More dignified, and stronger in himself;
Whether to act, judge, suffer, or enjoy.
True, the intelligence of social art
Hath overpower'd his forefathers, and soon
Will sweep the remnant of his line away;
But contemplations, worthier, nobler far
Than her destructive energies, attend
His independence, when along the side
Of Mississippi, or that northern stream*
That spreads into successive seas, he walks ;
Pleased to perceive his own unshackled life,
And his innate capacities of soul,

There imaged: or, when having gain'd the top
Of some commanding eminence, which yet
Intruder ne'er beheld, he thence surveys
Regions of wood and wide Savannah, vast
Expanse of unappropriated earth,

With mind that sheds a light on what he sees;
Free as the sun, and lonely as the sun,
Pouring above his head its radiance down
Upon a living, and rejoicing world!

"So, westward, toward th' unviolated woods
I bent my way; and, roaming far and wide,
Fail'd not to greet the merry mocking-bird;
And, while the melancholy muccawiss
(The sportive bird's companion in the grove)
Repeated, o'er and o'er, his plaintive cry,
I sympathized at leisure with the sound;
But that pure archetype of human greatness,
I found him not. There, in his stead, appear'd
A creature, squalid, vengeful, and impure;
Remorseless, and submissive to no law
But superstitious fear, and abject sloth.
Enough is told! Here am I. Ye have heard
What evidence I seek, and vainly seek;
What from my fellow beings I require,
And cannot find; what I myself have lost,
Nor can regain. How languidly I look

"A man is supposed to improve by going out into the world, by visiting London. Artificial man does; he extends with his sphere; but, alas! that sphere is microscopic: it is formed of minutiæ, and he surrenders his genuine vision to the artist, in order to embrace it in his ken. His bodily senses grow acute, even to barren and inhuman pruriency; while his mental become proportionally obtuse. The reverse is the man of mind: He who is placed in the sphere of nature and of God, might be a mock at Tattersall's and Brookes's, and a sneer at St. James's: he would certainly be swallowed alive by the first Pizarro that crossed him:-But when he walks along the river of Amazons; when he rests his eye on the unrivalled Andes; when he measures the long and watered Savannah; or contemplates, from a sudden promontory, the distant, vast Pacific-and feels himself a freeman in this vast theatre, and commanding each ready produced fruit of this wilderness, and each progeny of this stream-His exultation is not less than imperial. He is as gentle, too, as he is great. His emotions of tenderness keep pace with his elevation of sentiment; for he says, 'These were made by a good Being, who, unsought by me, placed me here to enjoy them.' He becomes at once a child and a king. His mind is in himself: from hence he argues, and from hence he acts, and he argues unerringly, and acts magisterially: His mind in himself is also in his God; and therefore he loves, and therefore he soars."-From the Notes upon the Hurricane, a poem, by William Gilbert.

The reader, I am sure, will thank me for the above quotation, which, though from a strange book, is one of the finest passages of modern English prose.

Upon this visible fabric of the world,
May be divined-perhaps it hath been said
But spare your pity, if there be in me
Aught that deserves respect: for I exist-
Within myself-not comfortless. The tenor
Which my life holds, he readily may conceive
Whoe'er hath stood to watch a mountain brook
In some still passage of its course, and seen,
Within the depths of its capacious breast,
Inverted trees, and rocks, and azure sky;
And, on its glassy surface, specks of foam,
And conglobated bubbles undissolved,
Numerous as stars; that, by their onward lapse,
Betray to sight the motion of the stream,
Else imperceptible; meanwhile, is heard
A soften'd roar, a murmur; and the sound
Though soothing, and the little floating isles
Though beautiful, are both by nature charged
With the same pensive office; and make known
Through what perplexing labyrinths, abrupt
Precipitations, and untoward straits,

The earth-born wanderer hath pass'd; and quickly,
That respite o'er, like traverses and toils
Must be again encounter'd. Such a stream
Is human life; and so the spirit fares
In the best quiet to its course allow'd;
And such is mine,-save only for a hope
That my particular current soon will reach
The unfathomable gulf, where all is still!

BOOK IV.

DESPONDENCY CORRECTED.

ARGUMENT.

