I would not willingly, methinks, lose sight
Of a departing cloud."-" "Twas not for love,"
Answered the sick Man with a careless voice→→→
"That I came hither; neither have I found
Among associates who have power of speech,
Nor in such other converse as is here,
Temptation so prevailing as to change
That mood, or undermine my first resolve."
Then, speaking in like careless sort, he said
To my benign Companion,-"Pity 'tis
That fortune did not guide you to this house
A few days earlier; then would you have seen
What stuff the Dwellers in a solitude,
That seems by Nature framed to be the seat
And very bosom of pure innocence,

Are made of: an ungracious matter this!
Which, for truth's sake, yet in remembrance too
Of past discussions with this zealous friend
And advocate of humble life, I now
Will force upon his notice; undeterred
By the example of his own pure course,
And that respect and deference which a soul
May fairly claim, by niggard age enriched
In what it values most, the love of God
And his frail creature Man;-but ye shall hear.
I talk-and ye are standing in the sun
Without refreshment!"

Saying this, he led
Toward the Cottage. Homely was the spot;
And, to my feeling, ere we reached the door,
Had almost a forbidding nakedness;

Less fair, I grant, even painfully less fair,
Than it appeared when from the valley's brink
We had looked down upon it. All within,
As left by the departed company,

Was silent; and the solitary clock

Ticked as I thought with mournful sound.

Following our Guide, we clomb the cottage-stairs,
And reached a small apartment dark and low,
Which was no sooner entered than our Host

Said gaily, "This is my domain, my cell,
My hermitage, my cabin, what you will-
I love it better than a snail his house.
But now ye shall be feasted with our best."

So, with more ardour than an unripe girl
Left one day mistress of her mother's stores,
He went about his hospitable task.

My eyes were busy, and my thoughts no less, And pleased I looked on my gray-headed Friend, As if to thank him; he returned that look, Cheered, plainly, and yet serious. What a wreck We had around us! scattered was the floor,

And, in like sort, chair, window-seat, and shelf,
With books, maps, fossils, withered plants and flowers,
And tufts of mountain moss. And here and there,
Lay, intermixed with these, mechanic tools
And scraps of paper,-some I could perceive
Scribbled with verse: a broken angling-rod
And shattered telescope, together linked
By cobwebs, stood within a dusty nook;
And instruments of music, some half-made,
Some in disgrace, hung dangling from the walls.
But speedily the promise was fulfilled;

A feast before us, and a courteous Host
Inviting us in glee to sit and eat.

A napkin, white as foam of that rough brook
By which it had been bleached, o'erspread the board;
And was itself half-covered with a load

Of dainties,-oaten bread, curd, cheese, and cream;
And cakes of butter curiously embossed,
Butter that had imbibed a golden tinge,
A hue like that of yellow meadow flowers,
Faintly reflected in a silent pool.

Nor lacked, for more delight on that warm day,
Our table, small parade of garden fruits,

And whortle-berries from the mountain sides.
The Child, who long ere this had stilled his sobs,
Was now a help to his late comforter,

And moved, a willing Page, as he was bid,
Ministering to our need.

In genial mood,

While at our pastoral banquet thus we sate
Fronting the window of that little cell,
I could not, ever and anon, forbear

To glance an upward look on two huge Peaks,
That from some other vale peered into this.
"Those lusty twins," exclaimed our host, "if here
It were your lot to dwell, would soon become
Your prized companions. Many are the notes
Which, in his tuneful course, the wind draws forth
From rocks, woods, caverns, heaths, and dashing shores;
And well those lofty brethren bear their part
In the wild concert-chiefly when the storm
Rides high; then all the upper air they fill
With roaring sound, that ceases not to flow,
Like smoke, along the level of the blast,
In mighty current; theirs, too, is the song
Of stream and headlong floods that seldom fails;
And, in the grim and breathless hour of noon,
Methinks that I have heard them echo back
The thunder's greeting. Nor have nature's laws
Left them ungifted with a power to yield
Music of finer tone; a harmony,

So do I call it, though it be the hand

Of silence, though there be no voice;-the clouds,

The mist, the shadows, light of golden suns,
Motions of moonlight, all come thither-touch,
And have an answer-thither come, and shape
A language not unwelcome to sick hearts
And idle spirits:-there the sun himself,
At the calm close of summer's longest day,
Rests his substantial orb;-between those heights
And on the top of either pinnacle,

More keenly than elsewhere in night's blue vault,
Sparkle the stars, as of their station proud.
Thoughts are not busier in the mind of man
Than the mute agents stirring there:-alone
Here do I sit and watch.-”

With brightening face

The Wanderer heard him speaking thus, and said,
"Now for the tale with which you threatened us!"
"In truth the threat escaped me unawares:
And was forgotten. Let this challenge stand
For my excuse, if what I shall relate

Tire your attention.-Outcast and cut off
As we seem here, and must have seemed to you
When ye looked down upon us from the crag,
Islanders of a stormy mountain sea,
We are not so ;-perpetually we touch
Upon the vulgar ordinance of the world;
And he, whom this our cottage hath to-day
Relinquished, lived dependent for his bread
Upon the laws of public charity.

