By impulse sent from such illusive power,-
That finds and cannot fasten down; that grasps
And is rejoiced, and loses while it grasps;
That tempts, emboldens for a time sustains,
And then betrays; accuses and inflicts
Remorseless punishment; and so retreads
The inevitable circle: better far

326

Than this, to graze the herb in thoughtless

peace,

By foresight or remembrance undisturbed!

329

"Philosophy! and thou more vaunted name Religion! with thy statelier retinue, Faith, Hope, and Charity—from the visible

world

335

Choose for your emblems whatsoe'er ye find
Of safest guidance or of firmest trust-
The torch, the star, the anchor; nor except
The cross itself, at whose unconscious feet
The generations of mankind have knelt
Ruefully seized, and shedding bitter tears,
And through that conflict seeking rest-of

you,

High-titled Powers, am I constrained to ask,
Here standing, with the unvoyageable sky
In faint reflection of infinitude

Stretched overhead, and at my pensive feet
A subterraneous magazine of bones,

where?

340

345

In whose dark vaults my own shall soon be laid,
Where are your triumphs? your dominion
And in what age admitted and confirmed?
-Not for a happy land do I enquire,
Island or grove, na: hides a blessed few,
Who, with obedience willing and sincere,
To your serene authorities conform;
But whom, I ask, of individual Souls,

350

Have ye withdrawn from passion's crooked

ways,

Inspired, and thoroughly fortified? If the

heart

355

Could be inspected to its inmost folds
By sight undazzled with the glare of praise,
Who shall be named-in the resplendent line
Of sages, martyrs, confessors-the man
Whom the best might of faith, wherever fix'd,
For one day's little compass, has preserved 361
From painful and discreditable shocks
Of contradiction, from some vague desire
Culpably cherished, or corrupt relapse
To some unsanctioned fear?"

And Man," said I, "be in his noblest shape
Thus pitiably infirm; then, he who made,
And who shall judge the creature, will forgive.
-Yet, in its general tenor, your complaint
Is all too true; and surely not misplaced: 370
For, from this pregnant spot of ground, such
thoughts

Rise to the notice of a serious mind
By natural exhalation. With the dead
In their repose, the living in their mirth,
Who can reflect, unmoved, upon the round 375
Of smooth and solemnized complacencies,
By which, on Christian lands, from age to age
Profession mocks performance. Earth is sick,
And Heaven is weary, of the hollow words
Which States and Kingdoms utter when they

talk

380 Of truth and justice. Turn to private life And social neighbourhood; look we to ourselves;

A light of duty shines on every day

For all; and yet how few are warmed or cheered!

How few who mingle with their fellow-men 385
And still remain self-governed, and apart,
Like this our honoured Friend; and thence
acquire

Right to expect his vigorous decline,

That promises to the end a blest old age!"

"Yet," with a smile of triumph thus ex

claimed

The Solitary, "in the life of man,

If to the poetry of common speech
Faith may be given, we see as in a glass
A true reflection of the circling year,

390

394

With all its seasons. Grant that Spring is there, In spite of many a rough untoward blast, Hopeful and promising with buds and flowers; Yet where is glowing Summer's long rich day, That ought to follow faithfully expressed? And mellow Autumn, charged with bounteous fruit, Where is she imaged? in what favoured clime Her lavish pomp, and ripe magnificence? -Yet, while the better part is missed, the worse In man's autumnal season is set forth With a resemblance not to be denied, And that contents him; bowers that hear no

more

400

405

The voice of gladness, less and less supply
Of outward sunshine and internal warmth;
And, with this change, sharp air and falling

leaves,

Foretelling aged Winter's desolate sway.

"How gay the habitations that bedeck This fertile valley! Not a house but seems To give assurance of content within; Embosomed happiness, and placid love;

410

415

As if the sunshine of the day were met
With answering brightness in the hearts of all
Who walk this favoured ground. But chance
regards,

And notice forced upon incurious ears;
These, if these only, acting in despite
Of the encomiums by my Friend pronounced 420
On humble life, forbid the judging mind
To trust the smiling aspect of this fair
And noiseless commonwealth. The simple race
Of mountaineers (by nature's self removed
From foul temptations, and by constant care
Of a good shepherd tended, as themselves 426
Do tend their flocks) partake man's general lot
With little mitigation. They escape,
Perchance, the heavier woes of guilt; feel not
The tedium of fantastic idleness:
Yet life, as with the multitude, with them
Is fashioned like an ill-constructed tale;
That on the outset wastes its gay desires,
Its fair adventures, its enlivening hopes,
And pleasant interests-for the sequel leaving
Old things repeated with diminished grace;
And all the laboured novelties at best
Imperfect substitutes, whose use and power
Evince the want and weakness whence they
spring."

430

434

While in this serious mood we held discourse, The reverend Pastor toward the church-yard

gate Approached; and, with a mild respectful air Of native cordiality, our Friend

441

Advanced to greet him. With a gracious mien Was he received, and mutual joy prevailed. 445 Awhile they stood in conference, and I guess That he, who now upon the mossy wall

Sate by my side, had vanished, if a wish
Could have transferred him to the flying clouds,
Or the least penetrable hiding-place

In his own valley's rocky guardianship.

450

-For me, I looked upon the pair, well pleased: Nature had framed them both, and both were marked

455

By circumstance, with intermixture fine
Of contrast and resemblance. To an oak
Hardy and grand, a weather-beaten oak,
Fresh in the strength and majesty of age,
One might be likened: flourishing appeared,
Though somewhat past the fulness of his prime,
The other like a stately sycamore,
That spreads, in gentle pomp, its honied shade.

460

A general greeting was exchanged; and soon The Pastor learned that his approach had given A welcome interruption to discourse

466

470

Grave, and in truth too often sad.“ Is Man
A child of hope? Do generations press
On generations, without progress made?
Halts the individual, ere his hairs be grey,
Perforce? Are we a creature in whom good
Preponderates, or evil? Doth the will
Acknowledge reason's law? A living power
Is virtue, or no better than a name,
Fleeting as health or beauty, and unsound?
So that the only substance which remains,
(For thus the tenor of complaint hath run) 475
Among so many shadows, are the pains
And penalties of miserable life,

Doomed to decay, and then expire in dust!
-Our cogitations this way have been drawn,
These are the points," the Wanderer said,

which

on

480

Our inquest turns.-Accord, good Sir! the light