State of feeling produced by the foregoing narrative. A belief in a superintending Providence the only adequate support under affliction. Wanderer's ejaculation. Account of his own devotional feelings in youth involved. Acknowledges the difficulty of a lively faith. Hence immoderate sorrow. Doubt or despondence not therefore to be inferred. Consolation to the solitary. Exhortations. How received. Wanderer applies his discourse to that other cause of dejection in the solitary's mind. Disappointment from the French revolution. States grounds of hope. Insists on the necessity of patience and fortitude with respect to the course of great revolutions. Knowledge the source of tranquillity. Rural solitude favourable to knowledge of the inferior creatures Study of their habits and ways recommended. Exhortation to bodily exertion and communion with nature. Morbid solitude pitiable. Superstition better than apathy. Apathy and destitution unknown in the infancy of society. The various modes of religion prevented it. Illustrated in the Jewish, Persian, Babylonian, Chaldean, and Grecian modes of belief. Solitary interposes. Wanderer points out the influence of religious and imaginative feeling in the humble ranks of society. Illustrated from present and past times. These principles tend to recall exploded superstitions and popery. Wanderer rebuts this charge, and contrasts the dignities of the imagination with the presumptive littleness of certain modern philosophers. Recommends other lights and guides. Asserts the power of the soul to regenerate herself. Solitary asks how. Reply. Personal appeal. Happy that the imagination and the affections mitigate the evils of that intellectual slavery which the calculating understanding is apt to produce. Exhortation to activity of body renewed. How to commune with Wanderer concludes with a legitimate union

nature

of the imagination, affections, understanding, and reason. Effect of his discourse. Evening. Return to the cottage.

HERE closed the tenant of that lonely vale
His mournful narrative-commenced in pain,
In pain commenced, and ended without peace:
Yet temper'd, not unfrequently, with strains
Of native feeling, grateful to our minds;
And doubtless yielding some relief to his,
While we sate listening with compassion due.
Such pity yet surviving, with firm voice
That did not falter though the heart was moved,
The wanderer said-

"One adequate support
For the calamities of mortal life
Exists, one only; an assured belief
That the procession of our fate, howe'er
Sad or disturb'd, is order'd by a Being
Of infinite benevolence and power;
Whose everlasting purposes embrace
All accidents, converting them to good.
The darts of anguish fir not where the seat
Of suffering hath been thoroughly fortified
By acquiescence in the will supreme
For time and for eternity; by faith,
Faith absolute in God, including hope,
And the defence that lies in boundless love
Of his perfections; with habitual dread
Of aught unworthily conceived, endured
Impatiently; ill-done, or left undone,
To the dishonour of his holy name.

Soul of our souls, and safeguard of the world
Sustain, thou only canst, the sick of heart;
Restore their languid spiri's, and recall
Their lost affections unto thee and thine!"

Then as we issued from that covert nook,
He thus continued, lifting up his eyes

To heaven," How beautiful this dome of sky,
And the vast hills, in fluctuation fix'd
At thy command, how awful! Shall the soul,
Human and rational, report of thee

E'en less than these? Be mute who will, who can,
Yet I will praise thee with impassion'd voice;
My lips, that may forget thee in the crowd,
Cannot forget thee here; where thou hast built,
For thy own glory, in the wilderness!
Me didst thou constitute a priest of thine,
In such a temple as we now behold
Rear'd for thy presence; therefore, am I bound
To worship, here, and everywhere, as one
Not doom'd to ignorance, though forced to tread,
From childhood up, the ways of poverty;
From unreflecting ignorance preserved,
And from debasement rescued. By thy grace
The particle divine remain'd unquench'd;
And, 'mid the wild weeds of a rugged soil,
Thy bounty caused to flourish deathless flowers,
From paradise transplanted; wintry age
Impends; the frost will gather round my heart;
And, if they wither, I am worse than dead!
Come, labour, when the worn-out frame requires
Perpetual Sabbath; come, disease and want;
And sad exclusion through decay of sense;
But leave me unabated trust in Thee,
And let thy favour, to the end of life,
nspire me with ability to seek

Repose and hope among eternal thingsFather of heaven and earth! and I am rich, And will possess my portion in content!

"And what are things eternal? Powers depart," The gray-hair'd wanderer steadfastly replied, Answering the question which himself had ask'd, "Possessions vanish, and opinions change, And passions hold a fluctuating seat: But, by the storms of circumstance unshaken, And subject neither to eclipse nor wane, Duty exists; immutably survive, For our support, the measures and the forms, Which an abstract intelligence supplies; Whose kingdom is, where time and space are not, Of other converse which mind, soul, and heart, Do, with united urgency, require.

