Contents -BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD

THE EXCURSION

BOOK FOURTH

THE EXCURSION

HERE closed the Tenant of that lonely vale His mournful narrative–commenced in pain, In pain commenced, and ended without peace: Yet tempered, not unfrequently, with strains Of native feeling, grateful to our minds; And yielding surely some relief to his, While we sate listening with compassion due. A pause of silence followed; then, with voice That did not falter though the heart was moved, The Wanderer said:– “One adequate support 10 For the calamities of mortal life Exists–one only; an assured belief That the procession of our fate, howe’er Sad or disturbed, is ordered by a Being Of infinite benevolence and power; Whose everlasting purposes embrace All accidents, converting them to good. –The darts of anguish ‘fix’ not where the seat Of suffering hath been thoroughly fortified By acquiescence in the Will supreme 20 For time and for eternity; by faith, Faith absolute in God, including hope, And the defence that lies in boundless love Of his perfections; with habitual dread Of aught unworthily conceived, endured Impatiently, ill-done, or left undone, To the dishonour of his holy name. Soul of our Souls, and safeguard of the world! Sustain, thou only canst, the sick of heart; Restore their languid spirits, and recall 30 Their lost affections unto thee and thine!” Then, as we issued from that covert nook, He thus continued, lifting up his eyes To heaven:–“How beautiful this dome of sky; And the vast hills, in fluctuation fixed At thy command, how awful! Shall the Soul, Human and rational, report of thee Even less than these?–Be mute who will, who can, Yet I will praise thee with impassioned voice: My lips, that may forget thee in the crowd, 40 Cannot forget thee here; where thou hast built, For thy own glory, in the wilderness! Me didst thou constitute a priest of thine, In such a temple as we now behold Reared for thy presence: therefore, am I bound To worship, here, and everywhere–as one Not doomed to ignorance, though forced to tread, From childhood up, the ways of poverty; From unreflecting ignorance preserved, And from debasement rescued.–By thy grace 50 The particle divine remained unquenched; And, ‘mid the wild weeds of a rugged soil, Thy bounty caused to flourish deathless flowers, From paradise transplanted: wintry age Impends; the frost will gather round my heart; If the flowers wither, I am worse than dead! –Come, labour, when the worn-out frame requires Perpetual sabbath; come, disease and want; And sad exclusion through decay of sense; But leave me unabated trust in thee– 60 And let thy favour, to the end of life, Inspire me with ability to seek Repose and hope among eternal things– Father of heaven and earth! and I am rich, And will possess my portion in content! And what are things eternal?–powers depart,” The grey-haired Wanderer stedfastly replied, Answering the question which himself had asked, “Possessions vanish, and opinions change, And passions hold a fluctuating seat: 70 But, by the storms of circumstance unshaken, And subject neither to eclipse nor wane, Duty exists;–immutably survive, For our support, the measures and the forms, Which an abstract intelligence supplies; Whose kingdom is, where time and space are not. Of other converse which mind, soul, and heart, Do, with united urgency, require, What more that may not perish?–Thou, dread source, Prime, self-existing cause and end of all 80 That in the scale of being fill their place; Above our human region, or below, Set and sustained;–thou, who didst wrap the cloud Of infancy around us, that thyself, Therein, with our simplicity awhile Might’st hold, on earth, communion undisturbed; Who from the anarchy of dreaming sleep, Or from its death-like void, with punctual care, And touch as gentle as the morning light, Restor’st us, daily, to the powers of sense 90 And reason’s stedfast rule–thou, thou alone Art everlasting, and the blessed Spirits, Which thou includest, as the sea her waves: For adoration thou endur’st; endure For consciousness the motions of thy will; For apprehension those transcendent truths Of the pure intellect, that stand as laws (Submission constituting strength and power) Even to thy Being’s infinite majesty! This universe shall pass away–a work 100 Glorious! because the shadow of thy might, A step, or link, for intercourse with thee. Ah! if the time must come, in which my feet No more shall stray where meditation leads, By flowing stream, through wood, or craggy wild, Loved haunts like these; the unimprisoned Mind May yet have scope to range among her own, Her thoughts, her images, her high desires. If the dear faculty of sight should fail, Still, it may be allowed me to remember 110 What visionary powers of eye and soul In youth were mine; when, stationed on the top Of some huge hill–expectant, I beheld The sun rise up, from distant climes returned Darkness to chase, and sleep; and bring the day His bounteous gift! or saw him toward the deep Sink, with a retinue of flaming clouds