Such palms I boast not; no! to me, who find,
Reviewing my past way, much to condemn,
Little to praise, and nothing to regret,
(Save some remembrances of dream-like joys
That scarcely seem to have belong'd to me,)
If I must take my choice between the pair
That rule alternately the weary hours,
Night is than day more acceptable; sleep
Doth, in my estimate of good, appear
A better state than waking; death than sleep:
Feelingly sweet is stillness after storm,
Though under covert of the wormy ground!
"Yet be it said, in justice to myself,
That in more genial times, when I was free
To explore the destiny of human kind,
(Not as an intellectual game pursued
With curious subtilty, from wish to cheat
Irksome sensations; but by love of truth
Urged on, or haply by intense delight
In feeding thought, wherever thought could feed,)
I did not rank with those (too dull or nice,
For to my judgment such they then appear'd,
Or too aspiring, thankless at the best)
Who, in this frame of human life, perceive
An object whereunto their souls are tied
In discontented wedlock; nor did e'er,
In framing models to improve the scheme
Of man's existence, and recast the world,
Why should not grave philosophy be styled
Herself, a dreamer of a kindred stock,
A dreamer yet more spiritless and dull?
Yes, shall the fine immunities she boasts
Establish sounder titles of esteem
For her, who (all too timid and reserved
For onset, for resistance too inert,
Too weak for suffering, and for hope too tame)
Placed among flowery gardens, curtain'd round
With world-excluding groves, the brotherhood
Of soft epicureans, taught-if they
The ends of being would secure, and win
The crown of wisdom-to yield up their souls
To a voluptuous unconcern, preferring
Tranquillity to all things. Or is she,"
I cried, "more worthy of regard, the power,
Who, for the sake of sterner quiet, closed
The stoic's heart against the vain approach
Of admiration, and all sense of joy?"
His countenance gave notice that my zeal
Accorded little with his present mind;
I ceased, and he resumed. "Ah! gentle sir,
Slight, if you will, the means: but spare to slight
The end of those, who did, by system, rank,
From me, those dark, impervious shades, that hang As the prime object of a wise man's aim,
Upon the region whither we are bound,
Exclude a power to enjoy the vital beams,
Of present sunshine. Deities that float
On wings, angelic spirits, I could muse
O'er what from eldest time we have been told
Of your bright forms and glorious faculties,
And with the imagination be content.
Not wishing more; repining not to tread
The little sinuous path of earthly care,
By flowers embellish'd, and by springs refresh'd.
Blow winds of autumn!-let your chilling breath
Take the live herbage from the mead, and strip
The shady forest of its green attire,—
And let the bursting clouds to fury rouse
The gentle brooks! Your desolating sway,'
Thus I exclaim'd, 'no sadness sheds on me,
And no disorder in your rage I find.
What dignity, what beauty, in this change
From mild to angry, and from sad to gay,
Alternate and revolving! How benign,
How rich in animation and delight,
How bountiful these elements-compared
With aught, as more desirable and fair
Devised by fancy for the golden age;
Or the perpetual warbling that prevails
In Arcady, beneath unalter'd skies,
Through the long year in constant quiet bound,
Night hush'd as night, and day serene as day!'
But why this tedious record? Age, we know,
Is garrulous; and solitude is apt
T'anticipate the privilege of age.
From far ye come; and surely with a hope
Of better entertainment-let us hence!"
Loath to forsake the spot, and still more loath
To be diverted from our present theme,
I said, "My thoughts agreeing, sir, with yours,
Would push this censure farther; for, if smiles
Of scornful pity be the just reward
Of poesy, thus courteously employ'd
Security from shock of accident,
Release from fear; and cherish'd peaceful days
For their own sakes, as mortal life's chief good,
And only reasonable felicity.
What motive drew, what impulse, I would ask,
Through a long course of later ages, drove
The hermit to his cell in forest wide ;
Or what detain❜d him, till his closing eyes
Took their last farewell of the sun and stars,
Fast anchor'd in the desert? Not alone
Dread of the persecuting sword-remorse.
