To exercise their untried faculties)
Descending from the region of the clouds, And starting from the hollows of the earth More multitudinous every moment, rend Their way before them-what a joy to roam An equal among mightiest energies: And haply sometimes with articulate voice, Amid the deafening tumult, scarcely heard By him that utters it, exclaim aloud,
Be this continued so from day to day, Nor let the fierce commotion have an end, Ruinous though it be, from month to month!" "Yes," said the wanderer, taking from my lips The strain of transport, "whosoe'er in youth Has, through ambition of his soul, given way To such desires, and grasp'd at such delight, Shall feel congenial stirrings late and long, In spite of all the weakness that life brings, Its cares and sorrows; he though taught to own The tranquillizing power of time, shall wake, Wake sometimes to a noble restlessness- Loving the sports which once he gloried in. "Compatriot, friend, remote are Garry's hills, The streams far distant of your native glen; Yet is their form and image here express'd With brotherly resemblance. Turn your steps Wherever fancy leads, by day, by night, Are various engines working, not the same As those by which your soul in youth was moved, But by the great Artificer endued
With no inferior power. You dwell alone: You walk, you live, you speculate alone; Yet doth remembrance, like a sovereign prince, For you a stately gallery maintain
Of gay or tragic pictures. You have seen, Have acted, suffer'd, travell'd far, observed With no incurious eye; and books are yours, Within whose silent chambers treasure lies Preserved from age to age: more precious far Than that accumulated store of gold And orient gems, which, for a day of need, The sultan hides within ancestral tombs These hoards of truth you can unlock at will: And music waits upon your skilful touch,
May issue thence, recruited for the tasks And course of service truth requires from those Who tend her altars, wait upon her throne, And guard her fortresses. Who thinks, and feels, And recognises ever and anon
The breeze of nature stirring in his soul, Why need such inan go desperately astray, And nurse the dreadful appetite of death!" If tired with systems-each in its degree Substantial, and all crumbling in their turn,— Let him build systems of his own, and smile At the fond work, demolish'd with a touch; If unreligious, let him be at once, Among ten thousand innocents, enroll'd A pupil in the many chamber'd school, Where superstition weaves her airy dreams. "Life's autumn past, I stand on winter's verge, And daily lose what I desire to keep; Yet rather would I instantly decline To the traditionary sympathies Of a most rustic ignorance, and take A fearful apprehension from the owl Or death-watch, and as readily rejoice, If two auspicious magpies cross'd my way; To this would rather bend than see and hear The repetitions wearisome of sense, Where soul is dead, and feeling hath no place; Where knowledge, ill begun in cold remark On outward things, with formal inference ends; Or, if the mind turn inward, 'tis perplex'd, Lost in a gloom of uninspired research; Meanwhile, the heart within the heart, the seat Where peace and happy consciousness should dwell, On its own axis restlessly revolves,
Yet nowhere finds the cheering light of truth.
Upon the breast of new-created earth
Man walk'd; and when and wheresoe'er he moved, Alone or mated, solitude was not.
He heard, upon the wind, the articulate voice Of God; and angels to his sight appear'd, Crowning the glorious hills of paradise;
Or through the groves gliding like morning mist Enkindled by the sun. He sate, and talk'd With winged messengers; who daily brought
Sounds which the wandering shepherd from these To his small island in the ethereal deep
Hears, and forgets his purpose; furnish'd thus, How can you droop, if willing to be raised?
"A piteous lot it were to flee from manYet not rejoice in nature. He-whose hours Are by domestic pleasures uncaress'd And unenliven'd; who exists whole years Apart from benefits received or done 'Mid the transactions of the bustling crowd; Who neither hears, nor feels a wish to hear, Of the world's interests-such a one hath need Of a quick fancy, and an active heart,
That, for the day's consumption, books may yield A not unwholesome food, and earth and air Supply his morbid humour with delight.