Attended; then, my spirit was entranced With joy exalted to beatitude; The measure of my soul was filled with bliss, 120 And holiest love; as earth, sea, air, with light, With pomp, with glory, with magnificence! Those fervent raptures are for ever flown; And, since their date, my soul hath undergone Change manifold, for better or for worse: Yet cease I not to struggle, and aspire Heavenward; and chide the part of me that flags, Through sinful choice; or dread necessity On human nature from above imposed. ‘Tis, by comparison, an easy task 130 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 ’tis 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, 140 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, 150 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 160 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 170 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, 180 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. 190 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, 200 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; 210 And, in the private regions of the mind, Ill-governed passions, ranklings of despite, Immoderate wishes, pining discontent, Distress and care. What then remains?–To seek 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 220 Without access of unexpected strength. But, above all, the victory is most sure For him, who, seeking faith by virtue, strives To yield entire submission to the law Of conscience–conscience reverenced and obeyed, As God’s most intimate presence in the soul, And his most perfect image in the world. –Endeavour thus to live; these rules regard; These helps solicit; and a stedfast seat Shall then be yours among the happy few 230 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.” While, in this strain, the venerable Sage Poured forth his aspirations, and announced 240 His judgments, near that lonely house we paced A plot of greensward, seemingly preserved By nature’s care from wreck of scattered stones, And from encroachment of encircling heath: Small space! but, for reiterated steps, Smooth and commodious; as a stately deck Which to and fro the mariner is used To tread for pastime, talking with his mates, Or haply thinking of far-distant friends, While the ship glides before a steady breeze. 250 Stillness prevailed around us: and the voice That spake was capable to lift the soul Toward regions yet more tranquil. But, methought, That he, whose fixed despondency had given Impulse and motive to that strong discourse, Was less upraised in spirit than abashed; Shrinking from admonition, like a man Who feels that to exhort is to reproach. Yet not to be diverted from his aim, The Sage continued:– “For that other loss, 260 The loss of confidence in social man, By the unexpected transports of our age Carried so high, that every thought, which looked Beyond the temporal destiny of the Kind, To many seemed superfluous–as, no cause Could e’er for such exalted confidence Exist; so, none is now for fixed despair: The two extremes are equally disowned By reason: if, with sharp recoil, from one You have been driven far as its opposite, 270 Between them seek the point whereon to build Sound expectations. So doth he advise Who shared at first the illusion; but was soon Cast from the pedestal of pride by shocks Which Nature gently gave, in woods and fields; Nor unreproved by Providence, thus speaking To the inattentive children of the world: ‘Vainglorious Generation! what new powers ‘On you have been conferred? what gifts, withheld ‘From your progenitors, have ye received, 280 ‘Fit recompense of new desert? what claim ‘Are ye prepared to urge, that my decrees ‘For you should undergo a sudden change; ‘And the weak functions of one busy day, ‘Reclaiming and extirpating, perform ‘What all the slowly-moving years of time, ‘With their united force, have left undone? ‘By nature’s gradual processes be taught; ‘By story be confounded! Ye aspire ‘Rashly, to fall once more; and that false fruit, 290 ‘Which, to your overweening spirits, yields ‘Hope of a flight celestial, will produce ‘Misery and shame. But Wisdom of her sons ‘Shall not the less, though late, be justified.’ Such timely warning,” said the Wanderer, “gave That visionary voice; and, at this day, When a Tartarean darkness overspreads The groaning nations; when the impious rule, By will or by established ordinance, Their own dire agents, and constrain the good 300 To acts which they abhor; though I bewail This triumph, yet the pity of my heart Prevents me not from owning, that the law, By which mankind now suffers, is most just. For by superior energies; more strict Affiance in each other; faith more firm In their unhallowed principles; the bad Have fairly earned a victory o’er the weak, The vacillating, inconsistent good. Therefore, not unconsoled, I wait–in hope 310 To see the moment, when the righteous cause Shall gain defenders zealous and devout As they who have opposed her; in which Virtue Will, to her efforts, tolerate no bounds That are not lofty as her rights; aspiring By impulse of her own ethereal zeal. That spirit only can redeem mankind; And when that sacred spirit shall appear, Then shall ‘four’ triumph be complete as theirs. Yet, should this confidence prove vain, the wise 320 Have still the keeping of their proper peace; Are guardians of their own tranquillity. They act, or they recede, observe, and feel; ‘Knowing the heart of man is set to be The centre of this world, about the which Those revolutions of disturbances Still roll; where all the aspects of misery Predominate; whose strong effects are such As he must bear, being powerless to redress; “And that unless above himself he can 330 Erect himself, how poor a thing is Man!”