With mind that sheds a light on what he sees; Free as the sun, and lonely as the sun Pouring, above his head, its radiance down Upon a living and rejoicing world!
"So, westward, tow'rd the unviolated woods, I bent my way; and, roaming far and wide, Failed not to greet the merry mocking-bird; And while the inelancholy muccawiss (The sportive bird's companion in the grove) Repeated o'er and o'er his plaintive cry,
I sympathised at leisure with the sound; But that pure archetype of human greatness, I found him not. There, in his stead, appeared A creature, squalid, vengeful, and impure; Remorseless, and submissive to no law But superstitious fear, and abject sloth. Enough is told! Here am I-ye have heard What evidence I seek, and vainly seek; What from my fellow-beings I require, And cannot find; what I myself have lost, Nor can regain: how languidly I look Upon this visible fabric of the world, May be divined-perhaps it hath been said. But spare your pity, if there be in me Aught that deserves respect: for I exist— Within myself-not comfortless. The tenor Which my life holds, he readily may conceive Whoe'er hath stood to watch a mountain brook In some still passage of its course, and seen Within the depths of its capacious breast Inverted trees, and rocks, and azure sky; And, on its glassy surface, specks of foam And conglobated bubbles undissolved,
Numerous as stars; that, by their onward lapse, Betray to sight the motion of the stream, Else imperceptible; meanwhile, is heard Perchance a roar or murmur; and the sound Though soothing, and the little floating isles Though beautiful, are both by Nature charged With the same pensive office; and make known Through what perplexing labyrinths, abrupt Precipitations, and untoward straits,
The earth-born wanderer hath passed; and quickly, That respite o'er, like traverses and toils Must be again encountered. Such a stream Is human life; and so the spirit fares In the best quiet to its course allowed: And such is mine-save only for a hope That my particular current soon will reach Th' unfathomable gulf where all is still!"
State of feeling produced by the foregoing narrative-A belief in a superintending Provi dence the only adequate support under affliction-Wanderer's ejaculation to the Supreme Being-Account of his own devotional feelings in youth involved in it-Implores that he may retain in age the power to find repose among enduring and eternal thingsWhat these latter are-Acknowledges the difficulty of a lively faith-Hence immoderate sorrrow-But doubt or despondency not therefore to be inferred-And proceeds to administer consolation to the Solitary-Exhortations-How these are received-Wanderer resumes-And applies his discourse to that other cause of dejection in the Solitary's mind, the disappointment of his expectations from the French Revolution-States the rational grounds of hope-And insists on the necessity of patience and fortitude with respect to the course of the great revolutions of the world-Knowledge the source of tranquillity-Rural life and solitude particularly favourable to a knowledge of the inferior creatures-Study of their habits and ways recommended on the affections and the imagination-Exhortation to bodily exertion and an active communion with Nature -Morbid solitude a pitiable thing-If the elevated imagination cannot be exerted, try the humbler fancy-Superstition better than apathy-Apathy and destitution unknown in the infancy of society-The various modes of Religion prevented it-This illustrated in the Jewish, Persian, Babylonian, Chaldean, and Grecian modes of belief-Solitary interposes-Wanderer, in answer, points out the influence of religious and imaginative feeling on the mind in the humble ranks of society, in rural life especially-This illustrated from present and past times-Observation that these principles tend to recall exploded superstitions and popery-Wanderer rebuts this charge, and contrasts the dignities of the imagination with the presumptive littleness of certain modern philo sophers, whom the Solitary appears to esteem-Recommends to him other lights and guides-Asserts the power of the soul to regenerate herself-Solitary agitated, and asks how-Reply-Personal appeal-Happy for us that the imagination and affections, in our own despite, mitigate the evils of that state of intellectual slavery which the calculating understanding is so apt to produce-Exhortation to activity of body renewed-How Nature is to be communed with-Wanderer concludes with a prospect of a legitimate union of the imagination, the affections, the understanding, and the reason-Effect of the Wanderer's discourse-Evening-Return to the Cottage.
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 doubtless yielding some relief to his, While we sate listening with compassion due, Such pity yet surviving, with firm voice,
That did not falter, though the heart was moved, The Wanderer said :-
"One adequate support
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 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 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, 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.
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, And if they 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- 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 steadfastly replied, Answering the question which himself had asked, "Possessions vanish, and opinions change, And passions hold a fluctuating seat: But, by the storms of circumstance unshaken, And subject neither to eclipse or 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
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,
Mightst 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, And reason's steadfast rule-Thou, Thou alone Art everlasting, and the blessed spirits, Which Thou includest, as the sea her waves. For adoration Thou endurest; 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 frame 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 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 towards 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 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 t' aspire Heaven ward, 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
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,
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,
Through this, 'tis able 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 In framing estimates of loss and gain, 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 Insures to all believers? Yet mistrust Is of such incapacity, methinks,
No natural branch; despondency far less.
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, Infer not hence a hope from those withheld When wanted most; a confidence impaired So pitiably, that, having ceased to see With bodily eyes, they are borne down by love Of what is lost, and perish through regret. O no! full oft the innocent sufferer 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, 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 sleep, nor craving, but in settled peace-
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