XXVI.

And now the hoary Sage arose, and saw

The wanderer approaching: innocence Smiled on his glowing cheek, but modest awe Depressed his eye, that feared to give offence. 'Who art thou, courteous stranger? and from whence? 'Why roam thy steps to this abandoned dale?' 'A shepherd-boy (the Youth replied), far hence 'My habitation; hear my artless tale;

'Nor levity nor falsehood shall thine ear assail.

XXVII.

'Late as I roamed, intent on Nature's charms,
'I reached, at eve, this wilderness profound;
'And, leaning where yon oak expands her arms,

'Heard these rude cliffs thine awful voice rebound,

(For, in thy speech, I recognise the sound.)

'You mourned for ruined man, and virtue lost,
' And seemed to feel of keen remorse the wound,

'Pondering on former days, by guilt engrossed,

'Or in the giddy storm of dissipation tossed.

XXVIII.

'But say, in courtly life can craft be learned,
'Where knowledge opens, and exalts the soul?
'Where Fortune lavishes her gifts unearned,

'Can selfishness the liberal heart controul ?
'Is glory there achieved by arts, as foul
'As those which felons, fiends, and furies plan ?
'Spiders ensnare, snakes poison, tygers prowl;
'Love is the godlike attribute of man.

O teach a simple Youth this mystery to scan!

XXIX.

'Or else the lamentable strain disclaim,

'And give me back the calm, contented mind;

'Which, late, exulting, viewed, in Nature's frame,

"Goodness untainted, wisdom unconfined,

'Grace, grandeur, and utility combined.

'Restore those tranquil days, that saw me still

'Well pleased with all, but most with humankind; 'When Fancy roamed through Nature's works at will, 'Unchecked by cold distrust, and uninformed of ill.'

XXX.

'Wouldst thou (the Sage replied) in peace return

'To the gay dreams of fond romantic youth,
'Leave me to hide, in this remote sojourn,
'From every gentle ear the dreadful truth:

'For if my desultory strain with ruth

And indignation make thine eyes o'erflow,

'Alas! what comfort could thy anguish sooth,

'Shouldst thou the extent of human folly know?

'Be ignorance thy choice, where knowledge leads to

woe.

XXXI.

'But let untender thoughts afar be driven; 'Nor venture to arraign the dread decree:

'For know, to man, as candidate for heaven, 'The voice of The Eternal said, Be free:

And this divine prerogative to thee

'Does virtue, happiness, and heaven convey;

'For virtue is the child of liberty,

'And happiness of virtue; nor can they

'Be free to keep the path, who are not free to stray.

XXXII.

'Yet leave me not. I would allay that grief,

'Which else might thy young virtue overpower; 'And in thy converse shall find relief,

'When the dark shades of melancholy lower: "For solitude has many a dreary hour,

Even when exempt from grief, remorse, and pain: 'Come often then; for, haply, in my bower,

'Amusement, knowledge, wisdom, thou may'st gain: 'If I one soul improve, I have not lived in vain.'

XXXIII.

And now, at length, to Edwin's ardent gaze
The Muse of History unrolls her page.

But few, alas! the scenes her art displays,

To charm his fancy, or his heart engage.

Here, chiefs their thirst of

power

in blood assuage,

And straight their flames with tenfold fierceness burn:

Here, smiling Virtue prompts the patriot's rage,

But lo, ere long, is left alone to mourn,

And languish in the dust, and clasp the abandoned urn.

XXXIV.

'Ah, what avails (he said) to trace the springs

'That whirl of empire the stupendous wheel!

Ah, what have I to do with conquering kings, 'Hands drenched in blood,and breasts begirt with steel! 'To those, whom Nature taught to think and feel,

Heroes, alas! are things of small concern.

'Could History man's secret heart reveal,

' And what imports a heaven-born mind to learn,

'Her transcripts to explore what bosom would not

yearn!

XXXV.

"This praise, O Cheronean Sage, is thine.

'(Why should this praise to thee alone belong!) All else from Nature's moral path decline, 'Lured by the toys that captivate the throng; To herd in cabinets and camps, among 'Spoil, carnage, and the cruel pomp of pride; 'Or chaunt of heraldry the drowsy song, 'How tyrant blood, o'er many a region wide, 'Rolls to a thousand thrones its execrable tide.