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And this Survivor, with his cheerful throng

The Well-beloved, the Fortunate, the Wise Of open schemes, and all his inward hoard

These Titles Emperors and Chiefs have borne, Of unsunned griefs, too many and too keen,

Honour assumed or given: and Him, the WONDERFLL, Was overcome by unexpected sleer,

Our simple Shepherds, speaking from the heart, In one blest moment. Like a shadow thrown

Deservedly have styled.- From his Abode Softly and lightly from a passing cloud,

Ja a dependent Chapelry, that lies Death fell upon him, while reclined he lay

Behind yon hill, a poor and rugged wild, For noon-tide solace on the summer grass,

Which in his soul he lovingly embraced, The warm lap of his Mother Earth: and so,

And, having once espoused, would never quit ;
Their lepient term of separation past,

Hither, ere long, that lowly, great, good Man
That Family (whose graves you there behold) will be conveyed. An unelaborate Stone
By yet a higher privilege, once more

May cover him; and by its help, perchance,
Were gathered to each other.»

A century shall bear his name pronounced,
Calm of mind

With images attendant on the sound;
And silence waited on these closing words;

Then, shall the slowly gathering twilight close Until the Wanderer (whether moved by fear

In utter night; and of his course remain
Lest in those passages of life were some

No cognizable vestiges, po more
That might have touched the sick heart of his Friend Than of this breath, which shapes itself in words
Too nearly, or intent to reinforce

To speak of him, and instantly dissolves.
His own firm spirit ia degree deprest

-Noise is there not enough in doleful war, By tender sorrow for our mortal state)

But that the heaven-born poet must stand forth, Thus silence broke: : « Behold a thoughtless Man

And lend the echoes of his sacred shell, From vice and premature decay preserved

To multiply and aggravate the din? By useful habits, to a fitter soil

Pangs are there not enough in hopeless loveTransplanted ere too late.—The Hermit, lodged And, in requited passion, all too much lu the untrodden desert, tells his beads,

Of turbulence, anxiety, and fearWith each repeating its allotted prayer,

But that the Minstrel of the rural shade And thus divides and thus relieves the time;

Must tune his pipe, insidiously to nurse Smooth task, with his compared, whosc mind could The perturbation in the suffering brease, string,

And propagate its kind, where'er he may! Not scantily, bright minutes on the thread

-Al who (and with such rapture as befits Of keen domestic anguishı, -and beguile

The hallowed theme) will rise and celebrate
A solitude, unclosen, unprofessed;

The good Man's deeds and purposes; retrace
Till gentlest death released him.- Far from us Ilis struggles, his discomfiture deplore,
Be the desire too curiously to ask

Bis triumphs hail, and glorify his end? llow much of this is but the blind result

That Virtue, like the fumes and vapoury clouds Of cordial spirits and vital temperament,

Through Fancy's heat redounding in the brain, And what to higher powers is justly due.

And like the soft infections of the heart, But you, Sir, know that in a neighbouring Vale By charm of measured words may spread o'er field, A Priest abides before whose life such doubts

Hamlet, and town; and Piety survive Fall to the ground; whose gifts of Nature lie

Upop the lips of Men in hall or bower; Retired from notice, lost in attributes

Not for reproof, but high and warm delight, Of Reason, -honourably effaced by debts

And grave encouragement, by song inspired. Which hier poor treasure-lıouse is content to owe,

-Vain thought! but wherefore murmur or repine' And conquests over lier dominion gained,

The memory of the just survives in heaven: To which her frowardness must needs submit.

And, without sorrow, will this ground receive To this one Man is shown a temperance-proof

That venerable clay. Meanwhile the best Against all trials; industry severe

Of what it holds confines us to degrees
And constant as the motion of the day;

In excellence less difficult to reach,
Stern self-denial round liim spread, with shade And milder worth: nor need we travel far
That might be deemed forbidding, did not there From those to whom our last regards were pard,
generous feelings flourish and rejoice;

For such example.
Forbearance, charity in deed and thought,

Almost at the root And resolution competent to take

Of that tall Pine, the shadow of whose bare Out of the bosom of simplicity

And slender stem, while here I sit at eve, All that her holy customs recommend,

Oft stretches tow'rds me, like a long straight path And the best ages of the world prescribe.

