And the vast hills, in fluctuation fix'd

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 will I 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,
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-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,

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 unprison'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 up, 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;

The measure of my soul was till'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.

"T is, by comparison, an easy task

Earth to despise; but, to converse with HeavenThis 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 reeds confess
That 't is 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

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

Mightst hold, on earth, communion undisturb'd-
Who from the anarchy of dreaming sleep,

Or from its death-like 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 motious of thy will;
For apprehension those transcendant truths
Of the pure Intellect, that stand as laws,
(Submission constituting strength and power)
Even to thy Being's infinite majesty!

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, 't is 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 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.
Oh no, full oft the innocent Sufferer sees
Too clearly; feels too vividly; and longs
To realize the Vision, with intense

And overconstant 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 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,
To 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! the endowment of immortal Power
Is matched unequally with custom, time,
And domineering faculties of sense
In all; in most with superadded foes,
Idle temptations-open vanities,
Ephemeral offspring of the unblushing world;
And, in the private regions of the mind,
Ill-governed passions, rauklings 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, renewed
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 enure submission to the law

Of Conscience; Conscience reverenced and obeyed,
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 disencumbered of her mortal chains,
Doubt shall be quelled 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 Poured forth his aspirations, and announced His judgments, near that lonely House we paced A plot of green-sward, 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 prevailed around us : and the Voice,
That spake, was capable to lift the soul
Tow'rd regions yet more tranquil. But, methought,
That He, whose fixed despondency had given
Impulse and motive to that strong discourse,
Was less upraised in spirit than abashed;
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 the unexpected transports of our Age
Carried so high, that every thought-which looked
Beyond the temporal destiny of the Kind-
To many seemed superfluous; as, no cause
For such exalted confidence could e'er
Exist; so, none is now for fixed despair;
The two extremes are equally disowned
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:
'Vain-glorious Generation! What new powers
On you have been conferred? 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 over-weening 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 Tartarian darkness overspreads
The groaning nations; when the Impious rule,
By will or by established 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 unhallowed principles; the Bad
Have fairly earned 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!1

«

Happy is He who lives to understandNot 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!»>

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
The 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, <«<lf, with the froward will and groveling soul Of Man offended, liberty is here,

And invitation every hour renewed,

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 replenished wing,
This shaded valley leaves,—and leaves the dark
Empurpled hills,-conspicuously renewing
A proud communication with the sun
Low sunk beneath the horizon!--List!-I heard,
From yon huge breast of rock, a solemu 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 expressed; from out the mountain's heart
The solemn bleat appeared 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 returned upon themselves,
And, in soft tone of speech, he thus resumed.

<«< Ah! if the heart, too confidently raised, Perchance too lightly occupied, or lulled Too casily, 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 trailing 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 feathered kinds; the Fieldfare's pensive flock,
The cawing Rooks, and Sea-mews from afar,
Hovering above these inland Solitudes,

By the rough wind unscattered, at whose call
Their voyage was begun: nor is its power
Cafelt among the sedentary Fowl

That seek you Pool, and there prolong their stay
In silent congress; or together roused

Take flight; while with their clang the air resounds.
And, over all, in that ethereal arch,

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 asked,
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 revealed! the Swains moved on,
And heeded not; you lingered, 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: distempered nerves
Infect the thoughts: the languor of the Frame
Depresses the Soul's vigour. Quit your Couch-
Cleave not so foudly to your moody Cell;

Nor let the hallowed Powers, that shed from heaven
Sullness 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 louely 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 performed; 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 Watch-tower; roll the stone
In thunder down the mountains: with all your might
Chase the wild Goat; and, if the bold 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 tow'rd the hills

A kindling eye;-poetic feelings rushed
Into my bosom, whence these words broke forth:
«Oh! 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

Out of an instrument; and, while the Streams-
(As at a first creation and in haste
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 grasped 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 expressed 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, suffered, travelled 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,-
Sounds which the wandering Shepherd from these
Heights

Hears, and forgets his purpose ;-furnished thus
How can you droop, if willing to be raised?

« A piteous lot it were to flee from Man-
Yet not rejoice in Nature. He-whose hours
Are by Domestic Pleasures uncaressed
And unenlivened; 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.
-Truth has her pleasure-grounds, her haunts of ease
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
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 recognizes ever and anon

The breeze of Nature stirring in his soul,
Why need such man 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-demolished with a touch:
If unreligious, let him be at once,
Among ten thousand Innocents, enrolled
A Pupil in the many-chambered 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 crossed 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, 't is perplexed,
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 walked; 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 appeared,
Crowning the glorious hills of Paradise ;

Or through the groves gliding like morning mist
Enkindled by the sun. He sate-and talked
With winged Messengers; who daily brought
To his small Island in the ethereal deep
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 maintained,
And Intuitions moral and divine)

Fell Human-kind-to banishment condemned
That flowing years repealed 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;
Or, out of Sion, thundering from his throne
Between the Cherubim-on the chosen Race
Showered miracles, and ceased not to dispense
Judgments, that filled the Land from age to age
With hope, and love, and gratitude, and fear;
And with amazement smote;-thereby to assert
His scorned, or unacknowledged Sovereignty.
And when the One, ineffable of name,
Of nature indivisible, withdrew
From mortal adoration or regard,
Not then was Deity engulfed, 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-wreathed 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, upreared