Chapter VII: Part 7

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[411] the mountain sides, in contrast bold
With ample shadows, seemingly, no less 1304
Than those resplendent lights, his rich bequest;
A dispensation of his evening power.
--Adown the path that[412] from the glen had led
The funeral train, the Shepherd and his Mate
Were seen descending:--forth to greet them ran[413]
Our little Page: the rustic pair approach; 1310
And in the Matron's countenance may be read
Plain indication[414] 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: 1315
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,[415] 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.[416]

VARIANTS:

[Footnote 284: 1827.

_Wanderer's ejaculation to the supreme Being--_ 1814.

1836.

_Account of his own devotional feelings in youth involved
in it--_ 1814.

_account of his own devotional feelings in youth involved_-- 1827.

1827.

_Implores that he may retain in age the power to find
repose among enduring and eternal things_-- 1814.

_What he wishes for in age_-- MS.

1827.

_What these latter are_-- 1814.
]

[Footnote 285: 1836.

_sorrow--but doubt or despondence not therefore to be inferred_-- 1814.

_sorrow--doubt_ 1827.

1836.

_And proceeds to administer consolation to the Solitary_-- 1814.

_Consolation to the Solitary_-- 1827.

_Consolation administered to the Solitary_-- MS.
]

[Footnote 286: 1827.

_How these are received--Wanderer resumes--and applies_ 1814.
]

[Footnote 287: 1827.

--_the disappointment of his expectations from_ 1814.
]

[Footnote 288: 1827.

_States the rational grounds_ 1814.
]

[Footnote 289: 1814.

_hope--insists_ 1827.

The text of 1836 returns to that of 1814.]

[Footnote 290: 1827.

_to the great revolutions of the world_-- 1814.
]

[Footnote 291: 1827.

_Rural life and Solitude particularly favourable to a_ 1814.
]

[Footnote 292: 1827.

_recommended for its influence on the affections and the
imagination_-- 1814.
]

[Footnote 293: 1827

_and an active Communion_ 1814.
]

[Footnote 294: 1827

_a pitiable thing--If the elevated imagination cannot be
exerted--try the humbler fancy--_ 1814.
]

[Footnote 295: 1827.

_--this illustrated_ 1814.
]

[Footnote 296: 1827.

_Wanderer, in answer,_ 1814.
]

[Footnote 297: 1827.

_feeling on the mind in the humble ranks of society, in
rural life especially--This illustrated_ 1814.
]

[Footnote 298: 1827.

_Observation that these principles_ 1814.
]

[Footnote 299: 1845.

_presumptive_ 1814.

The text of 1847 reverts to that of 1814.]

[Footnote 300: 1827.

_Philosophers, whom the Solitary appears to esteem--
Recommends to him_ 1814.

_Recommends to the Solitary--_ MS.
]

[Footnote 301: 1827.

_Solitary agitated, and asks how--_ 1814.
]

[Footnote 302: 1836.

_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--_ 1814.

_is apt to_ MS.

_Happy that the imagination and the affections mitigate
the evils of that intellectual slavery which the calculating
understanding is apt to produce--_ 1827.
]

[Footnote 303: 1827.

_How Nature is to be communed with--Wanderer concludes
with a prospect of a_ 1814.
]

[Footnote 304: 1827.

_the affections, the understanding, and the reason--_ 1814.
]

[Footnote 305: 1827.

_Effect of the Wanderer's discourse--_ 1814.
]

[Footnote 306: 1845.

And doubtless yielding ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 307: 1845.

Such pity yet surviving, with firm voice,
That did not falter though the heart was moved, 1814.

Such pity yet surviving, with clear voice
That falter'd not, albeit the heart was moved, 1836.
]

[Footnote 308: 1836.

And, if they wither, ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 309: 1827.

... or ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 310: 1827.

... frame 1814.
]

[Footnote 311: 1827.

... tow'rds the Deep 1814.
]

[Footnote 312: 1827.

... and to aspire 1814.
]

[Footnote 313: 1836.

... it be just and meet,
Through this, 'tis able to maintain its hold, 1814.
]

[Footnote 314: 1827.

... so senseless who could be
In framing estimates of loss and gain,
As long ... 1814.

In making estimates ... MS.
]

[Footnote 315: 1836.

... less. 1814.
]

[Footnote 316: This line was added in 1836.]

[Footnote 317: 1836.

Infer not hence a hope from those withheld 1814.
]

[Footnote 318: 1836.

Oh! no, full oft the innocent Sufferer sees 1814.
]

[Footnote 319: 1827

... its own pure Will. 1814.
]

[Footnote 320: 1827

Here then we rest: not fearing to be left
In undisturbed possession of our creed
For aught that human reasoning can achieve,
To unsettle or perplex us: ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 321: 1827.

... open vanities
Of dissipation; countless, still-renewed,
Ephemeral offspring ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 322: 1827.

And from the encroachment ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 323: 1827.

Tow'rds ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 324: 1845.

For such exalted confidence could e'er 1814.
]

[Footnote 325: 1827.

... such 1814.
]

[Footnote 326: 1827.