Traced faintly in the greensward; there, beneath -Preaching, administering, in every work

A plain blue Stone, a gentle Dalesman lies, Of his sublime vocation, in the walks

From whom, in early childhood, was withdrawn Of worldly intercourse 't wixt man and man,

The precious gift of hearing. He grew up And in his humble dwelling, he appears

From year to year in loneliness of soul; A Labourer, with moral virtue girt,

And this deep mountain Valley was to him With spiritual graces, like a glory, crowned,»

Soundless, with all its streams. The bird of dawn

Did never rouse this Cottager from sleep « Doubt can be done, » the Pastor said, « for whom With startling summons; not for his delight This Portraiture is sketched.--The Great, the Good, The vernal cuckoo shouted; not for bim

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How long, and by what kindly outward aids,
And in what pure contentedness of mind,
The sad privation was by bim endured.
-And yon tall Pine-tree, whose composing sound
Was wasted on the good Man's living ear,
Hath now its own peculiar sanctity;
And, at the touch of every wandering breeze,
Murmurs, not idly, o'er his peaceful grave.

Murmured the labouring bee. When stormy wiods
Were workiog the broad bosom of the lake
loto a thousand thousand sparkling waves,
Rocking the trees, or driving cloud on cloud
Along the sharp edge of yon lofty crags,
The agitated scene before his

eye
! Was silent as a picture: evermore
I Were all things silent, wheresoe'er he moved.
| Yet, by the solace of his own pure thoughts

('pheld, he duteously pursued the round
I of rural labours; the steep mountain-side

Ascended with his staff and faithful dog;
The plough he guided, and the scythe he swayed ;
And the ripe corn before bis sickle fell
Among the jocund reapers. For himself,
All watchful and industrious as he was,
He wrought not; neither field por tlock he owned:

No wish for wealth had place within his mind;
| Nor husband's love, nor father's hope or care.
| Though born a younger Brother, need was none

That from the floor of his paternal home
He should depart, to plant himself anew.
And when, mature in manhood, he beheld
His Parents laid in earth, no loss ensued
Of rights to him; but he remained well pleased,
By the pure bond of independent love
Ao inmate of a second family,
The fellow-labourer and friend of him
To whom the small inheritance had fallen.
-Nor deem that his mild presence was a weight
That pressed upon his brother's house, for books
Were ready comrades whom he could not tire,-
Of whose society the blameless Man
Was never satiate. Their familiar voice,
Even to old age, with unabated charm
Beguiled his leisure hours; refreshed his thoughts ;
Beyond its natural elevation raised
His introverted spirit; and bestowed
l'pon his life an outward dignity
Which all acknowledged. The dark winter night,
The stormy day, had each its own resource ;
Song of the muses, sage historic tale,
Science severe, or word of Holy Writ
Announcing immortality and joy
To the assembled spirits of the just,
From imperfection and decay secure.
– Thus soothed at home, thus busy in the field,
To no perverse suspicion he gave way,
No languor, peevishness, nor vain complaint :
And they, who were about him, did not fail
la reverence, or in courtesy; they prized
His gentle manners :--and his peaceful smiles,
The gleams of his slow-varying countenance,
Were met with answering sympathy and love.

« Soul-cheering Light, most bountiful of Things!
Guide of our way, mysterious Comforter !
Whose sacred influence,spread through earth and heaven,
We all too thanklessly participate,
Thy gifts were utterly withheld from Him
Whose place of rest is near yon ivied Porch.
Yet, of the wild brooks ask if he complained ;
Ask of the channelled rivers if they held
A safer, easier, more determined course.
What terror doth it strike into the mind
To think of One, who cannot see, advancing
Towards some precipice's airy brink!
But, timely warned, He would have stayed his steps ;
Protected, say enlightened, by his ear,
And on the very edge of vacancy
Not more endangered than a Man whose eye
Beholds the gulf beneath.-No floweret blooms
Throughout the lofty range of these rough hills,
Or in the woods, that could from him conceal
Its birth-place; none whose figure did not live
Upon his touch. The bowels of the earth
Enriched with knowledge bis industrious mind;
The ocean paid bim tribute from the stores
Lodged in her bosom ; and, by science led,
His genius mounted to the plains of Heaven.