Wrongs unredress'd, or insults unavenged
And unavengeable, defeated pride,
Prosperity subverted, maddening want,
Friendship betray'd, affection unreturn'd,
Love with despair, or grief in agony ;
Not always from intolerable pangs
He fled; but, compass'd round by pleasure, sigh'd
For independent happiness: craving peace,
The central feeling of all happiness,
Not as a refuge from distress or pain,
A breathing-time, vacation, or a truce,
But for its absolute self; a life of peace,
Stability without regret or fear;
That hath been, is, and shall be evermore!
Such the reward he sought; and wore out life,
There, where on few external things his heart
Was set, and those his own; or, if not his,
Subsisting under nature's steadfast law.
"What other yearning was the master tie
Of the monastic brotherhood, upon rock
Aërial, or in green secluded vale,
One after one, collected from afar
An undissolving fellowship ?-What but this,
The universal instinct of repose,
The longing for confirm'd tranquillity,
Inward and outward; humble, yet sublime:
The life where hope and memory are as one;
Earth quiet and unchanged; the human soul
sistent in self-rule; and heaven reveal'd meditation in that quietness!
ach was their scheme:-thrice happy he who gain'd The end proposed! And,-though the same were miss'd
By multitudes, perhaps obtain'd by none,-
They, for the attempt, and for the pains employ'd,
Do, in my present censure, stand redeem'd
From the unqualified disdain, that once
Would have been cast upon them, by my voice
Delivering her decisions from the seat
Of forward youth: that scruples not to solve
Doubts, and determine questions, by the rules
Of inexperienced judgment, ever prone
To overweening faith; and is inflamed,
By courage, to demand from real life
The test of act and suffering-to provoke
Hostility, how dreadful when it comes,
Whether affliction be the foe, or guilt!
"A child of earth, I rested, in that stage
Of my past course to which these thoughts advert,
Upon earth's native energies; forgetting-
That mine was a condition which required
Nor energy, nor fortitude-a calm
Without vicissitude; which, if the like
Had been presented to my view elsewhere,
I might have e'en been tempted to despise.
But that which was serene was also bright;
Enliven'd happiness with joy o'erflowing,
With joy, and-O! that memory should survive
To speak the word-with rapture! Nature's boon,
Life's genuine inspiration, happiness
Above what rules can teach, or fancy feign;
Abused, as all possessions are abused
That are not prized according to their worth.
And yet, what worth? what good is given to men,
More solid than the gilded clouds of heaven?
What joy more lasting than a vernal flower?
None! 'tis the general plaint of human kind
In solitude, and mutually address'd
From each to all, for wisdom's sake. This truth
The priest announces from his holy seat:
With dark events. Desirous to divert
Or stem the current of the speaker's thoughts,
We signified a wish to leave that place
Of stillness and close privacy, a nook
That seem'd for self-examination made,
Or, for confession, in the sinner's need,
Hidden from all men's view. To our attempt
He yielded not; but pointing to a slope
Of mossy turf defended from the sun,
And, on that couch inviting us to rest,
Full on that tender-hearted man he turn'd
A serious eye, and thus his speech renew❜d.
"You never saw, your eyes did never look
On the bright form of her whom once I loved:
Her silver voice was heard upon the earth,
A sound unknown to you; else, honour'd friend!
Your heart had borne a pitiable share
Of what I suffer'd, when I wept that loss,
And suffer now, not seldom, from the thought
That I remember, and can weep no more.
Stripp'd as I am of all the golden fruit
Of self-esteem; and by the cutting blasts
Of self-reproach familiarly assail'd;
I would not yet be of such wintry bareness
But that some leaf of your regard should hang
Upon my naked branches; lively thoughts
Give birth, full often, to unguarded words.
I grieve that, in your presence, from my tongue
Too much of frailty hath already dropp'd;
But that too much demands still more.
Revered compatriot; and to you, kind sir,
(Not to be deem'd a stranger, as you come
Following the guidance of these welcome feet
To our secluded vale,) it may be told,
That my demerits did not sue in vain
To one on whose mild radiance many gazed
With hope, and all with pleasure. This fair bride,
In the devotedness of youthful love,
Preferring me to parents, and the choir
Of gay companions, to the natal roof,
And all known places and familiar sights,
And, crown'd with garlands in the summer grove, (Resign'd with sadness gently weighing down
The poet fits it to his pensive lyre.