‘ Happy is he who lives to understand, Not human nature only, but explores All natures,–to the end that he may find The law that governs each; and where begins The union, the partition where, that makes Kind and degree, among all visible Beings; The constitutions, powers, and faculties, Which they inherit,–cannot step beyond,– And cannot fall beneath; that do assign 340 To every class its station and its office, Through all the mighty commonwealth of things Up from the creeping plant to sovereign Man. Such converse, if directed by a meek, Sincere, and humble spirit, teaches love: For knowledge is delight; and such delight Breeds love: yet, suited as it rather is To thought and to the climbing intellect, It teaches less to love, than to adore; If that be not indeed the highest love!” 350 “Yet,” said I, tempted here to interpose, “The dignity of life is not impaired By aught that innocently satisfies The humbler cravings of the heart; and he Is a still happier man, who, for those heights Of speculation not unfit, descends; And such benign affections cultivates Among the inferior kinds; not merely those That he may call his own, and which depend, As individual objects of regard, 360 Upon his care, from whom he also looks For signs and tokens of a mutual bond; But others, far beyond this narrow sphere, Whom, for the very sake of love, he loves. Nor is it a mean praise of rural life And solitude, that they do favour most, Most frequently call forth, and best sustain, These pure sensations; that can penetrate The obstreperous city; on the barren seas Are not unfelt; and much might recommend, 370 How much they might inspirit and endear, The loneliness of this sublime retreat!” “Yes,” said the Sage, resuming the discourse Again directed to his downcast Friend, “If, with the froward will and grovelling soul Of man, offended, liberty is here, And invitation every hour renewed, To mark ‘their’ placid state, who never heard Of a command which they have power to break, Or rule which they are tempted to transgress: 380 These, with a soothed or elevated heart, May we behold; their knowledge register; Observe their ways; and, free from envy, find Complacence there:–but wherefore this to you? I guess that, welcome to your lonely hearth, The redbreast, ruffled up by winter’s cold Into a ‘feathery bunch,’ feeds at your hand: A box, perchance, is from your casement hung For the small wren to build in;–not in vain, The barriers disregarding that surround 390 This deep abiding place, before your sight Mounts on the breeze the butterfly; and soars, Small creature as she is, from earth’s bright flowers, Into the dewy clouds. Ambition reigns In the waste wilderness: the Soul ascends Drawn towards her native firmament of heaven, When the fresh eagle, in the month of May, Upborne, at evening, on replenished wing, This shaded valley leaves; and leaves the dark Empurpled hills, conspicuously renewing 400 A proud communication with the sun Low sunk beneath the horizon!–List!–I heard, From yon huge breast of rock, a voice sent forth As if the visible mountain made the cry. Again!”–The effect upon the soul was such As he expressed: from out the mountain’s heart The solemn voice appeared to issue, startling The blank air–for the region all around Stood empty of all shape of life, and silent Save for that single cry, the unanswered bleat 410 Of a poor lamb–left somewhere to itself, The plaintive spirit of the solitude! He paused, as if unwilling to proceed, Through consciousness that silence in such place Was best, the most affecting eloquence. But soon his thoughts returned upon themselves, And, in soft tone of speech, thus he resumed. “Ah! if the heart, too confidently raised, Perchance too lightly occupied, or lulled Too easily, despise or overlook 420 The vassalage that binds her to the earth, Her sad dependence upon time, and all The trepidations of mortality, What place so destitute and void–but there The little flower her vanity shall check; The trailing worm reprove her thoughtless pride? These craggy regions, these chaotic wilds, Does that benignity pervade, that warms The mole contented with her darksome walk In the cold ground; and to the emmet gives 430 Her foresight, and intelligence that makes The tiny creatures strong by social league; Supports the generations, multiplies Their tribes, till we behold a spacious plain Or grassy bottom, all, with little