,
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
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,
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
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
With evening cheerfulness. In powers of mind,
In scale of culture, few among my Flock
Hold lower rank than this sequester'd Pair;
But humbleness of heart descends from Heaven;
And that best gift of Heaven hath fallen on them:
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;
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 turn'd; and yet more pleased have from your lips Gather'd this fair report of them who dwell In that Retirement; whither, by such course Of evil hap and good as oft awaits A lone wayfaring Man, I once was brought. Dark on my road the autumnal evening fell While I was traversing yon mountain-pass, And night succeeded with unusual gloom; So that my feet and hands at length became Guides better than mine eyes-until a light High in the gloom appear'd, too high, methought,
For human habitation; but I long'd
To reach it, destitute of other hope.
I look'd with steadiness as Sailors look
On the north star, or watch-tower's distant lamp,
And saw the light-now fix'd-and shifting now-
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
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 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,
Dependents, Comforters-my Wheel, my Fire,
All day the House-clock ticking in mine ear,
The cackling Hen, the tender chicken brood,
And the wild birds that gather round my porch.
This honest Sheep-dog's countenance I read;
With him can talk; nor blush to waste a word
(The same kind Matron whom your tongue hath praised) | On Creatures less intelligent and shrewd.
Alarm and disappointment! The alarm
Ceased when she learn'd through what mishap I came,
And by what help had gain'd those distant fields.
Drawn from her Cottage, on that open height,
Bearing a lanthorn 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
When night lies black upon the hills.
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 Help-mate 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 the 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 even 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
Of his day's work. Three dark mid-winter months
Pass,' said the Matron, and I never see,
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 happy! yielding to the law
Of these privations, richer in the main!
While thankless thousands are oppress'd 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;
you the hours of labour do not flag;
you each evening hath its shining Star, And every Sabbath-day its golden Suǹ !'»
<< 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 the 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 love 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 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-encumber'd ground;
Masses of every shape and size, that lay
Scatter'd about beneath 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
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
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 you 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 grey-hair'd Orphan-
So call him, for humanity to him
parent was-could feelingly 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:
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,
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 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, 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, the Oppressor and the Opprest;
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 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 sinile 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 School-boy; the bold Youth
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 burthensome; 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 touched with kind concern;
And gentle 'Nature grieved, that One should die;'
Or, if the change demanded no regret,
Observed the liberating stroke-and blessed.
-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, a't is not in the vital seat
Of feeling to produce them, without aid
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 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 fostered, and 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
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
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.
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 ordained,
If so approved and sanctified, to pass,
Through shades and silent rest, to endless joy.»>
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 the 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 thronged 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.
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 The Poet fostering for his native land -and how-The lonely Miner, an Instance of Per- Such hope, entreats that Servants may abound severance, which leads by contrast to an Example of Of those pure Altars worthy; Ministers abused talents, irresolution, and weakness-Solitary, Detached from pleasure, to the love of gain applying this covertly to his own case, asks for an Superior, insusceptible of pride, Instance of some Stranger, whose dispositions may And by ambitious longings undisturbed; have led him to end his days here-Pastor, in an- Men, whose delight is where their duty leads swer, gives an account of the harmonizing influence Or fixes them; whose least distinguished day of Solitude upon two Men of opposite principles, Shines with some portion of that heavenly lustre who had encountered agitations in public life-The Which makes the Sabbath lovely in the sight Rule by which Peace may be obtained expressed Of blessed Angels, pitying human cares. and where-Solitary hints at an overpowering Fata--And, as on earth it is the doom of Truth lity-Answer of the Pastor-What subjects he will To be perpetually attacked by foes exclude from his Narratives-Conversation upon this Open or covert, be that Priesthood still, -Instance of an unamiable character, a Female-For her defence, replenished with a Band and why given-Contrasted with this, a meek Suf- Of strenuous Champions, in scholastic arts ferer, from unguarded and betrayed love-Instance of Thoroughly disciplined; nor (if in course heavier guilt, and its consequences to the Offender Of the revolving World's disturbances With this Instance of a Marriage Contract broken is Cause should recur, which righteous Heaven avert! contrasted one of a Widower, evidencing his faithful To meet such trial) from their spiritual Sires affection towards his deceased wife by his care of Degenerate; who, constrained to wield the sword their female Children. Of disputation, shrunk not, though assailed 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 earned, Or, through illuminating grace, received, For their dear Countrymen, and all mankind. O high example, constancy divine!
THE CHURCH-YARD AMONG THE MOUNTAINS.
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 reared
In beauty of Holiness, with ordered pomp,
Decent, and unreproved. The voice, that greets
The majesty of both, shall pray for both;
That, mutually protected and sustained,
They may endure as long as sea surrounds
This favoured 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;»>
Even 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, conquered 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 oppressed with awe, But with a mild and social cheerfulness, Then to the Solitary turned, and spake,
« At morn or eve, in your retired Domain,
Perchance you not unfrequently have marked
A Visitor-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 answered: « Such a Form
Full well I recollect. We often crossed
Each other's path; but, as the Intruder seemed
Fondly to prize the silence which he kept,
And I as willingly did cherish mine,
We met, and passed, 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 asked, Believe it not-oh! never could that be!»>
He loved,» the vicar answered, « deeply loved,
Loved fondly, truly, fervently; and dared
At length to tell his love, but sued in vain;
-Rejected-yea repeiled—and, if with scorn
Upon the haughty maiden's brow, 't is 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 wooed
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
Cnjustly dealt with; but the Maid was gone!
lad vanished 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 enchained by science he had loved
To bend, he stoutly re-addressed 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 appeared
Till a betraying sickliness was seen
To tinge his cheek; and through his frame it crept
With slow mutation unconcealable;
Such universal change as autumn makes
In the fair body of a leafy grove
Discoloured, then divested.
By Poets skilled in Nature's secret ways
That Love will not submit to be controlled
By mastery and the good Man lacked not Friends Who strove to instil this truth into his mind,
A mind in all heart-mysteries unversed.
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Go to the hills,' said one, remit awhile 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, plucked as they blow
Where health abides, and cheerfulness, and peace."
The attempt was made;-'tis needless to report
How hopelessly:-but Innocence is strong,
And 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,» exclaimed The Wanderer, « I infer that he was healed By perseverance in the course prescribed.»>
«You do not err: the powers, that had been lost
By slow degrees, were gradually regained;
The fluttering nerves composed; the beating heart
In rest established; and the jarring thoughts
To harmony restored.-But yon dark mould
Will cover him, in height of strength to earth
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,
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