Yet, ere that final resting place be gain'd,
Sharp contradictions may arise by doom
Of this same life, compelling us to grieve
That the prosperities of love and joy
Should be permitted, ofttimes, to endure
So long, and be at once cast down for ever.
O tremble, ye, to whom hath been assign'd
A course of days composing happy months,
And they as happy years; the present still
So like the past, and both so firm a pledge
Of a congenial future, that the wheels
Of pleasure move without the aid of hope:
For mutability is nature's bane;
And slighted hope will be avenged: and, when
Ye need her favours, ye shall find her not;
But in her stead-fear-doubt-and agony !"
This was the bitter language of the heart:
But, while he spake, look, gesture, tone of voice,
Though discomposed and vehement, were such
As skill and graceful nature might suggest
To a proficient of the tragic scene
Standing before the multitude, beset
Her trembling expectations, but no more
Than did to her due honour, and to me
Yielded, that day, a confidence sublime
In what I had to build upon,) this bride,
Young, modest, meek, and beautiful, I led
To a low cottage in a sunny bay,
Where the salt sea innoculously breaks,
And the sea breeze as innocently breathes,
On Devon's leafy shores; a shelter'd hold,
In a soft clime encouraging the soil
To a luxuriant bounty! As our steps
Approach the embower'd abode-our chosen seat-
See, rooted in the earth, her kindly bed,
The unendanger'd myrtle, deck'd with flowers,
Before the threshold stands to welcome us!
While in the flowering myrtle's neighbourhood,
Not overlook'd but courting no regard,
Those native plants, the holly and the yew,
Gave modest intimation to the mind
How willingly their aid they would unite
With the green myrtle, to endear the hours
Of winter, and protect that pleasant place.
Wild were the walks upon those lonely downs
Track leading into track, how mark'd, how worn
Into bright verdure, between fern and gorse
Winding away its never-ending line
On their smooth surface, evidence was none:
But, there, lay open to our daily haunt,
A range of unappropriated earth,
Where youth's ambitious feet might move at large;
Whence, unmolested wanderers, we beheld
The shining giver of the day diffuse
His brightness o'er a tract of sea and land
Gay as our spirits, free as our desires,
As our enjoyments, boundless. From those heights
We dropp'd, at pleasure, into sylvan combs;
Where arbours of impenetrable shade,
And mossy seats, detain'd us side by side,
With hearts at ease, and knowledge in our hearts
That all the grove and all the day was ours.'
"But nature call'd my partner to resign
Her share in the pure freedom of that life,
Enjoy'd by us in common. To my hope,
To my heart's wish, my tender mate became
The thankful captive of maternal bonds;
And those wild paths were left to me alone.
There could I meditate on follies past;
And, like a weary voyager escaped
From risk and hardship, inwardly retrace
A course of vain delights and thoughtless guilt,
And self-indulgence-without shame pursued.
There, undisturb'd, could think of, and could thank
Her-whose submissive spirit was to me
Rule and restraint-my guardian-shall I say
That earthly providence, whose guiding love
Within a port of rest had lodged me safe;
Safe from temptation, and from danger far?
Strains follow'd of acknowledgment address'd
To an Authority enthroned above
On these two pillars rested as in air
Our solitude.
"It soothes me to perceive,
Your courtesy withholds not from my words
Attentive audience. But, O! gentle friends,
As times of quiet and unbroken peace,
Though, for a nation, times of blessedness,
Give back faint echoes from the historian's page!
So, in th' imperfect sounds of this discourse,
Depress'd I hear, how faithless is the voice
Which those most blissful days reverberate.
What special record can, or need, be given
To rules and habits, whereby much was done,
But all within the sphere of little things,
Of humble, though, to us, important cares,
And precious interests? Smoothly did our life
Advance, not swerving from the path prescribed:
Her annual, her diurnal round alike
Maintain'd with faithful care. And you divine
The worst effects that our condition saw
If you imagine changes slowly wrought,
And in their progress imperceptible;
Not wish'd for, sometimes noticed with a sigh,
(Whate'er of good or lovely they might bring,)
Sighs of regret, for the familiar good,
And loveliness endear'd-which they removed.
