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-stretched,
With grove, and field, and garden, interspersed;
Their Town, and foodful Region for support
Against the pressure of beleaguering war.

« Chaldean Shepherds, ranging trackless fields,
Beneath the concave of unclouded skies
Spread like a sea, in boundless solitude,
Looked 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;
Watched, from the centre of their sleeping flocks
Those radiant Mercuries, that seemed 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 revealed.

-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, adorned
With answering Constellations, under earth,
Removed from all approach of living sight
But present to the Dead; who, so they deemed,
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 Adventures. With unrivalled skill,
As nicest observation furnished hints
For studious fancy, did his hand bestow
On fluent Operations a fixed Shape;
Metal or Stone, idolatrously served.

And yet-triumphant o'er this pompous show
Of Art, this palpable array of Sense,
On every side encountered; in despite
Of the gross fictions, chanted in the streets
By wandering Rhapsodists; and in contempt
Of doubt and bold denials 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 prevailed,
When piety more awful had relaxed.

-Take, running River, take these Locks of mine-
Thus would the Votary say-this severed hair,
My vow fulfilling, do I here present,
Thankful for my beloved Child's return.

Thy banks, Cephisus, he again bath 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 unimpaired!
That hath been, is, and where it was and is
There shall endure,-existence unexposed
To the blind walk of mortal accident;
From diminution 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 even as these are well and wisely fixed, In dignity of being we ascend.

But what is error?»-« Answer he who can!»
The Sceptic somewhat haughtily exclaimed,
« 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,

The 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 learned
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 answered 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, appeared 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 the unenlightened Swains of pagan Greece.
-In that fair Clime, the lonely Herdsman, stretched
On the soft grass through half a summer's day,
With music lulled 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 fetched,
Even from the blazing Chariot of the Sun,
A beardless Youth, who touched a golden lute,
And filled the illumined groves with ravishment.
The nightly Hunter, lifting up his eyes
Towards the crescent Moon, with grateful heart
Called on the lovely wanderer who bestowed
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 thanked
The Naiad.-Sunbeams, upon distant Hills
Gliding apace, with Shadows in their train,
Might, with small help from fancy, be transformed
Into fleet Oreads sporting visibly.

The Zephyrs, fanning as they passed, their wings,
Lacked not, for love, fair Objects, whom they wooed

With gentle whisper. Withered Boughs grotesque,
Stripped 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, intermixed 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 exclaimed

« '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 harboured 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 Romish 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 followed.-«You have turned 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, oft-times misconceived; But still a high dependence, a divine Bounty and government, that filled 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 favoured less, Far less, than these, yet such, in their degree, Were those bewildered Pagans of old time. Beyond their own poor Natures and above They looked; were humbly thankful for the good Which the warm Sun solicited-and Earth Bestowed; 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 exclaimed,
Raising his voice triumphantly, « obtain
From Sense and Reason less than These obtained,
Though far misled? Shall Men for whom our Age
Unbaffled powers of vision hath prepared,
To 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 dive than soar, whose pains
Have solved the elements, or analysed
The thinking principle-shall They in fact
Prove a degraded Race? and what avails
Renown, if their presumption make them such?
Oh! there is laughter at their work in Heaven!
Inquire of ancient Wisdom; go, demand
Of mighty Nature, if 't was 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, pondered, searched,
Probed, vexed, and criticised?-Accuse me not
Of
arrogance, unknown Wanderer as I am,
If, having walked with Nature threescore years,
And offered, 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

Swayed by such motives, to such end employed;
Philosophers, who, though the human Soul
Be of a thousand faculties composed,

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, finite Object, in the Abyss
Of infinite Being, twinkling restlessly!

«Nor higher place can be assigned to Him
And his Compeers-the laughing Sage of France.-
Crowned 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 conferred.
His tottering Body was with wreaths of flowers
Opprest, far less becoming ornaments

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 grasped 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 feared,
From higher judgment-seats make no appeal
To lower: can you question that the Soul
Inherits an allegiance, not by choice
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.
Hle, 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
To 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,
Linked in entire complacence with her choice;
When Youth's presumptuousness is mellowed down,
And Manhood's vain anxiety dismissed;
When Wisdom shews 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 fallen Pride
And chambers of Transgression, now forlorn.
O calm contented days, and peaceful nights!
Who, when such good can be obtained, would strive
To reconcile his Manhood to a couch
Soft, as may seem, but, under that disguise,
Stuffed with the thorny substance of the past,
For fixed annoyance; and full oft beset
With floating dreams, disconsolate and black,
The vapoury 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 to 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 incumbrances 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 touched
With manifest emotion, and exclaimed,

<< But how begin? and whence ?-The Mind is free;
Resolve-the haughty Moralist would say,
This single act is all that we demaud.
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

To hearts that own not Him? Will showers of grace,
When in the sky no promise may be seen,
Fall to refresh a parched and withered 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 rushed all that had been urged
To calm the Sufferer when his story closed;
I looked for counsel as unbending now;
But a discriminating sympathy

Stooped to this apt reply,

« As Men from Men
Do, in the constitution of their Souls,
Differ, by mystery not to be explained;
And as we fail by various ways, and sink
One deeper than another, self-condemned,
Through manifold degrees of guilt and shame,
So manifold and various are the ways
Of restoration, fashioned to the steps
Of all infirmity, and tending all

To the same point,-attainable by all;
Peace in ourselves, and union with our God.
For you, assuredly, a hopeful road
Lies open: we have heard from You a voice
Λι every moment softened 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, wished 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 approached
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-lipped Shell;
To which, in silence hushed, his very soul
Listened intensely; and his countenance soon
Brightened with joy; for murmurings from within
Were heard, sonorous cadences! whereby
To his belief, the Monitor expressed
Mysterious union with its native Sea.
Even such a Shell the Universe itself
Is to the ear of Faith; and there are times,
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.
The 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,

In some calm season, when these lofty Rocks

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 the 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 caverned rocks;
The little Rills, 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
Faint-and still fainter-as the cry, with which
The wanderer accompanies her flight
Through the calm region, fades upon the ear,
Diminishing by distance till it seem'd
To expire, yet from the Abyss is caught again
And yet again recovered!