What more that may not perish? Thou, dread

source,

Prime, self-existing cause and end of all,

That, in the scale of being fill their place,
Above our human region, or below,

Set and sustain'd; Thou, who didst wrap the cloud
Of infancy around us, that thyself,

Therein, with our simplicity a while
Might'st hold, on earth, communion undisturb'd-
Who from the anarchy of dreaming sleep,
Or from its deathlike void, with punctual care,
And touch as gentle as the morning light,
Restorest us daily to the powers of sense,
And reason's steadfast rule,-Thou, thou alone
Art everlasting, and the blessed spirits,
Which thou includest, as the sea her waves:
For adoration thou endurest; endure
For consciousness the motions of thy will;
For apprehension those transcendent truths
Of the pure intellect, that stand as laws,
(Submission constituting strength and power,)
E'en to thy being's infinite majesty !
This universe shall pass away-a work
Glorious because the shadow of thy might,
A step, or link, for intercourse with thee.
Ah! if the time must come, in which my feet
No more shall stray where meditation leads,
By flowing stream, through wood, or craggy wild,
Loved haunts like these, the unimprison'd mind
May yet have scope to range among her own,
Her thoughts, her images, her high desires.
If the dear faculty of sight should fail,
Still, it may be allow'd me to remember
What visionary powers of eye and soul
In youth were mine; when, station'd on the top
Of some huge hill, expectant, I beheld
The sun rise from distant climes return'd
Darkness to chase, and sleep, and bring the day
His bounteous gift! or saw him toward the deep
Sink, with a retinue of flaming clouds
Attended; then, my spirit was entranced
With joy exalted to beatitude;

up,

The measure of my soul was fill'd with bliss, And holiest love; as earth, sea, air, with light, With pomp, with glory, with magnificence!

"Those fervent raptures are for ever flown; And, since their date, my soul hath undergone Change manifold, for better or for worse; Yet cease I not to struggle, and aspire Heavenward; and chide the part of me that flags,

Through sinful choice; or dread necessity,
On human nature from above imposed.
'Tis, by comparison, an easy task

Earth to despise; but to converse with Heaven,
This is not easy; to relinquish all

We have, or hope, of happiness and joy,
And stand in freedom loosen'd from this world,
I deem not arduous; but must needs confess
That 'tis a thing impossible to frame
Conceptions equal to the soul's desires;
And the most difficult of tasks to keep
Heights which the soul is competent to gain.
Man is of dust: ethereal hopes are his,
Which, when they should sustain themselves
aloft

Want due consistence; like a pillar of smoke,
That with majestic energy from earth
Rises; but, having reach'd the thinner air,
Melts, and dissolves, and is no longer seen.
From this infirmity of mortal kind

Sorrow proceeds, which else were not; at least,
If grief be something hallow'd and ordain'd,
If, in proportion, it be just and meet,
Through this, 'tis able to maintain its hold,
In that excess which conscience disapproves.
For who could sink and settle to that point
Of selfishness: so senseless who could be
As long and perseveringly to mourn
For any object of his love, removed
From this unstable world, if he could fix
A satisfying view upon that state
Of pure, imperishable blessedness,
Which reason promises, and holy writ
Ensures to all believers? Yet mistrust
Is of such incapacity, methinks,

No natural branch; despondency far less.
And, if there be whose tender frames have droop'd
E'en to the dust; apparently, through weight
Of anguish unrelieved, and lack of power
An agonizing sorrow to transmute,
Infer not hence a hope from those withheld
When wanted most; a confidence impair'd
So pitiably, that, having ceased to see

With bodily eyes, they are borne down by love
Of what is lost, and perish through regret.
O! no, full oft th' innocent sufferer sees
Too clearly; feels too vividly; and longs
To realize the vision, with intense

And over-constant yearning-there-there lies
Th' excess, by which the balance is destroy'd.
Too, too contracted are these walls of flesh,
This vital warmth too cold, these visual orbs,
Though inconceivably endow'd, too dim
For any passion of the soul that leads
To ecstasy; and, all the crooked paths
Of time and change disdaining, takes its course
Along the line of limitless desires.