hills– Their labour, covered, as a lake with waves; Thousands of cities, in the desert place Built up of life, and food, and means of life! Nor wanting here, to entertain the thought, Creatures that in communities exist, 440 Less, as might seem, for general guardianship Or through dependence upon mutual aid, Than by participation of delight And a strict love of fellowship, combined. What other spirit can it be that prompts The gilded summer flies to mix and weave Their sports together in the solar beam, Or in the gloom of twilight hum their joy? More obviously the self-same influence rules The feathered kinds; the fieldfare’s pensive flock, 450 The cawing rooks, and sea-mews from afar, Hovering above these inland solitudes, By the rough wind unscattered, at whose call Up through the trenches of the long-drawn vales Their voyage was begun: nor is its power Unfelt among the sedentary fowl That seek yon pool, and there prolong their stay In silent congress; or together roused Take flight; while with their clang the air resounds: And, over all, in that ethereal vault, 460 Is the mute company of changeful clouds; Bright apparition, suddenly put forth, The rainbow smiling on the faded storm; The mild assemblage of the starry heavens; And the great sun, earth’s universal lord! How bountiful is Nature! he shall find Who seeks not; and to him, who hath not asked, Large measure shall be dealt. Three sabbath-days Are scarcely told, since, on a service bent Of mere humanity, you clomb those heights; 470 And what a marvellous and heavenly show Was suddenly revealed!–the swains moved on, And heeded not: you lingered, you perceived And felt, deeply as living man could feel. There is a luxury in self-dispraise; And inward self-disparagement affords To meditative spleen a grateful feast. Trust me, pronouncing on your own desert, You judge unthankfully: distempered nerves Infect the thoughts: the languor of the frame 480 Depresses the soul’s vigour. Quit your couch– Cleave not so fondly to your moody cell; Nor let the hallowed powers, that shed from heaven Stillness and rest, with disapproving eye Look down upon your taper, through a watch Of midnight hours, unseasonably twinkling In this deep Hollow, like a sullen star Dimly reflected in a lonely pool. Take courage, and withdraw yourself from ways That run not parallel to nature’s course. 490 Rise with the lark! your matins shall obtain Grace, be their composition what it may, If but with hers performed; climb once again, Climb every day, those ramparts; meet the breeze Upon their tops, adventurous as a bee That from your garden thither soars, to feed On new-blown heath; let yon commanding rock Be your frequented watch-tower; roll the stone In thunder down the mountains; with all your might Chase the wild goat; and if the bold red deer 500 Fly to those harbours, driven by hound and horn Loud echoing, add your speed to the pursuit; So, wearied to your hut shall you return, And sink at evening into sound repose.” The Solitary lifted toward the hills A kindling eye:–accordant feelings rushed Into my bosom, whence these words broke forth: “Oh! what a joy it were, in vigorous health, To have a body (this our vital frame With shrinking sensibility endued, 510 And all the nice regards of flesh and blood) And to the elements surrender it As if it were a spirit!–How divine, The liberty, for frail, for mortal, man To roam at large among unpeopled glens And mountainous retirements, only trod By devious footsteps; regions consecrate To oldest time! and, reckless of the storm That keeps the raven quiet in her nest, Be as a presence or a motion–one 520 Among the many there; and while the mists Flying, and rainy vapours, call out shapes And phantoms from the crags and solid earth As fast as a musician scatters sounds Out of an instrument; and while the streams (As at a first creation and in haste To exercise their untried faculties) Descending from the region of the clouds, And starting from the hollows of the earth More multitudinous every moment, rend 530 Their way before them–what a joy to roam An equal among mightiest energies; And haply sometimes with articulate voice, Amid the deafening tumult, scarcely heard By him that utters it, exclaim aloud, ‘Rage on ye elements! let moon and stars Their aspects lend, and mingle in their turn With this commotion (ruinous though it be) From day to night, from night to day, prolonged!'” “Yes,” said the Wanderer, taking from my lips 540 The strain of transport, “whosoe’er in youth Has, through ambition of his soul, given way To such desires, and grasped at such delight, Shall feel congenial stirrings late and long, In spite of all the weakness that life brings, Its cares and sorrows; he, though taught to own The tranquillizing power of time, shall wake, Wake sometimes to a noble restlessness– Loving the sports which once he gloried in. Compatriot, Friend, remote are Garry’s hills, 550 The streams far distant of your native glen; Yet is their form and image here expressed With brotherly resemblance. Turn your steps Wherever fancy