But descending
From these Imaginative Heights, that yield
Far-stretching views into Eternity,
Acknowledge that to Nature's humbler power
Your cherished sullenness is forced to bend
Even here, where her amenities are sown
With sparing hand. Then trust yourself abroad
To range her blooming bowers, and spacious fields,
Where on the labours of the happy Throug
She smiles, including in her wide embrace
City, and Town, and Tower,-and Sea with Ships

Sprinkled ;-be our Companion while we track
Her rivers populous with gliding life;
While, free as air, o'er printless sands we march,
Or pierce the gloom of her majestic woods;
Roaming, or resting under grateful shade
In peace and meditative cheerfulness;
Where living Things, and Things inanimate,
Do speak, at Heaven's command, to eye and ear,
And speak to social Reason's inner sense,
With inarticulate language.

For the Man,

Who, in this spirit, communes with the Forms
Of Nature, who with understanding heart
Doth know and love such Objects as excite
No morbid passions, no disquietude,

No vengeance, and no hatred, needs must feel
The joy of that pure principle of Love
So deeply, that, unsatisfied with aught
Less pure and exquisite, he cannot chuse
But seek for objects of a kindred love
In Fellow-natures and a kindred joy.
Accordingly he by degrees perceives
His feelings of aversion softened down;
A holy tenderness pervade his frame.
His sanity of reason not impaired,

Say rather, all his thoughts now flowing clear,
From a clear Fountain flowing, he looks round
And seeks for good; and finds the good he seeks:
Until abhorrence and contempt are things
He only knows by name; and if he hear,

From other mouths, the language which they speak,
He is compassionate; and has no thought,
No feeling, which can overcome his love.

<< And further; by contemplating these Forms In the relations which they bear to Man,

He shall discern, how, through the various means
Which silently they yield, are multiplied
The spiritual Presences of absent Things.
Trust me, that for the Instructed, time will come
When they shall meet no object but may teach
Some acceptable lesson to their minds
Of human suffering, or of human joy.

So shall they learn, while all things speak of Man,
Their duties from all forms; and general laws,
And local accidents, shall tend alike

To rouse, to urge; and, with the will, confer
The ability to spread the blessings wide
Of true philanthropy. The light of love
Not failing, perseverance from their steps
Departing not, for them shall be confirmed
The glorious habit by which Sense is made
Subservient still to moral purposes,
Auxiliar to divine. That change shall clothe
The naked Spirit, ceasing to deplore
The burthen of existence. Science then
Shall be a precious Visitant; and then,
And only then, be worthy of her name.

For then her Heart shall kindle; her dull Eye,
Dull and inanimate, no more shall hang
Chained to its object in brute slavery;
But taught with patient interest to watch
The processes of things, and serve the cause
Of order and distinctness, not for this
Shall it forget that its most noble use,

Its most illustrious province, must be found
In furnishing clear guidance, a support
Not treacherous, to the Mind's excursive Power.
-So build we up the Being that we are;
Thus deeply drinking-in the Soul of Things
We shall be wise perforce; and while inspired
By choice, and conscious that the Will is free,
Unswerving shall we move, as if impelled
By strict necessity, along the path
Of order and of good. Whate'er we see,
Whate'er we feel, by agency direct
Or indirect shall tend to feed and nurse
Our faculties, shall fix in calmer seats
Of moral strength, and raise to loftier heights
Of love divine, our intellectual Soul.»>

Here closed the Sage that eloquent harangue, Poured forth with fervour in continuous stream; Such as, remote mid savage wilderness, An Indian Chief discharges from his breast Into the hearing of assembled Tribes, In open circle seated round, and hushed As the unbreathing air, when not a leaf Stirs in the mighty woods.-So did he speak : The words he uttered shall not pass away; For they sank into me-the bounteous gift Of One whom time and nature had made wise, Gracing his language with authority Which hostile spirits silently allow; Of One accustomed to desires that feed On fruitage gathered from the Tree of Life; To hopes on knowledge and experience built; Of One in whom persuasion and belief Had ripened into faith, and faith become A passionate intuition; whence the Soul, Though bound to Earth by ties of pity and love, From all injurious servitude was free.

The Sun, before his place of rest were reached, Had yet to travel far, but unto us, To us who stood low in that hollow Dell, He had become invisible,-a pomp Leaving behind of yellow radiance spread Upon the mountain sides, in contrast bold With ample shadows, seemingly no less Than those resplendent lights, his rich bequest, A dispensation of his evening power. -Adown the path that from the Glen had led The funeral Train, the Shepherd and his Mate Were seen descending;-forth to greet them ran Our little Page; the rustic Pair approach; And in the Matron's aspect may be read A plain assurance that the words which told How that neglected Pensioner was sent Before his time into a quiet grave,

Had done to her humanity no wrong:

But we are kindly welcomed-promptly served
With ostentatious zeal.-Along the floor
Of the small Cottage in the lonely Dell
A grateful Couch was spread for our repose;
Where, in the guise of Mountaineers, we slept,
Stretched upon fragrant heath, and lulled by sound
Of far-off Torrents charming the still night,
And to tired limbs and over-busy thoughts
Inviting sleep and soft forgetfulness.