Who have put off their mortal spoils,ah no!
She lives another's wishes to complete:
'Joy be their lot, and happiness,' he cried,
'His lot and hers, as misery must be mine!'
Such was that strong concussion: but the Man,
Who trembled, trunk and limbs, like some huge oak
By a fierce tempest shaken, soon resumed
The steadfast quiet natural to a mind
Of composition gentle and sedate,
And, in its movements, circumspect and slow.
To books, and to the long-forsaken desk,
O'er which enchain'd by science he had loved
To bend, he stoutly re-address'd himself,
Resolved to quell his pain, and search for truth
With keener appetite (if that might be)
And closer industry. Of what ensued
Within the heart no outward signs appear'd,
Till a betraying sickliness was seen
To tinge his cheek; and through his frame it crept With slow mutation unconcealable;
Such universal change as Autumn makes
In the fair body of a leafy grove
Discolour'd, then divested.
By poets skill'd in Nature's secret ways
That Love will not submit to be controll'd
By mastery: and the good Man lack'd not friends
Who strove to instil this truth into his mind,
A mind in all heart-mysteries unversed.
'Go to the hills,' said one, 'remit awhile This baneful diligence: at early morn
Court the fresh air, explore the heaths and woods; And, leaving it to others to foretell,
By calculations sage, the ebb and flow
Of tides, and when the Moon will be eclipsed,
Do you, for your own benefit, construct
A calendar of flowers, pluck'd as they blow
Where health abides, and cheerfulness, and peace.'
Th' attempt was made; - 'tis needless to report
How hopelessly; but innocence is strong,
And an entire simplicity of mind
A thing most sacred in the eye of Heaven;
That opens, for such sufferers, relief
Within the soul, fountains of grace divine;
And doth commend their weakness and disease
To Nature's care, assisted in her office
By all the elements that round her wait
To generate, to preserve, and to restore;
And by her beautiful array of forms
Shedding sweet influence from above; or pure
Delight exhaling from the ground they tread."
"Impute it not to impatience, if," exclaim'd
The Wanderer, "I infer that he was heal'd
By perseverance in the course prescribed."
"You do not err; the powers, that had been lost
By slow degrees, were gradually regain'd;
The fluttering nerves composed; the beating heart
In rest establish'd; and the jarring thoughts
To harmony restored. But yon dark mould
Will cover him, in the fulness of his strength,
Hastily smitten by a fever's force;
Yet not with stroke so sudden as refused
Time to look back with tenderness on her
Whom he had loved in passion; and to send
Some farewell words,with one, but one request;
That from his dying hand she would accept
Of his possessions that which most he prized;
A book, upon whose leaves some chosen plants,
By his own hand disposed with nicest care,
In undecaying beauty were preserved;
Mute register, to him, of time and place,
And various fluctuations in the breast;
To her, a monument of faithful love
Conquer'd, and in tranquillity retain'd!"
Close to his destined habitation, lies
One who achieved a humbler victory,
Though marvellous in its kind. A place there is
High in these mountains, that allured a band
Of keen adventurers to unite their pains
In search of precious ore: they tried, were foil'd,—
And all desisted, all, save him alone.
He, taking counsel of his own clear thoughts,
And trusting only to his own weak hands,
Urged unremittingly the stubborn work,
Unseconded, uncountenanced; then, as time
9 His story is here truly related. He was a school-fellow of mine for some years. He came to us when he was at least seventeen years of age, very tall, robust, and fullgrown. This prevented him from falling into the amusements and games of the school; consequently he gave more time to books. He was not remarkably bright or quick, but by industry he made a progress more than respectable. His parents not being wealthy enough to send him to college when he left Hawkshead, he became a schoolmaster, with a view to preparing himself for holy orders. About this time he fell in love, as related in the poem, and every thing followed as there described, except that I do not know exactly when and where he died.-Author's Notes, 1843.
Pass'd on, while still his lonely efforts found
No recompense, derided; and at length
By many pitied, as insane of mind;
By others dreaded, as the luckless thrall
Of subterranean Spirits feeding hope
By various mockery of sight and sound;
Hope after hope, encouraged and destroy'd. -
But when the lord of seasons had matured
The fruits of earth through space of twice ten years,
The mountain's entrails offer'd to his view
And trembling grasp the long-deferr'd reward.
Not with more transport did Columbus greet
A world, his rich discovery! But our Swain,
A very hero till his point was gain'd,
Proved all unable to support the weight
Of prosperous fortune. On the fields he look'd
With an unsettled liberty of thought,
Wishes and endless schemes; by daylight walk'd
Giddy and restless; ever and anon
Quaff'd in his gratitude immoderate cups;
And truly might be said to die of joy!1
He vanish'd; but conspicuous to this day
The path remains that link'd his cottage-door
To the mine's mouth; a long and slanting track,
Upon the rugged mountain's stony side,
Worn by his daily visits to and from
The darksome centre of a constant hope.