leads; by day, by night, Are various engines working, not the same As those with which your soul in youth was moved, But by the great Artificer endowed With no inferior power. You dwell alone; You walk, you live, you speculate alone; Yet doth remembrance, like a sovereign prince, 560 For you a stately gallery maintain Of gay or tragic pictures. You have seen, Have acted, suffered, travelled far, observed With no incurious eye; and books are yours, Within whose silent chambers treasure lies Preserved from age to age; more precious far Than that accumulated store of gold And orient gems, which, for a day of need, The Sultan hides deep in ancestral tombs. These hoards of truth you can unlock at will: 570 And music waits upon your skilful touch, Sounds which the wandering shepherd from these heights Hears, and forgets his purpose;–furnished thus, How can you droop, if willing to be upraised? A piteous lot it were to flee from Man– Yet not rejoice in Nature. He, whose hours Are by domestic pleasures uncaressed And unenlivened; who exists whole years Apart from benefits received or done ‘Mid the transactions of the bustling crowd; 580 Who neither hears, nor feels a wish to hear, Of the world’s interests–such a one hath need Of a quick fancy, and an active heart, That, for the day’s consumption, books may yield Food not unwholesome; earth and air correct His morbid humour, with delight supplied Or solace, varying as the seasons change. –Truth has her pleasure-grounds, her haunts of ease And easy contemplation; gay parterres, And labyrinthine walks, her sunny glades 590 And shady groves in studied contrast–each, For recreation, leading into each: These may he range, if willing to partake Their soft indulgences, and in due time May issue thence, recruited for the tasks And course of service Truth requires from those Who tend her altars, wait upon her throne, And guard her fortresses. Who thinks, and feels, And recognises ever and anon The breeze of nature stirring in his soul, 600 Why need such man go desperately astray, And nurse ‘the dreadful appetite of death?’ If tired with systems, each in its degree Substantial, and all crumbling in their turn, Let him build systems of his own, and smile At the fond work, demolished with a touch; If unreligious, let him be at once, Among ten thousand innocents, enrolled A pupil in the many-chambered school, Where superstition weaves her airy dreams. 610 Life’s autumn past, I stand on winter’s verge; And daily lose what I desire to keep: Yet rather would I instantly decline To the traditionary sympathies Of a most rustic ignorance, and take A fearful apprehension from the owl Or death-watch: and as readily rejoice, If two auspicious magpies crossed my way;– To this would rather bend than see and hear The repetitions wearisome of sense, 620 Where soul is dead, and feeling hath no place; Where knowledge, ill begun in cold remark On outward things, with formal inference ends; Or, if the mind turn inward, she recoils At once–or, not recoiling, is perplexed– Lost in a gloom of uninspired research; Meanwhile, the heart within the heart, the seat Where peace and happy consciousness should dwell, On its own axis restlessly revolving, Seeks, yet can nowhere find, the light of truth. 630 Upon the breast of new-created earth Man walked; and when and wheresoe’er he moved, Alone or mated, solitude was not. He heard, borne on the wind, the articulate voice Of God; and Angels to his sight appeared Crowning the glorious hills of paradise; Or through the groves gliding like morning mist Enkindled by the sun. He sate–and talked With winged Messengers; who daily brought To his small island in the ethereal deep 640 Tidings of joy and love.–From those pure heights (Whether of actual vision, sensible To sight and feeling, or that in this sort Have condescendingly been shadowed forth Communications spiritually maintained, And intuitions moral and divine) Fell Human-kind–to banishment condemned That flowing years repealed not: and distress And grief spread wide; but Man escaped the doom Of destitution;–solitude was not. 650 –Jehovah–shapeless Power above all Powers, Single and one, the omnipresent God, By vocal utterance, or blaze of light, Or cloud of darkness, localised in heaven; On earth, enshrined within the wandering ark; Or, out of Sion, thundering from his throne Between the Cherubim–on the chosen Race Showered miracles, and ceased not to dispense Judgments, that filled the land from age to age With hope, and love, and gratitude, and fear; 660 And with amazement smote;–thereby to assert His scorned, or unacknowledged, sovereignty. And when the One, ineffable of name, Of nature indivisible, withdrew From mortal adoration or regard, Not then was Deity engulphed; nor Man, The rational creature, left, to feel the weight Of his own reason, without sense or thought Of higher reason and a purer will, To benefit and bless, through mightier power:– 670 Whether the Persian–zealous to reject Altar and image, and the inclusive walls And roofs of temples built by human hands– To loftiest heights