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, tow'rd the unviolated woods,
I bent my way; and, roaming far and wide,
Failed not to greet the merry mocking-bird;
And while the inelancholy muccawiss
(The sportive bird's companion in the grove)
Repeated o'er and o'er his plaintive cry,
I sympathised at leisure with the sound;
But that pure archetype of human greatness,
I found him not. There, in his stead, appeared
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
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
Perchance a roar or 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 passed; and quickly,
That respite o'er, like traverses and toils
Must be again encountered. Such a stream
Is human life; and so the spirit fares
In the best quiet to its course allowed:
And such is mine-save only for a hope
That my particular current soon will reach
Th' unfathomable gulf where all is still!"
State of feeling produced by the foregoing narrative-A belief in a superintending Provi dence the only adequate support under affliction-Wanderer's ejaculation to the Supreme Being-Account of his own devotional feelings in youth involved in it-Implores that he may retain in age the power to find repose among enduring and eternal thingsWhat these latter are-Acknowledges the difficulty of a lively faith-Hence immoderate sorrrow-But doubt or despondency not therefore to be inferred-And proceeds to administer consolation to the Solitary-Exhortations-How these are received-Wanderer resumes-And applies his discourse to that other cause of dejection in the Solitary's mind, the disappointment of his expectations from the French Revolution-States the rational grounds of hope-And insists on the necessity of patience and fortitude with respect to the course of the great revolutions of the world-Knowledge the source of tranquillity-Rural life and solitude particularly favourable to a knowledge of the inferior creatures-Study of their habits and ways recommended on the affections and the imagination-Exhortation to bodily exertion and an active communion with Nature -Morbid solitude a pitiable thing-If the elevated imagination cannot be exerted, try the humbler fancy-Superstition better than apathy-Apathy and destitution unknown in the infancy of society-The various modes of Religion prevented it-This illustrated in the Jewish, Persian, Babylonian, Chaldean, and Grecian modes of belief-Solitary interposes-Wanderer, in answer, points out the influence of religious and imaginative feeling on the mind in the humble ranks of society, in rural life especially-This illustrated from present and past times-Observation that 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 philo sophers, whom the Solitary appears to esteem-Recommends to him other lights and guides-Asserts the power of the soul to regenerate herself-Solitary agitated, and asks how-Reply-Personal appeal-Happy for us that the imagination and affections, in our own despite, mitigate the evils of that state of intellectual slavery which the calculating understanding is so apt to produce-Exhortation to activity of body renewed-How Nature is to be communed with-Wanderer concludes with a prospect of a legitimate union of the imagination, the affections, the understanding, and the reason-Effect of the Wanderer's 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 tempered, 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 disturbed, is ordered by a Being
Of infinite benevolence and power,
Whose everlasting purposes embrace
All accidents, converting them to good.
The darts of anguish fix 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 spirits, 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 fixed
At Thy command, how awful! Shall the soul,
Human and rational, report of Thee,
Even less than these? Be mute who will, who can,
Yet I will praise Thee with impassioned 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
Reared for thy presence: therefore am I bound
To worship, here and everywhere, as one
Not doomed to ignorance, though forced to tread,
From childhood up, the ways of poverty;
From unreflecting ignorance preserved,
And from debasement rescued.
The particle divine remained unquenched;
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,
Inspire me with ability to seek
Repose and hope among eternal things
Father of heaven and earth!-and I am rich,
And will possess my portion in content.
"And what are things eternal?-Powers depart,"
The grey-haired Wanderer steadfastly replied,
Answering the question which himself had asked,
"Possessions vanish, and opinions change,
And passions hold a fluctuating seat:
But, by the storms of circumstance unshaken,
And subject neither to eclipse or 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 sustained-Thou, who didst wrap the cloud
Of infancy around us, that Thyself,
Therein, with our simplicity awhile,
Mightst hold, on earth, communion undisturbed-
Who, from the anarchy of dreaming sleep,
Or from its death-like void, with punctual care,
And touch as gentle as the morning light,
Restor'st 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)
Even to Thy Being's infinite majesty !
This universe shall pass away-a frame
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 unimprisoned 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 allowed me to remember
What visionary powers of eye and soul
In youth were mine; when, stationed on the top
Of some huge hill, expectant, I beheld
The sun rise up, from distant climes returned
Darkness to chase, and sleep, and bring the day,
His bounteous gift!-or saw him towards the deep
Sink, with a retinue of flaming clouds
Attended; then my spirit was entranced
With joy exalted to beatitude;
The measure of my soul was filled 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 t' aspire
Heaven ward, 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 loosened 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 reached 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 hallowed and ordained,
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
In framing estimates of loss and gain,
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
Insures to all believers? Yet mistrust
Is of such incapacity, methinks,
No natural branch; despondency far less.
And, if there be whose tender frames have drooped
Even 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 impaired
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 the innocent sufferer sees
Too clearly, feels too vividly, and longs
To realize the vision with intense
And over-constant yearning: there, there lies
The excess, by which the balance is destroyed.
Too, too contracted are these walls of flesh,
This vital warmth too cold, these visual orbs,
Though inconceivably endowed, 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 sleep, nor craving, but in settled peace-
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