Tidings of joy and love. From these pure heights (Whether of actual vision, sensible
To sight and feeling, or that in this sort Have condescendingly been shadowed forth Communications spiritually maintain❜d, And intuitions moral and divine)
Fell human kind-to banishment condemn'd That flowing years repeal'd not; and distress And grief spread wide; but man escaped the doom Of destitution; solitude was not.
Jehovah-shapeless Power above all powers, Single and one, the omnipresent God,
By vocal utterance, or blaze of light, Or cloud of darkness, localized in heaven; On earth enshrined within the wandering ark;
Truth has her pleasure grounds, her haunts of ease Or, out of Zion, thundering from his throne
And easy contemplation,-gay parterres, And labyrinthine walks, her sunny glades And shady groves for recreation framed ; These may he range, if willing to partake Their soft indulgences, and in due time
Between the cherubim, on the chosen race Shower'd miracles, and ceased not to dispense Judgments, that fill'd the land from age to age With hope, and love, and gratitude, and fear; And with amazement smote: thereby t' assert
His scorn'd, or unacknowledged sovereignty. And when the One, ineffable of name, Of nature indivisible, withdrew From mortal adoration or regard, Not then was deity ingulf'd, nor man,
The rational creature, left, to feel the weight Of his own reason, without sense or thought, Of higher reason and a purer will,
To benefit and bless, through mightier power; Whether the Persian-zealous to reject Altar and image, and the inclusive walls And roofs of temples built by human hands- To loftiest heights ascending from their tops, With myrtle-wreath'd tiara on his brow, Presented sacrifice to moon and stars, And to the winds and mother elements, And the whole circle of the heavens, for him A sensitive existence, and a God, With lifted hands invoked, and songs of praise: Or, less reluctantly to bonds of sense Yielding his soul, the Babylonian framed For influence undefined a personal shape; And, from the plain, with toil immense, uprear'd Tower eight times planted on the top of tower; That Belus, nightly to his splendid couch Descending, there might rest; upon that height Pure and serene, diffused-to overlook Winding Euphrates, and the city vast Of his devoted worshippers, far-stretch'd, With grove, and field, and garden, interspersed ; Their town, and foodful region for support Against the pressure of beleaguring war. "Chaldean shepherds, ranging trackless fields, Beneath the concave of unclouded skies Spread like a sea, in boundless solitude, Look'd on the polar star, as on a guide And guardian of their course, that never closed His steadfast eye. The planetary five With a submissive reverence they beheld: Watch'd, from the centre of their sleeping flocks Those radiant Mercuries, that seem to move Carrying through ether, in perpetual round, Decrees and resolutions of the gods; And, by their aspects, signifying works Of dim futurity, to man reveal'd. The imaginative faculty was lord Of observations natural; and, thus
Led on, those shepherds made report of stars In set rotation passing to and fro, Between the orbs of our apparent sphere And its invisible counterpart, adorn'd With answering constellations, under earth, Removed from all approach of living sight, But present to the dead; who, so they deem'd, Like those celestial messengers beheld All accidents, and judges were of all.
"The lively Grecian, in a land of hills, Rivers, and fertile plains, and sounding shores, Under a cope of variegated sky,
Could find commodious place for every god, Promptly received, as prodigally brought, From the surrounding countries-at the choice Of all adventurers. With unrivall❜d skill, As nicest observation furnish'd hints For studious fancy, did his hand bestow On fluent operations a fix'd shape;
Metal or stone, idolatrously served, And yet triumphant o'er this pompous show Of art, this palpable array of sense, On every side encounter'd; in despite Of the gross fictions chanted in the streets By wandering rhapsodists; and in contempt Of doubt and bold denial hourly urged Amid the wrangling schools-a SPIRIT hung, Beautiful region! o'er thy towns and farms, Statues and temples, and memorial tombs ; And emanations were perceived; and acts Of immortality, in nature's course, Exemplified by mysteries, that were felt As bonds, on grave philosopher imposed And armed warrior; and in every grove A gay or pensive tenderness prevail'd, When piety more awful had relax'd. Take, running river, take these locks of mine'- Thus would the votary say-this sever'd hair, My vow fulfilling, do I here present, Thankful for my beloved child's return. Thy banks, Cephisus, he again hath trod, Thy murmurs heard; and drunk the crystal lymph With which thou dost refresh the thirsty lip, And moisten all day long these flowery fields!" And doubtless, sometimes, when the hair was shed Upon the flowing stream, a thought arose Of life continuous, being unimpair'd: That hath been, is, and where it was and is There shall endure,-existence unexposed To the blind walk of mortal accident; From dimunitions safe and weakening age; While man grows old, and dwindles, and decays; And countless generations of mankind Depart; and leave no vestige where they trod. "We live by admiration, hope, and love; And, e'en as these are well and wisely fix'd, In dignity of being we ascend.
