And, as a faggot sparkles on the hearth,
Not less if unattended and alone
Than when both young and old sit gathered round
And take delight in its activity;
Even so this happy Creature of herself
Is all-sufficient; solitude to her
Is blithe society, who fills the air
With gladness and involuntary songs.
Light are her sallies as the tripping fawn's
Forth-startled from the fern where she lay couched ; Unthought-of, unexpected, as the stir
Of the soft breeze ruffling the meadow-flowers, Or from before it chasing wantonly The many-coloured images imprest Upon the bosom of a placid lake.
SOURCES OF SPIRITUAL STRENGTH.
(FROM "THE EXCURSION," BOOK IV.)
"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 '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 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,
Yet, through this weakness of the general heart, Is it enabled 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 least of all, is absolute despair.
- 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;
Deem not that proof is here of hope 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, the innocent Sufferer often 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 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, ranklings of despite, Immoderate wishes, pining discontent, Distress and care. What then remains? 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
These helps solicit; and a stedfast 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.
(FROM THE EXCURSION," BOOK IV.)
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 a bright eye
Up 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.
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,
« FöregåendeFortsätt » |