ascending, from their tops, With myrtle-wreathed tiara on his brow, Presented sacrifice to moon and stars, And to the winds and mother elements, And the whole circle of the heavens, for him A sensitive existence, and a God, With lifted hands invoked, and songs of praise: 680 Or, less reluctantly to bonds of sense Yielding his soul, the Babylonian framed For influence undefined a personal shape; And, from the plain, with toil immense, upreared 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, 690 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 stedfast eye. The planetary Five With a submissive reverence they beheld; 700 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, 710 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 sky more variable, 720 Could find commodious place for every God, Promptly received, as prodigally brought, From the surrounding countries, at the choice Of all adventurers. With unrivalled skill, As nicest observation furnished hints For studious fancy, his quick hand bestowed 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, 730 On every side encountered; in despite Of the gross fictions chanted in the streets By wandering Rhapsodists; and in contempt Of doubt and bold denial 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 740 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 hath trod, ‘Thy murmurs heard; and drunk the crystal lymph 750 ‘With which thou dost refresh the thirsty lip, ‘And, all day long, moisten 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; 760 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, 770 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 780 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 790 In smoky cabins, from a mother’s tongue– Heard where 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, that in the sunshine carves, 800 On the green turf, a dial–to divide The silent hours; and who to that report Can portion out his pleasures, and adapt, Throughout a long and lonely summer’s day 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. 810 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, 820 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 830 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, 840 Or pride of heart abating: and, whene’er For less important ends those phantoms move, Who would forbid them, if their presence serve– On thinly-peopled mountains and wild 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. 850 –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. 860 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, 870 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, 880 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!” The strain was aptly chosen; and I could mark Its kindly influence, o’er the yielding brow Of our Companion, gradually diffused; 890 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 900 The churlish features of that after-race Who fled to woods, caverns, and jutting 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; 910 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 920 Against idolatry with warlike mind, And shrunk from vain observances, to lurk In woods, and dwell under impending rocks Ill-sheltered, and oft wanting 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; 930 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 overstepped the Grave. 940 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 spirits– Whom earth, at this late season, hath produced To regulate the moving spheres, and weigh The planets in the hollow of their hand; 950 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 ’twas ever meant That we should pry far off yet be unraised; That we should pore, and dwindle as we pore, 960 Viewing all objects unremittingly In disconnection 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 970 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, 980 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 ends 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, 990 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; 1000 His stooping body tottered 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 penned, 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, 1010 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 lights and guides better than these. Ah! let not aught amiss within dispose A noble mind to practise on herself, And tempt opinion to support the wrongs 1020 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. He, who by wilful disesteem of life And proud insensibility to hope, 1030 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; 1040 When wisdom shows 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! 1050 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, black and disconsolate, 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 1060 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 1070 In man’s celestial spirit; virtue thus Sets forth and magnifies herself; thus feeds A calm, a beautiful, and silent fire, From the encumbrances 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– 1080 Resolve,’ the haughty Moralist would say, ‘This single act is all that we demand.’ 