A summer forenoon-The Author reaches a ruined Cottage upon a Common, and there meets with a revered Friend, the Wanderer, of whose education and course of life he gives an account.-The Wanderer, while resting under the shade of the Trees that surround the Cottage, relates the History of its last Inhabitant.
'Twas summer, and the sun had mounted high: A Southward the landscape indistinctly glared
Through a pale steam; but all the northern forenoon downs,
In clearest air ascending, showed far off
A surface dappled o'er with shadows flung From brooding clouds; shadows that lay in spots
Determined and unmoved, with steady beams Of bright and pleasant sunshine interposed; To him most pleasant who on soft cool moss Extends his careless limbs along the front Of some huge cave, whose rocky ceiling casts A twilight of its own, an ample shade, Where the wren warbles, while the dreaming
Half conscious of the soothing melody, With side-long eye looks out upon the scene, By power of that impending covert, thrown To finer distance. Mine was at that hour Far other lot, yet with good hope that soon Under a shade as grateful I should find Rest, and be welcomed there to livelier joy. 20 Across a bare wide Common I was toiling With languid steps that by the slippery turf
A Were baffled; nor could my weak arm disperse ruined The host of insects gathering round my face, And ever with me as I paced along.
Upon that level stood a grove,
The wished-for port to which my course was
Thither I came, and there, amid the gloom Spread by a brotherhood of lofty elms,
Appeared a roofless Hut; four naked walls 30 That stared upon each other!-I looked round, And to my wish and to my hope espied The Friend I sought; a Man of reverend age, But stout and hale, for travel unimpaired. There was he seen upon the cottage-bench, Recumbent in the shade, as if asleep ; An iron-pointed staff lay at his side.
Him had I marked the day before-alone And stationed in the public way, with face Turned toward the sun then setting, while that staff
Afforded, to the figure of the man Detained for contemplation or repose, Graceful support; his countenance as he stood Was hidden from my view, and he remained Unrecognised; but, stricken by the sight, With slackened footsteps I advanced, and soon A glad congratulation we exchanged
At such unthought-of meeting.-For the night We parted, nothing willingly; and now He by appointment waited for me here, Under the covert of these clustering elms.
We were tried Friends: amid a pleasant vale, The In the antique market-village where was passed wandMy school-time, an apartment he had owned, To which at intervals the Wanderer drew, And found a kind of home or harbour there. He loved me; from a swarm of rosy boys Singled out me, as he in sport would say, For my grave looks, too thoughtful for my years. As I grew up, it was my best delight
To be his chosen comrade. Many a time, On holidays, we rambled through the woods: We sate-we walked; he pleased me with report Of things which he had seen; and often touched Abstrusest matter, reasonings of the mind Turned inward; or at my request would sing Old songs, the product of his native hills A skilful distribution of sweet sounds, Feeding the soul, and eagerly imbibed As cool refreshing water, by the care Of the industrious husbandman, diffused Through a parched meadow-ground, in time of drought.
Still deeper welcome found his pure discourse: How precious when in riper days I learned To weigh with care his words, and to rejoice.. In the plain presence of his dignity!
Oh! many are the Poets that are sown By Nature; men endowed with highest gifts, The vision and the faculty divine; Yet wanting the accomplishment of verse, (Which, in the docile season of their youth, It was denied them to acquire, through lack
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