I speaking now from such disorder free,
Nor rapt, nor craving, but in settled peace.
I cannot doubt that they whom you deplore
Are glorified; or, if they sleep, shall wake
From sleep, and dwell with God in endless love.
Hope, below this, consists not with belief
In mercy, carried infinite degrees
Beyond the tenderness of human hearts:
Hope, below this, consists not with belief

In perfect wisdom, guiding mightiest power,
That finds no limits but her own pure will.
"Here then we rest: not fearing for our creed
The worst that human reasoning can achieve,
T' unsettle or perplex it; yet with pain
Acknowledging, and grievous self-reproach,
That, though immovably convinced, we want
Zeal, and the virtue to exist by faith
As soldiers live by courage: as, by strength
Of heart, the sailor fights with roaring seas.
Alas! th' endowment of immortal power
Is match'd unequally with custom, time,
And domineering faculties of sense
In all; in most with superadded foes,
Idle temptations, open vanities,
Ephemeral offspring of th' unblushing world;
And, in the private regions of the mind,
Ill govern'd passions, ranklings of despite,
Immoderate wishes, pining discontent,
Distress and care. What then remains? To seek
Those helps, for his occasions ever near,
Who lacks not will to use them; vows, renew'd
On the first motion of a holy thought;

Vigils of contemplation; praise; and prayer,
A stream, which, from the fountain of the heart
Issuing, however feebly, nowhere flows
Without access of unexpected strength.
But, above all, the victory is most sure
For him, who, seeking faith by virtue, strives
To yield entire submission to the law
Of conscience; conscience reverenced and obey'd,
As God's most intimate presence in the soul,
And his most perfect image in the world.
Endeavour thus to live; these rules regard;
These helps solicit; and a steadfast seat
Shall then be yours among the happy few
Who dwell on earth, yet breathe empyreal air,
Sons of the morning. For your nobler part,
Ere disencumber'd of her mortal chains,
Doubt shall be quell'd and trouble chased away;
With only such degree of sadness left
As may support longings of pure desire ;
And strengthen love, rejoicing secretly
In the sublime attractions of the grave."

While, in this strain, the venerable sage
Pour'd forth his aspirations, and announced
His judgments, near that lonely house we paced
A plot of greensward, seemingly preserved
By nature's care from wreck of scatter'd stones,
And from encroachment of encircling heath:
Small space! but, for reiterated steps,
Smooth and commodious; as a stately deck
Which to and fro the mariner is used
To tread for pastime, talking with his mates
Or haply thinking of far-distant friends,
While the ship glides before a steady breeze.
Stillness prevail'd around us; and the voice,
That spake, was capable to lift the soul
Toward regions yet more tranquil. But, methought
That he, whose fix'd despondency had given
Impulse and motive to that strong discourse,
Was less upraised in spirit than abash'd,
Shrinking from admonition, like a man
Who feels, that to exhort is to reproach.
Yet not to be diverted from his aim,
The sage continued: "For that other loss,

The loss of confidence in social man,

By th' unexpected transports of our age
Carried so high, that every thought, which look'd
Beyond the temporal destiny of the kind
To many seem'd superfluous: as, no cause
For such exalted confidence could e'er
Exist; so none is now for fix'd despair;
The two extremes are equally disown'd
By reason; if, with sharp recoil, from one
You have been driven far as its opposite,
Between them seek the point whereon to build
Sound expectations. So doth he advise
Who shared at first the illusion; but was soon
Cast from the pedestal of pride by shocks
Which nature gently gave, in woods and fields;
Nor unreproved by Providence, thus speaking
To the inattentive children of the world,
'Vainglorious generation! what new powers
On you have been conferr'd? what gifts, withheld
From your progenitors, have ye received,
Fit recompense of new desert? what claim
Are ye prepared to urge, that my decrees
For you should undergo a sudden change;
And the weak functions of one busy day,
Reclaiming and extirpating, perform
What all the slowly moving years of time,
With their united force, have left undone ?
By nature's gradual processes be taught;
By story be confounded! Ye aspire