This vestige neither force of beating rain
Nor the vicissitudes of frost and thaw
Shall cause to fade, till ages pass away;
And it is named, in memory of th' event,
The PATH OF PERSEVERANCE."
Man has his strength," exclaim'd the Wanderer, "O,
Do Thou direct it! To the virtuous grant
The penetrative eye which can perceive
In this blind world the guiding vein of hope;
That, like this Labourer, such may dig their way,
'Unshaken, unseduced, unterrified;'
1 The miner lived in Paterdale, and the story is true to the letter. It seems to me, however, rather remarkable, that the strength of mind which had supported him through his long unrewarded labour did not enable him to bear its successful issue. Several times in the course of my life, I have heard of sudden influxes of wealth being followed by derangement; and, in one instance, the shock of good fortune was so great as to produce absolute idiocy. But these all happened where there had been little or no previous effort to acquire the riches, and therefore such a consequence might the more naturally be expected, than in the case of the solitary miner.-Author's Notes, 1843.
Grant to the wise his firmness of resolve!"
"That prayer were not superfluous," said the Priest, "Amid the noblest relics, proudest dust,
That Westminster, for Britain's glory, holds
Within the bosom of her awful pile,
Ambitiously collected. Yet the sigh
Which wafts that prayer to Heaven is due to all,
Wherever laid, who living fell below
Their virtue's humbler mark; a sigh of pain,
If to the opposite extreme they sank.
How would you pity her who yonder rests;
Him, further off; the pair who here are laid;
But, above all, that mixture of earth's mould
Whom sight of this green hillock to my mind
Recalls!
He lived not till his locks were nipp'd
By seasonable frost of age; nor died
Before his temples, prematurely forced
To mix the manly brown with silver grey,
Gave obvious instance of the sad effect
Produced, when thoughtless Folly hath usurp❜d
The natural crown that sage Experience wears.
Gay, volatile, ingenious, quick to learn,
And prompt to exhibit all that he possess'd
Or could preform; a zealous actor, hired
Into the troop of mirth, a soldier, sworn
Into the lists of giddy enterprise,-
Such was he; yet, as if within his frame
Two several souls alternately had lodged,
Two sets of manners could the Youth put on;
And, franght with antics as the Indian bird
That writhes and chatters in her wiry cage,
Was graceful, when it pleased him, smooth and still
As the mute swan that floats adown the stream,
Or, on the waters of th' unruffled lake,
Anchors her placid beauty. Not a leaf,
That flutters on the bough, lighter than he;
And not a flower, that droops in the green shade,
More winningly reserved! If ye inquire
How such consummate elegance was bred
Amid these wilds, this answer may suffice:
'Twas Nature's will; who sometimes undertakes,
For the reproof of human vanity,
Art to outstrip in her peculiar walk.
Hence, for this Favourite lavishly endow'd
With personal gifts, and bright instinctive wit,
While both, embellishing each other, stood
Yet further recommended by the charm
Of fine demeanour, and by dance and song,
And skill in letters- every fancy shaped
Fair expectations; nor, when to the world's
Capacious field forth went th' Adventurer, there
Were he and his attainments overlook'd,
Or scantily rewarded: but all hopes,
Cherish'd for him, he suffer'd to depart,
Like blighted buds; or clouds that mimick'd land
Before the sailor's eye; or diamond drops
That sparkling deck'd the morning grass; or aught
That was attractive, and hath ceased to be!
Yet, when this Prodigal return'd, the rites
Of joyful greeting were on him bestow'd,
Who, by humiliation undeterr'd,
Sought for his weariness a place of rest
Within his Father's gates. Whence came he? — clothed
In tatter'd garb, from hovels where abides
Necessity, the stationary host
Of vagrant poverty; from rifted barns
Where no one dwells but the wide-staring owl
And the owl's prey; from these bare haunts, to which
He had descended from the proud saloon,
He came, the ghost of beauty and of health,
The wreck of gaiety! But, soon revived
In strength, in power refitted, he renew'd
His suit to Fortune; and she smiled again
Upon a fickle Ingrate. Thrice he rose,
Thrice sank as willingly. For he whose nerves
Were used to thrill with pleasure, while his voice
Softly accompanied the tuneful harp,
By the nice finger of fair ladies touch'd
In glittering halls was able to derive
No less enjoyment from an abject choice.
Who happier for the moment, who more blithe
Than this fall'n Spirit? in those dreary holds
His talents lending to exalt the freaks
Of merry-making beggars, - now provoked
To laughter multiplied in louder peals
By his malicious wit; then, all enchain'd
With mute astonishment, themselves to see
In their own arts outdone, their fame eclipsed,
As by the very presence of the Fiend
Who dictates and inspires illusive feats,
For knavish purposes! The city, too,
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