But what is error?"-" Answer he who can!" The skeptic somewhat haughtily exclaim'd: "Love, hope, and admiration-are they not Mad fancy's favourite vassals? Does not life Use them, full oft, as pioneers to ruin, Guides to destruction? Is it well to trust Imagination's light when reason's fails, Th' unguarded taper where the guarded faints? Stoop from those heights, and soberly declare What error is; and, of our errors, which Doth most debase the mind; the genuine seats Of power, where are they? Who shall regulate, With truth, the scale of intellectual rank!" "Methinks," persuasively the sage replied, "That for this arduous office you possess Some rare advantages. Your early days A grateful recollection must supply Of much exalted good by Heaven vouchsafed To dignify the humblest state. Your voice Hath, in my hearing, often testified
That poor men's children, they, and they alone, By their condition taught, can understand The wisdom of the prayer that daily asks For daily bread. A consciousness is yours How feelingly religion may be learn'd In smoky cabins, from a mother's tongue- Heard while the dwelling vibrates to the din Of the contiguous torrent, gathering strength
At every moment, and, with strength, increase of fury; or, while snow is at the door, Assaulting and defending, and the wind, A sightless labourer, whistles at his work- Fearful, but resignation tempers fear, And piety is sweet to infant minds.
The shepherd lad, who in the sunshine carves, On the green turf, a dial, to divide The silent hours; and who to that report Can portion out his pleasures, and adapt His round of pastoral duties, is not left With less intelligence for moral things of gravest import. Early he perceives, Within himself, a measure and a rule, Which to the sun of truth he can apply, That shines for him, and shines for all mankind. Experience daily fixing his regards
On nature's wants, he knows how few they are, And where they lie, how answer'd and appeased. This knowledge ample recompense affords For manifold privations; he refers
His notions to this standard, on this rock Rests his desires; and hence, in after life, Soul-strengthening patience, and sublime content. Imagination-not permitted here
To waste her powers, as in the worldling's mind, On fickle pleasures, and superfluous cares And trivial ostentation-is left free And puissant to range the solemn walks Of time and nature, girded by a zone That, while it binds, invigorates and supports. Acknowledge, then, that whether by the side Of his poor hut, or on the mountain top, Or in the cultured field, a man so bred (Take from him what you will upon the score Of ignorance or illusion) lives and breathes For noble purposes of mind: his heart Beats to the heroic song of ancient days; His eye distinguishes, his soul creates. And those illusions, which excite the scorn Or move the pity of unthinking minds, Are they not mainly outward ministers Of inward conscience? with whose service charged They came and go, appear'd and disappear, Diverting evil purposes, remorse Awakening, chastening an intemperate grief Or pride of heart abating: and, whene'er For less important ends those phantoms move Who would forbid them, if their presence serve Among wild mountains and unpeopled heaths, Filling a space, else vacant, to exalt
The forms of nature, and enlarge her powers? "Once more to distant ages of the world Let us revert, and place before our thoughts The face which rural solitude might wear To th' unenlighten'd swains of pagan Greece. In that fair clime, the lonely herdsman, stretch'd On the soft grass through half a summer's day, With music lull'd his indolent repose: And in some fit of weariness, if he, When his own breath was silent, chanced to hear A distant strain, far sweeter than the sounds Which his poor skill could make, his fancy fetch'd, E'en from the blazing chariot of the sun A beardless youth, who touch'd a golden lute, And fill'd th' illumined groves with ravishment.