The two extremes are equally remote
From Truth and Reason;--do not, then, confound
One with the other, but reject them both;
And choose the middle point, whereon to build
Sound expectations. This doth he advise 1814.

... despair
Tho' transcient sadness were as natural
As that a cloud albeit silver bright
Should fling yon dark spot on the mountain side.
Forced by sharp recoil from one extreme MS.
]

[Footnote 327: 1814.

Which to your over-weening spirits feeds
Hope of a godlike flight, ... C.
]

[Footnote 328: 1827.

"Knowing"--(to adopt the energetic words
Which a time-hallowed Poet hath employed)
"Knowing ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 329: 1836.

The Redbreast feeds in winter from your hand; 1814.
]

[Footnote 330: 1836.

Towards her native firmament of heaven, 1814.
]

[Footnote 331: 1820.

This shady valley leaves,-- ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 332: 1845.

... a solemn bleat;
Sent forth as if it were the Mountain's voice, 1814.
]

[Footnote 333: 1845.

As he expressed; for, from the mountain's heart
The solemn bleat appeared to come; there was
No other--and the region all around
Stood silent, empty of all shape of life.
--It was a Lamb--left somewhere to itself, 1814.

As he expressed; from out the mountain's heart
The solemn bleat appeared to issue, startling
The blank air--for the region all around
Stood silent, empty of all shape of life: 1827.

As he described, the regions all around
Stood silent, empty of all shape of life.
And from the mountain's stony heart the voice
Appeared to come, though but the unanswered bleat C.

Again! in the surrounding vacancy
The effect upon the soul was ... C.
]

[Footnote 334: 1836.

... he thus ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 335: 1827.

Her foresight; and the intelligence ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 336: 1827.

... flocks, 1814.
]

[Footnote 337: 1836.

Unscattered by the wind, at whose loud call
Their voyage was begun: ... 1814.

By the rough wind unscattered, at whose call
Their voyage was begun: ... 1827.

Their voyage they began: ... C.
]

[Footnote 338: 1832.

... etherial arch 1814.
]

[Footnote 339: 1836.

Was to your sight revealed! ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 340: 1836.

... and perceived.
There is a luxury ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 341: 1836.

... these ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 342: 1827.

... towards ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 343: 1845.

An animated eye; and thoughts were mine
Which this ejaculation clothed in words-- 1814.

A kindling eye;--poetic feelings rushed
Into my bosom, whence these words broke forth: 1827.
]

[Footnote 344: 1845.

... exclaim aloud
Be this continued so from day to day,
Nor let it have an end from month to month!" 1814.

'Be this continued so from day to day,
Nor let the fierce commotion have an end,
Ruinous though it be, from month to month!'" 1827.

May this wild uproar last from day to day
Nor let from month to month the fierce commotion,
Ruinous though it be, abate its rage. C.
]

[Footnote 345: 1827.

Shall feel the stirrings of them late and long; 1814.
]

[Footnote 346: 1827.

... spots[EP] ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 347: 1827.

... expressed
As by a duplicate, at least set forth
With brotherly resemblance.... 1814.
]

[Footnote 348: 1836.

... by ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 349: 1836.

... endued 1814.
]

[Footnote 350: 1836.

The Sultan hides within ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 351: 1836.

... raised? 1814.
]

[Footnote 352: 1845.

A not unwholesome food, and earth and air
Supply his morbid humour with delight. 1814.

Food not unwholesome; earth and air correct
His morbid humour, with delight supplied. 1836.
]

[Footnote 353: 1836.

And shady groves, for recreation framed: 1814.
]

[Footnote 354: 1827.

This rather would I do ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 355: 1836.

Or if the Mind turn inward 'tis perplexed,
Lost in a gloom of uninspired research; 1814.
]

[Footnote 356: 1845.

... restlessly revolves,
Yet nowhere finds the cheering light of truth. 1814.

Rests not but on its axis, evermore
Revolving, nowhere finds the light of truth. C.

Seeks, yet can nowhere find the light of truth. C.
]

[Footnote 357: 1836.

He heard, upon the wind, ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 358: 1836.

... these pure Heights 1814.
]

[Footnote 359: 1827.

In ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 360: 1827.

The ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 361: 1827.

... brows-- 1814.
]

[Footnote 362: 1827.

... and, from that Height
Pure and serene, the Godhead overlook 1814.
]

[Footnote 363: 1836.

... of variegated sky, 1814.
]

[Footnote 364: 1836.

... did his hand bestow 1814.
]

[Footnote 365: 1836.

... denials 1814.
]

[Footnote 366: 1845.

"And moisten all day long ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 367: 1827.

There shall be,--seen, and heard, and felt, and known,
And recognized,--existence unexposed 1814.
]

[Footnote 368: 1827.

Of much exalted good that may attend
Upon the very humblest state.-- ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 369: 1836.

... who ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 370: 1836.

... and adapt
His round ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 371: 1827.

... a Man like this 1814.
]

[Footnote 372: 1827.

They come and go, appear and disappear; 1814.