Rashly, to fall once more; and that false fruit
Which to your overweening spirits, yields
Hope of a flight celestial, will produce
Misery and shame. But wisdom of her sons
Shall not the less, though late, be justified.'
Such timely warning," said the wanderer, "gave
That visionary voice; and, at this day,
When a Tartarean darkness overspreads
The groaning nations; when the impious rule,
By will or by establish'd ordinance,
Their own dire agents, and constrain the good
To acts which they abhor; though I bewail
This triumph, yet the pity of my heart
Prevents me not from owning, that the law,
By which mankind now suffers, is most just.
For by superior energies; more strict
Affiance in each other; faith more firm
In their unhallow'd principles; the bad
Have fairly earn'd a victory o'er the weak,
The vacillating, inconsistent good.
Therefore, not unconsoled, I wait-in hope
To see the moment, when the righteous cause
Shall gain defenders zealous and devout

As they who have opposed her; in which virtue
Will, to her efforts, tolerate no bounds
That are not lofty as her rights; aspiring
By impulse of her own ethereal zeal.
That Spirit only can redeem mankind;
And when that sacred spirit shall appear,
Then shall our triumph be complete as theirs.
Yet, should this confidence prove vain, the wise
Have still the keeping of their proper peace;
Are guardians of their own tranquillity.
They act, or they recede, observe, and feel;
Knowing the heart of man is set to be

The centre of this world, about the which Those revolutions of disturbances

Still roll; where all the aspects of misery
Predominate whose strong effects are such
As he must bear, being powerless to redress;
And that unless above himself he can
Erect himself, how poor a thing is man!"
"Happy is he who lives to understand-
Not human nature only, but explores
All natures,—to the end that he may find
The law that governs each; and where begins
The union, the partition where, that makes
Kind and degree, among all visible beings;
The constitutions, powers, and faculties,
Which they inherit,-cannot step beyond,-
And cannot fall beneath; that do assign
To every class its station and its office,
Through all the mighty commonwealth of things;
Up from the creeping plant to sovereign man.
Such converse, if directed by a meek,
Sincere, and humble spirit, teaches love;
For knowledge is delight; and such delight
Breeds love yet, suited as it rather is
To thought and to the climbing intellect,
It teaches less to love, than to adore;
If that be not indeed the highest love!"
"Yet," said I, tempted here to interpose,
"The dignity of life is not impair'd
By aught that innocently satisfies
The humbler cravings of the heart; and he
Is a still happier man, who, for those heights
Of speculation not unfit, descends;
And such benign affections cultivates
Among the inferior kinds; not merely those
That he may call his own, and which depend,
As individual objects of regard,

Upon his care,-from whom he also looks
For signs and tokens of a mutual bond,-
But others, far beyond this narrow sphere,
Whom, for the very sake of love, he loves.
Nor is it a mean praise of rural life
And solitude, that they do favour most,
Most frequently call forth, and best sustain
These pure sensations; that can penetrate
Th' obstreperous city; on the barren seas
Are not unfelt,—and much might recommend,
How much they might inspirit and endear,
The loneliness of this sublime retreat!"
"Yes," said the sage, resuming the discourse
Again directed to his downcast friend,

If, with the froward will and grovelling soul
Of man offended, liberty is here,

And invitation every hour renew'd,

To mark their placid state, who never heard
Of a command which they have power to break,
Or rule which they are tempted to transgress;
These, with a soothed or elevated heart,
May we behold; their knowledge register;
Observe their ways; and, free from envy, find
Complacence there: but wherefore this to you?
I guess that, welcome to your lonely hearth,
The redbreast feeds in winter from your hand;
A box, perchance, is from your casement hung
For the small wren to build in; not in vain,
The barriers disregarding that surround
This deep abiding-place, before your sight
Mounts on the breeze the butterfly-and soars,
Small creature as she is, from earth's bright flowers

Into the dewy clouds. Ambition reigns
In the waste wilderness: the soul ascends
Towards her native firmament of heaven,
When the fresh eagle, in the month of May,
Upborne, at evening, on replenish'd wing,
This shaded valley leaves, and leaves the dark
Impurpled hills,-conspicuously renewing
A proud communication with the sun

Low sunk beneath the horizon! List! I heard,
From yon huge breast of rock, a solemn bleat;
Sent forth as if it were the mountain's voice,
As if the visible mountain made the cry.
Again!" The effect upon the soul was such
As he express'd; from out the mountain's heart
The solemn bleat appear'd to issue, startling
The blank air-for the region all around
Stood silent, empty of all shape of life;
It was a lamb-left somewhere to itself,
The plaintive spirit of the solitude!
He paused, as if unwilling to proceed,
Through consciousness that silence in such place
Was best, the most affecting eloquence.
But soon his thoughts return'd upon themselves,
And in soft tone of speech, he thus resumed.
"Ah! if the heart, too confidently raised,
Perchance too lightly occupied, or lull'd
Too easily, despise or overlook