Towards the crescent moon, with grateful heart Call'd on the lovely wanderer who bestow'd That timely light, to share his joyous sport: And hence, a beaming goddess with her nymphs, Across the lawn and through the darksome grove (Not unaccompanied with tuneful notes
By echo multiplied from rock or cave)
Swept in the storm of chase, as moon and stars Glance rapidly along the clouded heaven, When winds are blowing strong. The traveller slaked
His thirst from rill or gushing fount, and thank'd The naiad. Sunbeams, upon distant hills Gliding apace, with shadows in their train, Might, with small help from fancy, be transform'd Into fleet oreads sporting visibly.
The zephyrs, fanning as they pass'd, their wings, Lack'd not, for love, fair objects whom they woo'd With gentle whisper. Wither'd boughs grotesque, Stripp'd of their leaves and twigs by hoary age,
From depth of shaggy covert peeping forth In the low vale, or on steep mountain side; And, sometimes, intermix'd with stirring horns Of the live deer, or goat's depending beard- These were the lurking satyrs, a wild brood Of gamesome deities; or Pan himself, The simple shepherd's awe-inspiring god!" As this apt strain proceeded, I could mark Its kindly influence, o'er the yielding brow Of our companion, gradually diffused While, listening he had paced the noiseless turf, Like one whose untired ear a murmuring stream Detains; but tempted now to interpose, He with a smile exclaim'd-
""Tis well you speak At a safe distance from our native land, And from the mansions where our youth was taught. The true descendants of those godly men Who swept from Scotland, in a flame of zeal, Shrine, altar, image, and the massy piles That harbour'd them, the souls retaining yet The churlish features of that after race Who fled to caves, and woods, and naked rocks, In deadly scorn of superstitious rites,
Or what their scruples construed to be such- How, think you, would they tolerate this scheme Of fine propensities, that tends, if urged Far as it might be urged, to sow afresh The weeds of Roman phantasy, in vain Uprooted; would re-consecrate our wells To good Saint Fillan and to fair Saint Anne; And from long banishment recall Saint Giles, To watch again with tutelary love
O'er stately Edinborough throned on crags ? A blessed restoration, to behold The patron, on the shoulders of his priests, Once more parading through her crowded streets; Now simply guarded by the sober powers Of science, and philosophy, and sense!"
This answer follow'd. "You have turn'd my thoughts
Upon our brave progenitors, who rose Against idolatry with warlike mind, And shrunk from vain observances, to lurk In caves, and woods, and under dismal rocks,
Deprived of shelter, covering, fire, and food; Why? for this very reason that they felt, And did acknowledge, wheresoe'er they moved, A spiritual presence, ofttimes misconceived; But still a high dependence, a divine Bounty and government, that fill'd their hearts With joy, and gratitude, and fear, and love: And from their fervent lips drew hymns of praise, That through the desert rang. Though favour'd less,
Far less, than these, yet such, in their degree, Were those bewilder'd pagans of old time. Beyond their own poor natures and above
And twice ten thousand interests, do yet prize This soul, and the transcendent universe, No more than as a mirror that reflects To proud self-love her own intelligence; That one, poor, infinite object, in the abyss Of infinite being, twinkling restlessly!