- Methinks I see him-how his eye-balls rolled,
Beneath his ample brow, in darkness paired, -
But each instinct with spirit; and the frame
Of the whole countenance alive with thought,
Fancy, and understanding; while the voice
Discoursed of natural or moral truth
With eloquence, and such authentic power,
That, in his presence, humbler knowledge stood
Abashed, and tender pity overawed.»

a At length, when sixty years and five were told, A slow disease insensibly consumed The powers of nature: and a few short steps Of friends and kindred bore him from his home

(Yon Cottage shaded by the woody crags) | To the profounder stillness of the grave.

Nor was his funeral denied the grace
Of many tears, virtuous and thoughtful grief;
lleart-sorrow rendered sweet by gratitude.
And now that monumental Stone

preserves His name, and unambitiously relates

« A noble-and, to unreflecting minds, A marvellous spectacle,» the Wanderer said, « Beings like these present! But proof abounds Upon the earth that faculties, which seem Extinguished, do not, therefore, cease to be. And to the mind among her powers of sense This transfer is permitted, -not alone That the bereft their recompense may win; But for remoter purposes of love And charity; nor last nor least for this, That to the imagination may be given А type

and shadow of an awful truth; How, likewise, under sufferance divine, Darkness is banished from the realms of Death, By man's imperishable spirit, quelled. Unto the men who see not as we see Futurity was thought, in ancient times, To be laid open, and they prophesied. And know we not that from the blind have flowed The highest, holiest, raptures of the lyre ; And wisdom married to immortal verse!»

Among the humbler Worthies, at our feet Lying insensible to human praise, Love, or regret,—whose lineaments would next Have been pourtrayed, I guess pot; but it chanced That near the quiet church-yard where we sate A Team of horses, with a ponderous freight Pressing behind, adown a rugged slope, Whose sharp descent confounded their array, Came at that moment, ringiog noisily.

« Here,» said the Pastor, « do we muse, and mourn The waste of death; and lo! the giant Oak Stretched on his bier;—that massy timber wain; Nor fail to note the Man who guides the team.»

He was a Peasant of the lowest class : Grey locks profusely round his temples hung In clustering curls, like ivy, which the bite Of Winter cannot thin; the fresh air lodged Within his cheek, as light within a cloud; And he returned our greeting with a smile. When he had passed, the Solitary spake; -« A Man he seems of cheerful yesterdays And confident to-morrows, with a face Not worldly-minded; for it bears too much Of Nature's impress, -gaiety and health, Freedom and hope; but keen, withal, and shrewd. Dis gestures note,--and hark! his tones of voice Are all vivacious as his mien apd looks.»

The Pastor answered. « You have read him well. Year after year is added to his store With silent increase : summers, winters--past, Past or to come; yea, boldly might I say, Ten summers and ten winters of a space That lies beyond life's ordinary bounds, Upon his sprightly vigour cappot fix The obligation of an anxious mind, A pride in having, or a fear to lose ; Possessed like outskirts of some large Domain, By any one more thought of than by him Who holds the land in fee, its careless Lord!

- Yet is the creature rational-endowed
With foresight; hears, 100, every Sabbath day,
The Christian promise with attentive ear;
Nor will, I trust, the Majesty of Ileaven
Reject the incense offered up by him,
Though of the kind which beasts and birds present
In grove or pasture; checrfulness of soul,
From trepidation and repining free.
How many scrupulous worshippers fall down
Upon their knees, and daily homage pay
Less worthy, less religious even, than his!

« This qualified respect, the Old Man's due,
Is paid without reluctance; but in truth,»
(Said the good Vicar with a fond half-smile)
«I feel al times a motion of despite
Tow'rds One, whose bold contrivances and skill,
As you have seen, bear such conspicuous part
In works of havoc; taking from these vales,
One after one, their proudest oroaments.
Full oft his doings leave me to deplore
Tall ash-tree sown by winds, by vapours nursed,
In the dry crannies of the pendent rocks;
Light birch, aloft upon the horizon's edge,
A vcil of glory for the ascending moon;

And oak whose roots by noontide dew were damped,
And on whose forehead inaccessible
The raven lodged in safety.- Many a Ship
Launched into Morecamb Bay, to him hath owed
Her strong knee-limbers, and the mast that bears
The loftiest of her pendants. He, from Park
Or Forest, fetched the enormous axle-tree
That whirls (how slow itself!) ten thousand spindles:-
And the vast engine labouring in the mine,
Content with meaner prowess, must have lacked
'The trunk and body of its marvellous strength,
If his undaunted enterprise had failed
Among the mountain coves.