"Seven years of occupation undisturb'd
Establish'd seemingly a right to hold
That happiness: and use and habit gave
To what an alien spirit had acquired
A patrimonial sanctity. And thus,
With thoughts and wishes bounded to this world,
I lived and breathed; most grateful, if t' enjoy
Without repining or desire for more,
For different lot, or change to higher sphere
(Only except some impulses of pride
The reach of sight: from whom, as from their With no determined object, though upheld
Proceed all visible ministers of good
That walk the earth-Father of heaven and earth,
Father, and King, and Judge, adored and fear'd!
These acts of mind, and memory, and heart,
And spirit-interrupted and relieved
By observations transient as the glance
Of flying sunbeams, or to the outward form
Cleaving with power inherent and intense,
As the mute insect fix'd upon the plant
By theories with suitable support)
Most grateful, if in such wise to enjoy
Be proof of gratitude for what we have;
Else, I allow, most thankless. But, at once,
From some dark seat of fatal power was urged
A claim that shatter'd all. Our blooming girl,
Caught in the gripe of death, with such grief time
To struggle in as scarcely would allow
Her cheek to change its colour, was convey'd
From us to regions inaccessible;
On whose soft leaves it hangs, and from whose Where height or depth, admits not the approach
Draws imperceptibly its nourishment
Endear'd my wanderings; and the mother's kiss
And infant's smile awaited my return.
"In privacy we dwelt-a wedded pair-
Companions daily, often all day long:
Not placed by fortune within easy reach
Of various intercourse, nor wishing aught
Beyond the allowance of our own fireside,
The twain within our happy cottage born,
Inmates, and heirs of our united love;
Graced mutually by difference of sex,
By the endearing names of nature bound,
And with no wider interval of time
Between their several births than served for one
To establish something of a leader's sway;
Yet left them join'd by sympathy in age;
Equals in pleasure, fellows in pursuit,
Of living man, though longing to pursue.
With e'en as brief a warning-and how soon,
With what short interval of time between,
I tremble yet to think of-our last prop,
Our happy life's only remaining stay-
The brother follow'd; and was seen no more!
"Calm as a frozen lake when ruthless winds
Blow fiercely, agitating earth and sky,
The mother now remain 'd; as if in her,
Who to the lowest region of the soul,
Had been erewhile unsettled and disturb❜d,
This second visitation had no power
To shake; but only to bind up and seal;
And to establish thankfulness of heart
In Heaven's determinations, ever just.
The eminence on which her spirit stood,
Mine was unable to attain. Immense
The space that sever'd us! But, as the sight
Communicates with heaven's ethereal orbs
Incalculably distant; so, I felt
That consolation may descend from far
(And that is intercourse and union, too,)
While, overcome with speechless gratitude,
And with a holier love inspired, I look'd
On her at once superior to my woes
And partner of my loss. O heavy change!
Dimness o'er this clear luminary crept
Insensibly; th' immortal and divine
Yielded to mortal reflux; her pure glory,
As from the pinnacle of worldly state
Wretched ambition drops astounded, fell
Into a gulf obscure of silent grief,
And keen heart anguish-of itself ashamed,
Yet obstinately cherishing itself;
And, so consumed, she melted from my arms,
And left me, on this earth, disconsolate.
"What follow'd cannot be review'd in thought;
Much less, retraced in words. If she, of life
Blameless, so intimate with love and joy
And all the tender motions of the soul,
Had been supplanted, could I hope to stand-
Infirm, dependent, and now destitute?
I call'd on dreams and visions, to disclose
My melancholy voice the chorus join'd;
Be joyful all ye nations, in all lands,
Ye that are capable of joy be glad!
Henceforth, whate'er is wanting to yourselves
In others ye shall promptly find; and all
Enrich'd by mutual and reflected wealth,
Shall with one heart honour their common kind.'
"Thus was I reconverted to the world;
Society became my glittering bride,
And airy hopes my children. From the depths
Of natural passion, seemingly escaped,
My soul diffused herself in wide embrace
Of institutions, and the forms of things;
As they exist in mutable array,
Upon life's surface. What, though in my veins
There flow'd no Gallic blood, nor had I breathed
The air of France, not less than Gallic zeal
Kindled and burnt among the sapless twigs
Of my exhausted heart. If busy men
In sober conclave met, to weave a web
Of amity, whose living threads should stretch
Beyond the seas, and to the farthest pole,
There did I sit, assisting. If, with noise
And acclamations, crowds in open air
Express'd the tumult of their minds, my voice
That which is veil'd from waking thought; con- There mingled, heard or not. The powers of song
Eternity, as men constrain & ghost
T' appear and answer; to the grave I spake
Imploringly; look'd up, and ask'd the heavens
If angels traversed their cerulean floors,
If fix'd or wandering star could tidings yield
Of the departed spirit-what abode
It occupies what consciousness retains
Of former loves and interests. Then my soul
Turn'd inward, to examine of what stuff
Time's fetters are composed; and life was put
To inquisition, long and profitless!