"Nor higher place can be assign'd to him And his compeers-the laughing sage of France. Crown'd was he, if my memory do not err, With laurel planted upon hoary hairs,
In sign of conquest by his wit achieved, And benefits his wisdom had conferr'd,
His tottering body was with wreaths of flowers
Than spring oft twines about a mouldering tree; Yet so it pleased a fond, a vain old man, And a most frivolous people. Him I mean Who penn'd, to ridicule confiding faith, This sorry legend; which by chance we found Piled in a nook, through malice, as might seem, Among more innocent rubbish." Speaking thus, With a brief notice when, and how, and where, We had espied the book, he drew it forth; And courteously, as if the act removed, At once, all traces from the good man's heart Of unbenign aversion or contempt, Restored it to its owner. "Gentle friend," Herewith he grasp'd the solitary's hand,
"You have known better lights and guides than these-
Ah! let not aught amiss within dispose A noble mind to practise on herself, And tempt opinion to support the wrongs Of passion: whatsoe'er be felt or fear'd, From higher judgment seats make no appeal To lower can you question that the soul Inherits an allegiance, not by choice
They look'd: were humbly thankful for the good| Opprest, far less becoming ornaments Which the warm sun solicited-and earth Bestow'd; were gladsome,-and their moral sense They fortified with reverence for the gods And they had hopes that overstepp'd the grave. "Now, shall our great discoverers," he exclaim'd, Raising his voice triumphantly, "obtain From sense and reason less than these obtain'd, Though far misled? Shall men for whom our age Unbaffled powers of vision hath prepared, T'explore the world without and world within, Be joyless as the blind? Ambitious souls- Whom earth, at this late season, hath produced To regulate the moving spheres, and weigh The planets in the hollow of their hand; And they who rather die than soar, whose pains Have solved the elements, or analyzed The thinking principle-shall they in fact Prove a degraded race? and what avails Renown, if their presumption make them such? O there is laughter at their work in heaven! Inquire of ancient wisdom: go, demand Of mighty nature, if 'twas ever meant That we should pry far off yet be unraised; That we should pore, and dwindle as we pore, Viewing all objects unremittingly In disconnexion dead and spiritless; And still dividing, and dividing still, Break down all grandeur, still unsatisfied With the perverse attempt, while littleness May yet become more little; waging thus An impious warfare with the very life Of our own souls! And if indeed there be An all-pervading spirit, upon whom Our dark foundations rest, could he design That this magnificent effect of power, The earth we tread, the sky that we behold By day, and all the pomp which night reveals, That these-and that superior mystery, Our vital frame, so fearfully devised, And the dread soul within it-should exist Only to be examined, ponder'd, search'd, Probed, vex'd, and criticised? Accuse me not Of arrogance, unknown wanderer as I am, If, having walk'd with nature threescore years, And offer'd, far as frailty would allow,
My heart a daily sacrifice to truth, I now affirm of nature and of truth,
Whom I have served, that their DIVINITY Revolts, offended at the ways of men
Sway'd by such motives, to such end employ'd; Philosophers, who, though the human soul Be of a thousand faculties composed,
To be cast off, upon an oath proposed By each new upstart notion? In the ports Of levity no refuge can be found,
No shelter, for a spirit in distress. He, who by wilful disesteem of life, And proud insensibility to hope, Affronts the eye of solitude, shall learn That her mild nature can be terrible; That neither she nor silence lack the power T' avenge their own insulted majesty. O blest seclusion! when the mind admits The law of duty; and can therefore move Through each vicissitude of loss and gain, Link'd in entire complacence with her choice; When youth's presumptuousness is mellow'd down, And manhood's vain anxiety dismiss'd; When wisdom shows her seasonable fruit, Upon the boughs of sheltering leisure hung In sober plenty; when the spirit stoops To drink with gratitude the crystal stream Of unreproved enjoyment; and is pleased To muse, and be saluted by the air Of meek repentance, wafting wall-flower scents From out the crumbling ruins of fall'n pride And chambers of transgression now forlorn. O, calm, contented days, and peaceful nights Who, when such good can be obtain'd, would strive To reconcile his manhood to a couch
Soft, as may seem, but, under that disguise
Stuff'd with the thorny substance of the past, For fix'd annoyance; and full oft beset With floating dreams, disconsolate and black, The vapory phantoms of futurity?
"Within the soul a faculty abides, That with interpositions, which would hide And darken, so can deal, that they become Contingencies of pomp ; and serve t' exalt Her native brightness. As the ample moon, In the deep stillness of a summer even Rising behind a thick and lofty grove, Burns like an unconsuming fire of light, In the green trees; and, kindling on all sides Their leafy umbrage, turns the dusky veil Into a substance glorious as her own, Yea, with her own incorporated, by power Capacious and serene; like power abides In man's celestial spirit; virtue thus Sets forth and magnifies herself; thus feeds A calm, a beautiful, and silent fire, From the encumbrances of mortal life, From error, disappointment,-nay, from guilt: And sometimes, so relenting justice wills, From palpable oppressions of despair."