Yon household Fir,
A guardian planted to fence off the blast,
But towering high the roof above, as if
Its humble destination were forgot ;
That Sycamore, which annually holds
Within its shade, as in a stately tent
On all sides open to the fanning breeze,
A grave assemblage, seated while they shear
The fleece-incumbered flock;-the Joyful Elm,
Around whose trunk the Maidens dance in May;-
And the Lord's OAK;-would plead their several rights
In vain, if He were master of their fate;
His sentence to the axe would doom them all.
-- But, green in age and Justy as be is,
And promising to keep his hold on earth
Less, as might seem, in rivalship with men
Than with the forest's more enduring growth,
His own appointed hour will come at last;
And, like the haughty Spoilers of the world,
This keen Destroyer, in his turn, must fall.

« Now from the living pass we once again :
From Age,» the Priest continued, « turn your thoughts,
From Age, that often unlamented drops,
And mark that daisied hillock, three spans long!
-Seven lusty Sons sate daily round the board
Of Gold-rill side; and when the hope had ceased
Of other progeny, a Daughter then
Was given, the crowning bounty of the whole;
And so acknowledged with a tremulous joy
Felt to the centre of that heavenly calm
With which by nature every Mother's Soul
Is stricken, in the moment when her throes
Are ended, and her ears have heard the cry
Which tells her that a living Child is born,-
And she lies conscious, in a blissful rest,
That the dread storm is weathered by them both.
- The Father-Him at this unlooked-for gift

bolder transport seizes. From the side
Of his bright hearth, and from his open door;
Day after day the gladness is diffused
To all that come, and almost all that pass;
Invited, summoned, to partake the cheer
Spread on the never-empty board, and drink
Health and good wishes to his new-born Girl,
From cups replenished by his joyous hand.

– Those seven fair Brothers variously were moved
Each by the thoughts best suited to his years:
But most of all and with most thankful mind
The boary Grandsire felt himself enriched;
A happiness that ebbed pot, but remained
To fill the total measure of the soul !
- From the low tenement, luis own abode,

Tell in their idle songs of wandering Gods,
Pan or Apollo, veiled in human form;
Yet, like the sweet-breathed violet of the shade,
Discovered in their own despite to sense
Of Mortals (if such fables without blame
May find Chance-mention on this sacred ground)
So, through a simple rustic garb's disguise,
And through the impediment of rural cares,
In him revealed a Scholar's genius shove ;
And so, not wholly hidden from men's sight,
In him the spirit of a Hero walked
Our unpretending valley.-How the coil
Whizzed from the Stripling's arm! If touched by him,
The inglorious foot-ball mounted to the pitch
Of the lark's flight, -

,-or shaped a rainbow curve,
Aloft, in prospect of the shouting field !
The indefatigable fox had learued
To dread his perseverance in the chase.
With admiration would he lift his eyes
To the wide-ruling eagle, and his band
Was Joth to assault the majesty he loved ;
Else had the strongest fastnesses proved weak
To guard the royal brood. The sailing glead,
The wheeling swallow, and the darting snipe,
The sportive sea-gull dancing with the waves,
And cautious water-fowl, from distant climes,
Fixed at their seat, the centre of the Mere,
Were subject to young Oswald's steady aim.

Whither, as to a little private cell,
He had withdrawn from bustle, care, and noise,
To spend the Sabbath of old age in

peace,
Once every day he duteously repaired
To rock ibe cradle of the slumbering Babe :
For in that female Infant's name he heard
The silent Name of his departed Wife;
Heart-stirring music! hourly heard that name;
Full blest he was. ' Another Margaret Green,'
Oft did he say, “was come to Gold-rill side.'
-Ob! pang uuthought of, as the precious boon
Jiself had been unlooked for;-oh! dire stroke
Of desolating anguish for them all!