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, tossed 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 1090 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, 1100 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 fall by various ways, and sink One deeper than another, self-condemned, 1110 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 At every moment softened in its course By tenderness of heart; have seen your eye, 1120 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, 1130 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 from within were heard Murmurings, whereby the monitor expressed Mysterious union with its native sea. 1140 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. 1150 –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; 1160 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 1170 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– 1180 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 seemed 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 1190 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 throng 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, 1200 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 Both knows and loves such objects as excite 1210 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 choose 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. 1220 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 1230 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, 1240 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 1250 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, 1260 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, Shall move unswerving, even as if impelled By strict necessity, along the path Of order and of good. Whate’er we see, 1270 Or feel, shall tend to quicken and refine; Shall fix, in calmer seats of moral strength, Earthly desires; and raise, to loftier heights Of divine love, 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 1280 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 Dispersed, like music that the wind takes up By snatches, and lets fall, to be forgotten; No–they sank into me, the bounteous gift Of one whom time and nature had made wise, Gracing his doctrine with authority Which hostile spirits silently allow; Of one accustomed to desires that feed 1290 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, 1300 He had become invisible,–a pomp Leaving behind of yellow radiance spread Over 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; 1310 And in the Matron’s countenance may be read Plain indication 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 lay, 1320 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. NOTES 130 ”Tis, by comparison, an easy task Earth to despise,’ etc. See, upon this subject, Baxter’s most interesting review of his own opinions and sentiments in the decline of life. It may be found (lately reprinted) in Dr. Wordsworth’s “Ecclesiastical Biography.” 205 ‘Alas! the endowment of immortal Power Is matched unequally with custom, time,’ etc. This subject is treated at length in the Ode–Intimations of Immortality. 324 ‘Knowing the heart of man is set to be,’ etc. The passage quoted from Daniel is taken from a poem addressed to the Lady Margaret, Countess of Cumberland, and the two last lines, printed in Italics, are by him translated from Seneca. The whole Poem is very beautiful. I will transcribe four stanzas from it, as they contain an admirable picture of the state of a wise Man’s mind in a time of public commotion. Nor is he moved with all the thunder-cracks Of tyrant’s threats, or with the surly brow Of Power, that proudly sits on others’ crimes; Charged with more crying sins than those he checks. The storms of sad confusion that may grow Up in the present for the coming times, Appal not him; that hath no side at all, But of himself, and knows the worst can fall. Although his heart (so near allied to earth) Cannot but pity the perplexed state Of troublous and distressed mortality, That thus make way unto the ugly birth Of their own sorrows, and do still beget Affliction upon Imbecility: Yet seeing thus the course of things must run, He looks thereon not strange, but as fore-done. And whilst distraught ambition compasses, And is encompassed, while as craft deceives, And is deceived: whilst man doth ransack man, And builds on blood, and rises by distress; And th’ Inheritance of desolation leaves To great-expecting hopes: He looks thereon, As from the shore of peace, with unwet eye, And bears no venture in Impiety. Thus, Lady, fares that man that hath prepared A rest for his desires; and sees all things Beneath him; and hath learned this book of man, Full of the notes of frailty; and compared The best of glory with her sufferings: By whom, I see, you labour all you can To plant your heart! and set your thoughts as near His glorious mansion as your powers can bear.