The Housewife, tempted by such slender gains
As might from that occasion be distilled,
Opened, as she before had done for me,
Her doors to admit this homeless Pensioner;
The portion gave of coarse but wholesome fare
Which appetite required-a blind dull nook,
Such as she had, the kennel of his rest!
This, in itself not ill, would yet have been
Ill borne in earlier life; but his was now
The still contentedness of seventy years.
Calm did he sit beneath the wide-spread tree
Of his old age; and yet less calm and meek,
Winningly meek or venerably calm,
Than slow and torpid; paying in this wise
A penalty, if penalty it were,

For spendthrift feats, excesses of his prime.
I loved the old Man, for I pitied him!

A task it was, I own, to hold discourse

With one so slow in gathering up his thoughts,
But he was a cheap pleasure to my eyes;
Mild, inoffensive, ready in his way,

And useful to his utmost power: and there
Our housewife knew full well what she possessed!
He was her vassal of all labour, tilled

Her garden, from the pasture fetched her kine;

And, one among the orderly array
Of hay-makers, beneath the burning sun
Maintained his place; or heedfully pursued
His course, on errands bound, to other vales,
Leading sometimes an inexperienced child
Too young for any profitable task.

So moved he like a shadow that performed
Substantial service. Mark me now, and learn
For what reward!-The moon her monthly round
Hath not completed since our dame, the queen
Of this one cottage and this lonely dale,
Into my little sanctuary rushed-
Voice to a rueful treble humanized,
And features in deplorable dismay.
I treat the matter lightly, but, alas!

It is most serious: from mid-noon the rain
Had fallen in torrents; all the mountain tops
Were hidden, and black vapours coursed their sides:
This had I seen, and saw; but, till she spake,
Was wholly ignorant that my ancient Friend-
Who at her bidding, early and alone,

Had clomb aloft to delve the moorland turf
For winter fuel-to his noontide meal
Came not, and now perchance upon the heights
Lay at the mercy of this raging storm.
'Inhuman!'-said I. Was an old Man's life
Not worth the trouble of a thought ?-alas!
This notice comes too late.' With joy I saw
Her husband enter-from a distant vale.
We sallied forth together; found the tools
Which the neglected veteran had dropped,
But through all quarters looked for him in vain.
We shouted-but no answer! Darkness fell
Without remission of the blast or shower,
And fears of our own safety drove us home.

I, who weep little, did, I will confess,
The moment I was seated here alone,
Honour my little cell with some few tears
Which anger and resentment could not dry.
All night the storm endured; and, soon as help
Had been collected from the neighbouring vale,
With morning we renewed our quest: the wind
Was fallen, the rain abated, but the hills
Lay shrouded in impenetrable mist;
And long and hopelessly we sought in vain:
"Till, chancing on that lofty ridge to pass
A heap of ruin-almost without walls
And wholly without roof (in ancient time
It was a chapel, a small edifice,

In which the peasants of these lonely dells
For worship met upon that central height)-
We there espied the object of our search,

Lying full three parts buried among tufts
Of heath-plant, under and above him strewn,
To baffle, as he might, the watery storm:
And there we found him breathing peaceably,
Snug as a child that hides himself in sport
'Mid a green hay-cock in a sunny field.
We spake- he made reply, but would not stir
At our intreaty; less from want of power
Than apprehension and bewildering thoughts.

So he was lifted gently from the ground,
And with their freight the shepherds homeward moved
Through the dull mist, I following-when a step,
A single step, that freed me from the skirts
Of the blind vapour, opened to my view
Glory beyond all glory ever seen
By waking sense or by the dreaming soul!
The appearance, instantaneously disclosed,
Was of a mighty city-boldly say
A wilderness of building, sinking far
And self-withdrawn into a boundless depth,
Far sinking into splendour-without end!
Fabric it seemed of diamond and of gold,
With alabaster domes, and silver spires,
And blazing terrace upon terrace, high
Uplifted; here, serene pavilions bright,
In avenues disposed; there, towers begirt
With battlements that on their restless fronts
Bore stars-illumination of all gems!

By earthly nature had the effect been wrought
Upon the dark materials of the storm

Now pacified; on them, and on the coves

And mountain-steeps and summits, whereunto
The vapours had receded, taking there

Their station under a cerulean sky.

Oh, 'twas an unimaginable sight!

Clouds, mists, streams, watery rocks, and emerald turf,

Clouds of all tincture, rocks and sapphire sky,

Confused, commingled, mutually inflamed,

Molten together, and composing thus,

Each lost in each, that marvellous array

Of temple, palace, citadel, and huge

Fantastic pomp of structure without name,
In fleecy folds voluminous enwrapped.

Right in the midst, where interspace appeared
Of open court, an object like a throne
Under a shining canopy of state

Stood fixed; and fixed resemblances were seen
To implements of ordinary use,

But vast in size, in substance glorified;
Such as by Hebrew Prophets were beheld
In vision-forms uncouth of mightiest power
For admiration and mysterious awe.

D