- Just as the Child could totter on the floor,
And, by some friendly finger's help upstayed,
Range round the garden walk, while She perchance
Was catching at some novelty of Spring,
Ground-dower, or glossy insect from its cell
Drawn by the sunshine-at that hopeful season
The winds of March, smiling insidiously,
Raised in the tender passage of the throat
Viewless obstruction; whence-all unforewarned,
The Household lost their pride and soul's delight.
- But Time hath power to soften all regrets,
And prayer and thought can bring to worst distress
Due resignation. Therefore, though some tears
Fail not to spring from either Parent's eye
Oft as they hear of sorrow like their own,
Yet this departed Little one, too long
The innocent troubler of their quiet, sleeps
In what may now be called a peaceful grave.

« On a bright day, the brightest of the year, These mountains echoed with an unknown sound, A volley, thrice repeated o'er the Corse Lei down into the hollow of that Grave, Whose shelving sides are red with paked mould. Ye Rains of April, duly wel this earth! Spare, burning Sun of Midsummer, these sods, That they may knit together, and there with Our thoughts unite in kindred quietness! Nor so the Valley shall forget her loss. Dear Youth, by young and old alike beloved, To me as precious as my own !--Green herbs May creep (I wish that they would softly creep) Over thy last abode, and we may pass

Reminded less imperiously of thee ;--
| The ridge itself may siuk into the breast

Of earth, the great abyss, and be no more;
Yet shall not thy remembrance leave our hearts,
Thy image disappear!

The mountain Ash
No eye can overlook, when mid a grove
Of yet unfaded trees she lifts her head
Decked with autumnal berries, that outshine
Springs richest blossoms; and ye may have marked
By a brook side or solitary tarn,
llow she ber station doth adorn; the pool
Glows at her feet, and all the gloomy rocks
Are brightened round her. In his native Vale
Such and so glorious did this Youth appear;
A sight that kindled pleasure in all hearts
By his ingenuous beauty, by the gleam
of his fair eyes, by his capacious brow,
By all the graces with which Nature's hand
Had lavishly arrayed him. As old Bards

« From Gallia's coast a Tyrant hurled his threats; Our Country marked the preparation vast Of hostile Forces; and she called-with voice That filled her plains and reached her utmost shores, And in remotest vales was heard-to Arms! -Then, for the first time, here you might have seen The Shepherd's grey to martial scarlet changed, That flashed uncouthly through the woods and fields. Ten hardy Striplinirs, all in bright attire, And graced with shining weapons, weekly marched, From this lone valley, to a central spot Where, in assemblage with the Flower and Choice of the surrounding district, they might learn The rudiments of war; ten--hardy, strong, And valiant; but young Oswald, like a Chief And yet a modest Comrade, led them forth From their shy solitude, to face the world, With a gay confidence and seemly pride ; Measuring the soil beneath their happy feet Like Youths released from labour, and yet bound To most laborious service, though to them A festival of unencumbered ease; The inner spirit keeping holiday, Like vernal ground to sabbath sunshine left.

« Oft have I marked him, at some leisure lour, Stretched on the grass or seated in the shade Among his Fellows, while an ample Map Before their eyes lay carefully outspread, From which the gallant Teacher would discourse, Now pointing this way and now that.—Here tlows, Thus would he say, 'the Rhine, that famous stream! Eastward, the Danube tow'rd this inland sea, A mightier river, winds from realm to realm;-And, like a serpent, shews his glittering back Despotted with innumerable isles. llere reigns the Russian, there the Turk; observe

Dis capital city!—Thence-along a tract
Of livelier interest to his hopes and fears
His finger moved, distinguishing the spots
Where wide-spread conflict then most fiercely raged;
Nor left unstigmatized those fatal Fields
On which the Sons of mighty Germany
Were taught a base submission.—llere behold
A nobler race, the Switzers, and their Land;
Vales deeper far than these of ours, huge woods,
And mountains while with everlasting snow!

- And, surely, he, that spake with kindling brow,
Was a true Patriot, hopeful as the best
Of that youny Peasantry, who, in our days,
Have fought and perished for Helvetia's rights, –
Ah, not in vain !-or those who, in old time,
For work of happier issue, to the side
Of Tell came trooping from a thousand buts,
When he had risen alone! No braver Youth
Descended from Judean heights, to march
With righteous Joshua; or appeared in arms
When grove was felled, and altar was cast down,
And Gideon blew the trumpet, soul-entlamed,
And strong in hatred of idolatry,»

This spoken, from his seat the Pastor rose, And moved towards the grave; instinctively His steps we followed; and my voice exclaimed, « Power to the Oppressors of the world is given, A might of which they dream not.