The vassalage that binds her to the earth,
Her sad dependence upon time, and all
The trepidations of mortality,

What place so destitute and void-but there
The little flower her vanity shall check;
The training worm reprove her thoughtless pride?
"These craggy regions, these chaotic wilds
Does that benignity pervade, that warms
The mole contented with her darksome walk
In the cold ground; and to the emmet gives
Her foresight, and intelligence that makes
The tiny creatures strong by social league;
Supports the generations, multiplies
Their tribes, till we behold a spacious plain
Or grassy bottom, all, with little hills-
Their labour-cover'd, as a lake with waves;
Thousands of cities, in the desert place
Built up of life, and food, and means of life!
Nor wanting here, to entertain the thought,
Creatures that in communities exist,
Less, as might seem, for general guardianship,
Or through dependence upon mutual aid,
Than by participation of delight
And a strict love of fellowship, combined.
What other spirit can it be that prompts
The gilded summer flies to mix and weave
Their sports together in the solar beam,
Or in the gloom of twilight hum their joy?
More obviously, the self-same influence rules
The feather'd kinds; the fieldfare's pensive flock,
The cawing rooks, and seamews from afar,
Hovering above these inland solitudes,
By the rough wind unscatter'd, at whose call
Their voyage was begun: nor is its power
Unfelt among the sedentary fowl

That seek yon pool, and there prolong their stay
In silent congress; or together roused

Is the mute company of changeful clouds;
Bright apparition suddenly put forth,
The rainbow, smiling on the faded storm;
The mild assemblage of the starry heavens;
And the great sun, earth's universal lord!

"How bountiful is nature! he shall find
Who seeks not; and to him, who hath not ask❜d,
Large measure shall be dealt. Three Sabbath-days
Are scarcely told, since, on a service bent
Of mere humanity, you clomb those heights;
And what a marvellous and heavenly show
Was to your sight reveal'd! the swains moved on
And heeded not; you linger'd, and perceived.
There is a luxury in self-dispraise;
And inward self-disparagement affords
To meditative spleen a grateful feast.
Trust me, pronouncing on your own desert,
You judge unthankfully; distemper'd nerves
Infect the thoughts: the languor of the frame
Depresses the soul's vigour. Quit your couch—
Cleave not so fondly to your moody cell;

Nor let the hallow'd powers, that shed from heaven
Stillness and rest, with disapproving eye
Look down upon your taper, through a watch
Of midnight hours, unseasonably twinkling
In this deep hollow, like a sullen star
Dimly reflected in a lonely pool.

Take courage, and withdraw yourself from ways
That run not parallel to nature's course.
Rise with the lark! your matins shall obtain
Grace, be their composition what it may,
If but with hers perform'd; climb once again,

| Climb every day, those ramparts; meet the breeze Upon their tops,-adventurous as a bee

That from your garden thither soars, to feed
On new blown heath; let yon commanding rock
Be your frequented watchtower; roll the stone
In thunder down the mountains: with all your
might

Chase the wild goat; and, if the boid red deer
Fly to these harbours, driven by hound and horn
Loud echoing, add your speed to the pursuit:
So, wearied to your hut shall you return,
And sink at evening into sound repose."
The solitary lifted toward the hills
A kindling eye; poetic feelings rush'd
Into my bosom, whence these words broke forth:
"O! what a joy it were, in vigorous health,
To have a body (this our vital frame

With shrinking sensibility endued,
And all the nice regards of flesh and blood)
And to the elements surrender it

As if it were a spirit! How divine,
The liberty, for frail, for mortal man
To roam at large among unpeopled glens
And mountainous retirements, only trod
By devious footsteps; regions consecrate
To oldest time! and, reckless of the storm
That keeps the raven quiet in her nest,
Be as a presence or a motion-one
Among the many there; and, while the mists
Flying, and rainy vapours, call out shapes
And phantoms from the crags and solid earth
As fast as a musician scatters sounds

|(As at a first creation and in haste