By pain of heart, now check'd, and now impell'd-
Th' intellectual power, through words and things,
Went sounding on, a dim and perilous way!
And from those transports, and these toils abstruse,
Some trace am I enabled to retain
Of time, else lost; existing unto me
Only by records in myself not found.
I left not uninvoked; and, in still groves,
Where mild enthusiasts tuned a pensive lay
Of thanks and expectation, in accord
With their belief, I sang saturnian rule
Return'd, a progeny of golden years
Permitted to descend, and bless mankind.
With promises the Hebrew Scriptures teem:
I felt the invitation; and resumed
A long suspended office in the house
Of public worship, where, the glowing phrase
Of ancient inspiration serving me,
I promised also,-with undaunted trust
Foretold, and added prayer to prophecy;
The admiration winning of the crowd;
The help desiring of the pure devout.
"Scorn and contempt forbid me to proceed! But history, time's slavish scribe, will tell How rapidly the zealots of the cause Disbanded, or in hostile ranks appear'd:
"From that abstraction I was roused,-and how? Some, tired of honest service; these, outdone,
E'en as a thoughtful shepherd by a flash
Of lightning startled in a gloomy cave
Of these wild hills. For, lo! the dread Bastile,
With all the chambers in its horrid towers,
Fell to the ground: by violence o'erthrown
Of indignation; and with shouts that drown'd
The crash it made in falling! From the wreck
A golden palace rose, or seem'd to rise
Th' appointed seat of equitable law,
And mild, paternal sway. The potent shock
I felt: the transformation I perceived,
As marvellously seized as in that moment
When from the blind mist issuing, I beheld
Glory-beyond all glory ever seen,
Confusion infinite of heaven and earth,
Dazzling the soul. Meanwhile, prophetic harps
In every grove were ringing. War shall cease;
Did ye not hear that conquest is abjured?
Bring garlands, bring forth choicest flowers, to deck
The tree of liberty.' My heart rebounded;
Disgusted, therefore, or appall'd, by aims
Of fiercer zealots; so confusion reign'd,
And the more faithful were compell'd t' exclaim,
As Brutus did to virtue, Liberty,
I worshipp'd thee, and find thee but a shade !'
"Such recantation had for me no charm,
Nor would I bend to it; who should have grieved
At aught, however fair, that bore the mien
Of a conclusion, or catastrophe.
Why then conceal, that, when the simply good
In timid selfishness withdrew, I sought
Otner support, not serupulous whence it came
And, by what compromise it stood, not nice?
Enough if notions seem'd to be high pitch'd,
And qualities determined. Among men
So character'd did I maintain a strife
Hopeless, and still more hopeless every hour;
But, in the process, I began to feel
That, if th' emancipation of the world
Were miss'd, I should at least secure my own,
And be in part compensated. For rights,
Widely-inveterately usurp'd upon,
I spake with vehemence; and promptly seized
Whate'er abstraction furnish'd for my needs
Of purposes; nor scrupled to proclaim,
And propagate, by liberty of life,
Those new persuasions. Not that I rejoiced,
Or e'en found pleasure, in such vagrant course,
For its own sake; but farthest from the walk
Which I had trod in happiness and peace,
Was most inviting to a troubled mind;
That, in a struggling and distemper'd world,
Saw a seductive image of herself.
Yet, mark the contradictions of which man
Is still the sport! Here nature was my guide,
The nature of the dissolute; but thee,
O fostering nature! I rejected-smiled
At others' tears in pity: and in scorn
At those, which thy soft influence sometimes drew
From my unguarded heart. The tranquil shores
Of Britain circumscribed me; else, perhaps,
I might have been entangled among deeds,
Which, now, as infamous, I should abhor-
Despise, as senseless: for my spirit relish'd
Strangely the exasperation of that land,
Which turn'd an angry beak against the down
Of her own breast; confounded into hope
Of disencumbering thus her fretful wings.