Oh! the curse, To be the Awakener of divinest thoughts, Father and founder of exalted deeds, And to whole nations bound in servile straits The liberal Donor of capacities More than heroic! this to be, nor yet llave sense of one connatural wish, nor yet Deserve the least return of human thanks; Wioning no recompense but deadly hate With pity mixed, astonishment with score !»

When these involuntary words had ceased, The Pastor said, « So Providence is served; The forked weapon of the skies can send Illumination into deep, dark Holds, Which the mild sunbeam bath not power to pierce. Why do ye quake, intimidated Thrones? For, not unconscious of the mighty debt Which to outrageous Wrong the Sufferer owes, Europe, through all her habitable seats, Is thirsting for their overthrow, who still Exist, as Pagan Temples stood of old, By very horror of their impious rites Preserved ; are suffered to extend their pride, Like Cedars on the top of Lebanon Darkening the sun.-But less impatient thoughts, And love all lioping and expecting all,' This hallowed Grave demands; where rests in peace A humble Champion of the better Cause; A Peasant-youth, so call him, for he asked No higher pame; io whom our Country showed, As in a favourite Son, most beautiful. In spite of vice, and misery, and disease, Spread with the spreading of her wealthy aris, England, the ancient and the free, appeared, lu him to stand, before my swimming eyes, Unconquerably virtuous and secure.

-No more of this, lest I offend his dust :
Short was liis life, and a brief tale remains.

« One summer's day-a day of annual pomp
And solemn chase--from morn to sultry noon
His steps had followed, fleetest of the fleet,
The red-deer driven along its native heights
With cry of hound and horn; and, from that toil
Returned with sinews weakened and relaxed,
This generous Youth, too negligent of self,
Plunged-'mid a gay and busy throng convened
To wash the fleeces of his Father's flock-
Into the chilling flood.

Convulsions dire
Seized him, that self-same night; and tlırough the space
Of (welve ensuing days his frame was wreach'd
Till nature rested from her work in death.

- To bim, thus snatch'd away, his Comrades paid A Soldier's honours. At his funeral hour Bright was the sun, the sky a cloudless blueA golden lustre slept upon the hills; And if by chance a Stranger, wandering there, From some commanding eminence had look a Down on this spot, well pleased would he have seen A glittering Spectacle; but every Was pallid, --seldom hath that eye been moist With tears--that wept not then; nor were the few Who from their dwellings came not forth to join In this sad service, less disturb'd than we. They started at the tributary peal Of instantaneous thunder, which announced Through the still air the closing of the Grave; And distant mountains echoed with a sound Of lamentation, never heard before!»

face

The Pastor ceased. - My venerable Friend
Victoriously upraised his clear bright eye;
And, when that eulogy was ended, stood

Enrapt, -as if his inward sense perceived
The prolongation of some still response,
Sent by the ancient Soul of this wide Land,
The Spirit of its mountains and its seas,
Its cities, temples, fields, its awful power,
Its rights and virtues--by that Deity
Descending; and supporting his pure heart
With patriotic confidence and joy.
And, at the last of those memorial words,
The pining Solitary curo'd aside,
Whether through manly instinct to conceal
Tender emotions spreading from the heart
To his worn cheek; or with uneasy shame

For those cold humours of habitual spleen,
That fondly seeking in dispraise of Man
Solace and self-excuse, had sometimes urged
To self-abuse, a not incloquent tongue.
- light tow'rd the sacred Edifice his steps
Had been directed; and we saw him now
Intent upon a monumental Stone,
Whose upcouth Form was grafted on the wall,
Or rather seem'd to have grown into the side
Of the rude Pile; as oft-times trunks of trees,
Where Nature works in wild and cracky spots,
Are seen incorporate with the living rock-
To endure for aye. The Vicar, taking note
Of his employment, with a courteous smile
Exclaim'd, « The sagest Antiquarian's cye

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