The solitary by these words was touch'd
With manifest emotion, and exclaim'd,
For you, assuredly, a hopeful road Lies open we have heard from you a voice At every moment soften'd in its course By tenderness of heart; have seen your eye, Even like an altar lit by fire from heaven, Kindle before us. Your discourse this day, That, like the fabled lethe, wish'd to flow In creeping sadness, through oblivious shades Of death and night, has caught at every turn The colours of the sun. Access for you Is yet preserved to principles of truth, Which the imaginative will upholds In seats of wisdom, not to be approach'd By the inferior faculty that moulds, With her minute and speculative pains, Opinion, ever changing! I have seen A curious child, who dwelt upon a tract Of inland ground, applying to his ear The convolutions of a smooth-lipp'd shell; To which, in silence hush'd, his very soul Listen'd intensely; and his countenance soon Brighten'd with joy; for murmurings from within Were heard, sonorous cadences! whereby To his belief, the monitor express'd Mysterious union with its native sea. E'en such a shell the universe itself
"But how begin? and whence? The mind is free; Is to the ear of faith: and there are times,
Resolve, the haughty moralist would say,
This single act is all that we demand.
Alas such wisdom bids a creature fly
Whose very sorrow is, that time hath shorn
His natural wings! To friendship let him turn For succour; but perhaps he sits alone On stormy waters, in a little boat
That holds but him, and can contain no more! Religion tells of amity sublime
Which no condition can preclude: of one Who sees all suffering, comprehends all wants, All weakness fathoms, can supply all needs; But is that bounty absolute? His gifts, Are they not still, in some degree, rewards
For acts of service? Can his love extend
I doubt not, when to you it doth impart Authentic tidings of invisible things; Of ebb and flow, and ever during power; And central peace, subsisting at the heart Of endless agitation. Here you stand, Adore, and worship, when you know it not; Pious beyond the intention of your thought; Devout above the meaning of your will. Yes, you have felt, and may not cease to feel. Th' estate of man would be indeed forlorn If false conclusions of the reasoning power Made the eye blind, and closed the passages Through which the ear converses with the heart. Has not the soul, the being of your life, Received a shock of awful consciousness,
To hearts that own not him? Will showers of In some calm season, when these lofty rocks
When in the sky no promise may be seen, Fall to refresh a parch'd and wither'd land? Or shall the groaning spirit cast her load At the Redeemer's feet?"
In rueful tone, With some impatience in his mien he spake; Back to my mind rush'd all that had been urged To calm the sufferer when his story closed; I look'd for counsel as unbending now; But a discriminating sympathy
Stoop'd to this apt reply
"As men from men Do, in the constitution of their souls, Differ, by mystery not to be explain'd; And as we fall by various ways, and sink One deeper than another, self-condemn'd, Through manifold degrees of guilt and shame, So manifold and various are the ways Of restoration, fashion'd to the steps Of all infirmity, and tending all To the same point,-attainable by all; Peace in ourselves, and union with our God. 57
At night's approach bring down the unclouded sky To rest upon their circumambient walls;
A temple framing of dimensions vast, And yet not too enormous for the sound Of human anthems,-choral song, or burst Sublime of instrumental harmony
To glorify th' Eternal! What if these Did never break the stillness that prevails Here, if the solemn nightingale be mute, And the soft woodlark here did never chant Her vespers, nature fails not to provide Impulse and utterance. The whispering air Sends inspiration from the shadowy heights, And blind recesses of the cavern'd rocks; The little hills, and waters numberless, Inaudible by daylight, blend their notes With the loud streams: and often, at the hour When issue forth the first pale stars, is heard, Within the circuit of this fabric huge, One voice the solitary raven, flying Athwart the concave of the dark-blue dome, Unseen, perchance above all power of sight- An iron knell! with echoes from afar 2P 2
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