Abundant recompense. For I have learned Of thoughtless youth; but hearing oftentimes Nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power To chasten and subdue. And I have felt All thinking things, all objects of all thought, And rolls through all things. Therefore am I still A lover of the meadows and the woods, And mountains; and of all that we behold From this green earth; of all the mighty world Of eye, and ear, both what they half create,2 Nor perchance, If I were not thus taught, should I the more Suffer my genial spirits to decay: For thou art with me here upon the banks With quietness and beauty, and so feed Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb Into a sober pleasure; when thy mind For all sweet sounds and harmonies; oh! then, If solitude, or fear, or pain, or grief, Should be thy portion, with what healing thoughts Of tender joy wilt thou remember me, And these my exhortations! Nor, perchance If I should be where I no more can hear Thy voice, nor catch from thy wild eyes these gleams That on the banks of this delightful stream THE OLD CUMBERLAND BEGGAR 1798 1800 Observed, and with great benefit to my own heart, when I was a child: written at Racedown and Alfoxden in my twentythird year. The political economists were about that time beginning their war upon mendicity in all its forms, and by implication, if not directly, on alms-giving also. This heartless process has been carried as far as it can go by the AMENDED poor-law bill, though the inhumanity that prevails in this measure is somewhat disguised by the profession that one of its objects is to throw the poor upon the voluntary donations of their neighbours; that is, if rightly interpreted, to force them into a condition between relief in the Union poorhouse, and alms robbed of their Christian grace and spirit, as being forced rather from the benevolent than given by them; while the avaricious and selfish, and all in fact but the humane and charitable, are at liberty to keep all they possess from their distressed brethren. The class of Beggars, to which the Old Man here described belongs, will probably soon be extinct. It consisted of poor, and, mostly, old and infirm persons, who confined themselves to a stated round in their neighbourhood, and had certain fixed days, on which, at different houses, they regularly received alms, sometimes in money, but mostly in provisions. I SAW an aged Beggar in my walk; And he was seated by the highway side, Built at the foot of a huge hill, that they Who lead their horses down the steep rough road All white with flour, the dole of village dames, Upon the second step of that small pile, Him from my childhood have I known; and then He was so old, he seems not older now; He travels on, a solitary Man, So helpless in appearance, that for him The sauntering Horseman throws not with a slack And careless hand his alms upon the ground, But stops, that he may safely lodge the coin Within the old Man's hat; nor quits him so, |