But all was quieted by iron bonds
Of military sway. The shifting aims,
The moral interests, the creative might,
The varied functions and high attributes
Of civil action, yielded to a power
Formal, and odious, and contemptible.
In Britain, ruled a panic dread of change;
The weak were praised, rewarded, and advanced;
And, from the impulse of a just disdain,
Once more did I retire into myself.
There feeling no contentment, I resolved
To fly, for safeguard, to some foreign shore,
Remote from Europe; from her blasted hopes;
Her fields of carnage, and polluted air.
Known and familiar, which the vaulted sky
Did, in the placid clearness of the night,
Disclose, had accusations to prefer
Against my peace. Within the cabin stood
That volume-as a compass for the soul-
Revered among the nations. I implored
Its guidance; but the infallible support
Of faith was wanting. Tell me, why refused
To one by storms annoy'd and adverse winds;
Perplex'd with currents; of his weakness sick;
Of vain endeavours tired; and by his own,
And by his nature's, ignorance, dismay'd!
"Long-wish'd for sight, the western world ap-
pear'd;
And, when the ship was moor'd, I leapt ashore
Indignantly-resolved to be a man,
Who, having o'er the past no power, would live
No longer in subjection to the past,
With abject mind—from a tyrannic lord
Inviting penance, fruitlessly endured.
So, like a fugitive, whose feet have clear'd
Some boundary, which his followers may not cross
In prosecution of their deadly chase,
Respiring I look'd round. How bright the sun,
How promising the breeze! Can aught produced
In the old world compare, thought I, for power
And majesty with this gigantic stream,
Sprung from the desert? And behold a city
Fresh, youthful, and aspiring! What are these
To me, or I to them? As much at least
As he desires that they should be, whom winds
And waves have wafted to this distant shore,
In the condition of a damaged seed,
Whose fibres cannot, if they would, take root.
Here may I roam at large; my business is,
Roaming at large, to observe, and not to feel;
And, therefore, not to act-convinced that all
Which bears the name of action, howsoe'er
Beginning, ends in servitude-still painful,
And mostly profitless. And, sooth to say,
On nearer view, a motley spectacle
Appear'd, of high pretensions-unreproved
"Fresh blew the wind, when o'er the Atlantic But by the obstreperous voice of higher still;
The ship went gliding with her thoughtless crew;
And who among them but an exile, freed
From discontent, indifferent, pleased to sit
Among the busily employ'd, not more
With obligation charged, with service tax'd,
Than the loose pendant-to the idle wind
Upon the tall mast streaming: but, ye powers
Of soul and sense-mysteriously allied,
O, never let the wretched, if a choice
Be left him, trust the freight of his distress
To a long voyage on the silent deep!
For, like a plague, will memory break out;
And, in the blank and solitude of things,
Upon his spirit, with a fever's strength,
Will conscience prey. Feebly must they have felt
Who, in old time, attired with snakes and whips
The vengeful furies. Beautiful regards
Were turn'd on me-the face of her I loved;
The wife and mother, pitifully fixing
Tender reproaches, insupportable!
Where now that boasted liberty? No welcome
From unknown objects I received; and those,
Big passions strutting on a petty stage;
Which a detach'd spectator may regard
Not unamused. But ridicule demands
Quick change of objects; and, to laugh alone,
At a composing distance from the haunts
Of strife and folly, though it be a treat
As choice as musing leisure can bestow;
Yet, in the very centre of the crowd,
To keep the secret of a poignant scorn,
Howe'er to airy demon's suitable,
Of all unsocial courses, is least fit
For the gross spirit of mankind,-the one
That soonest fails to please, and quickliest turns
Into vexation. Let us, then, I said,
Leave this unknit republic to the scourge
Of her own passions; and to regions haste,
Whose shades have never felt th' encroaching axe,
Or soil endured a transfer in the mart
Of dire rapacity. There, man abides,
Primeval nature's child. A creature weak
In combination, (wherefore else driven back
So far, and of his old inheritance
So easily deprived ?) but, for that cause,
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