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The old Man still stood talking by my side;
But now his voice to me was like a stream
Scarce heard ; nor word from word could I divide ;
And the whole body of the Man did seem
Like one whom I had met with in a dream;
Or like a man from some far region sent,
To give me human strength, by apt admonishment.


My former thoughts return'd: the fear that kills;
And hope that is unwilling to be fed ;
Cold, pain, and labour, and all fleshly ills ;
And mighty Poets in their misery dead.
Perplex’d, and longing to be comforted,
My question eagerly did I renew,
How is it that you live, and what is it you do ?'

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He with a smile did then his words

repeat; And said, that, gathering leeches, far and wide He travell’d; stirring thus about his feet The waters of the pools where they abide. · Once I could meet with them on every side ; But they have dwindled long by slow decay ; Yet still I persevere, and find them where I may.'


While he was talking thus, the lonely place,
The old Man's shape and speech-all troubled me :

mind's eye I seem'd to see him pace
About the weary moors continually,
Wandering about alone and silently.
While I these thoughts within myself pursued,
He, having made a pause, the same discourse renew’d.


And soon with this he other matter blended,
Cheerfully utter'd with demeanour kind,
But stately in the main ; and when he ended,
I could have laugh'd myself to scorn to find
In that decrepit Man so firm a mind.

God,' said I,“ be my help and stay secure :
I'll think of the Leech-gatherer on the lonely moor!'


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189* To Toussaint L'Ouverture

TOUSSAINT, the most unhappy man of men !
Whether the whistling Rustic tend his plough
Within thy hearing, or thy head be now
Pillow'd in some deep dungeon's earless den ;-
O miserable Chieftain! where and when
Wilt thou find patience! Yet die not; do thou

Wear rather in thy bonds a cheerful brow :
Though fallen thyself, never to rise again,
Live, and take comfort. Thou hast left behind
Powers that will work for thee; air, earth, and skies ;
There's not a breathing of the common wind
That will forget thee; thou hast great allies ;
Thy friends are exultations, agonies,
And love, and man's unconquerable mind.


190 King's College Chapel, Cambridge Tax not the royal Saint with vain expense,

With ill-match'd aims the Architect who plann'de
Albeit labouring for a scanty band
Of white-robed Scholars only—this immense

royal saint] King Henry vi,

And glorious Work of fine intelligence !

Give all thou canst ; high Heaven rejects the lore
Of nicely-calculated less or more :

So deem'd the man who fashion’d for the sense
These lofty pillars, spread that branching roof

Self-poised, and scoop'd into ten thousand cells,

Where light and shade repose, where music dwells Lingering-and wandering on as loth to die;

Like thoughts whose very sweetness yieldeth proof
That they were born for immortality.


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I91 Abou Ben Adbem
Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase !)
Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,
And saw, within the moonlight in his room,
Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom,
An angel writing in a book of gold :-
Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold,
And to the presence in the room he said,
'What writest thou ? '-The vision raised its head,
And with a look made all of sweet accord,
Answer’d, ' The names of those that love the Lord.'
* And is mine one ?' said Abou. Nay, not so,'
Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low,
But cheerly still; and said, ' I pray thee, then,

Write me as one that loves his fellow men.'
The angel wrote and vanish’d. The next night
It came again with a great wakening light,
And show'd the names whom love of God had blest,
And lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest.

Leigh Hunt.

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All after pleasures as I rid one day,

My horse and I, both tired, body and mind, With full cry of affections, quite astray,

I took in the next Inn I could find.


There when I came, whom found I but


dear, My dearest Lord, expecting till the grief Of pleasures brought me to him, ready there

To be all passengers' most sweet relief ?

O Thou, whose glorious yet contracted light,
Wrapt in night's mantle, stole into a manger,

dark soul and brutish is thy right,
To Man of all beasts be not thou a stranger.

Since my

Furnish and deck my soul, that thou mayst have
A better lodging than a rack, or grave.



On His Blindness

WHEN I consider how my light is spent,

Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,
And that one Talent which is death to hide

Lodged with me useless, though my Soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present

My true account, lest he returning chide,-
Doth God exact day-labour, light deny'd ?

I fondly ask : But patience, to prevent
That murmur,

soon replies ; God doth not need Either man's work or his own gifts : who best Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best : His State rack] manger, any wooden frame for cattle to pull fodder from.

Is Kingly ; Thousands at his bidding speed

And post o'er Land and Ocean without rest :
They also serve who only stand and wait.



Paradise Lost


OF Man's First Disobedience, and the Fruit Of that Forbidden Tree, whose mortal taste Brought Death into the World, and all our woe, With loss of Eden, till one greater Man Restore us, and regain the blissful Seat, Sing Heav'nly Muse, that on the secret top Of Oreb, or of Sinai, didst inspire That Shepherd, who first taught the chosen Seed, In the Beginning how the Heav'ns and Earth Rose out of Chaos : or if Sion Hill Delight thee more, and Siloa's Brook that flow'd Fast by the Oracle of God; I thence Invoke thy aid to my advent'rous Song, That with no middle flight intends to soar Above th’ Aonian Mount, while it pursues Things unattempted yet in Prose or Rhyme. And chiefly Thou, O Spirit, that dost prefer Before all Temples th' upright heart and pure, Instruct me, for Thou know'st ; Thou from the first Wast present, and with mighty wings outspread Dove-like sat’st brooding on the vast Abyss And mad'st it pregnant : What in me is dark Illumine, what is low raise and support ; That to the highth of this great Argument I may assert Eternal Providence, And justify the ways of God to men. 16. rhyme) verse.

24. argument] subject matter,


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