... disappear'd, MS.
]

[Footnote 373: 1845.

Among wild mountains and unpeopled heaths, 1814.

Among wild hills, and thinly-peopled shores, C.
]

[Footnote 374: 1814.

Once more to distant ages of the world
Let us revert and contemplate the face,
That face which rural solitude might wear
To the unenlightened sons of pagan Greece. C.

Which Nature in her solitudes might wear. C.
]

[Footnote 375: 1836.

... lifting up his eyes
Towards the crescent Moon, ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 376: 1814.

Helped by the reflection of her own fair face,
Or rather say the lover at her side,
Looking with earnest eyes into the depth
Of a still lake amid the glimmering growth
Of plants that there were nourished. C.

Helped by reflection of her own fair face,
Or, if not she, the lover at her side,
Some beautiful inhabitant who there
Might dwell in calm security unknown
To mortal credence. Hence the green haired brood. C.
]

[Footnote 377: 1827.

... heavens, 1814.
]

[Footnote 378: 1845.

No apter Strain could have been chosen: I marked 1814.

As this apt strain proceeded, I could mark 1827.
]

[Footnote 379: 1827.

... on ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 380: 1836.

Who fled to caves, and woods, and naked rocks 1814.
]

[Footnote 381: 1845.

In caves, and woods, and under dismal rocks,
Deprived of shelter, covering, fire, and food; 1814.

In woods, and dwell beneath impending rocks
Ill-sheltered, and oft wanting fire and food; 1836.
]

[Footnote 382: 1827.

With which the desarts rang ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 383: 1836.

... Souls-- 1814.
]

[Footnote 384: 1827.

... could He design,
Or will his rites and services permit,
That this ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 385: 1827.

... which ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 386: 1836.

... end ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 387: 1827.

... when the human soul
Is ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 388: 1827.

... doth ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 389: 1840.

His tottering Body was oppressed with flowers;
Far less becoming ornaments than those
With which Spring often decks a mouldering Tree! 1814.

His tottering Body was with wreaths of flowers
Opprest, far less becoming ornaments
Than Spring oft twines about a mouldering Tree; 1827.
]

[Footnote 390: 1827.

... framed, ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 391: 1845.

... better Lights and Guides than
these-- 1814.
]

[Footnote 392: 1827.

... is ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 393: 1827.

... and thereby can live, 1814.
]

[Footnote 394: 1836.

... disconsolate and black, 1814.
]

[Footnote 395: 1836.

On stormy waters, in a little Boat 1814.
]

[Footnote 396: 1827.

In rueful tone,
With some impatience in his mien he spake;
And this reply was given.-- 1814.
]

[Footnote 397: 1827.

--For Him, to whom I speak, an easy road 1814.

Then do not droop, a hopeful road for you. MS.
]

[Footnote 398: 1814.

And while in silence hushed ... C.
]

[Footnote 399: 1845.

Brightened with joy; for murmurings from within
Were heard,--sonorous cadences! whereby,
To his belief, the Monitor expressed 1814.
]

[Footnote 400: 1827.

... the ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 401: 1827.

And ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 402: 1836.

Doth know and love ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 403: 1827.

... of absent Things,
Convoked by knowledge; and for his delight
Still ready to obey the gentle call.
Trust me, ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 404: 1827.

For them shall all things speak of Man, they read
Their duties in all forms; ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 405: 1827.

Departing not, they shall at length obtain ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 406: 1836.

Unswerving shall we move, as if impelled 1814.
]

[Footnote 407: 1845.

... Whate'er we see,
Whate'er we feel, by agency direct
Or indirect shall tend to feed and nurse
Our faculties, shall fix in calmer seats
Of moral strength, and raise to loftier heights
Of love divine, our intellectual Soul." 1814.

Whate'er we feel, shall tend to feed and nurse,
By agency direct or indirect,
Our faculties, shall fix in calmer seats
Of moral strength, and raise to loftier heights
Of divine love, ... 1836.

... Whate'er we see
Or feel shall tend to quicken and refine
The humbler functions of corporeal sense. C.

... or refine
The humblest ... MS.
]

[Footnote 408: 1827.

... of the assembled Tribes, 1814.
]

[Footnote 409: 1836.

... shall not pass away;
For they sank into me-- ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 410: 1836.

... language ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 411: 1836.

Upon ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 412: 1827.

... which ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 413: 1827.

... forth in transport ran 1814.
]

[Footnote 414: 1845.

... aspect may be read
A plain assurance ... 1814.
]

[Footnote 415: 1845.

... slept, 1814.
]

[Footnote 416: Added in C.

Till every thought as gently as a flower,
That shuts its eyes at close of every day
Had folded up itself in dreamless sleep.[FY]
]

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote DW: In January 1849, the year before Wordsworth's death, he was asked by Mr. Francis C. Yarnall of Philadelphia for his autograph, for a lady in America; and, in reply, he wrote the four lines, beginning

Soul of our Souls, and safeguard of the world!

They were doubtless suggested to him at the time by the death of his own daughter. See Mr. Yarnall's paper on "Wordsworth's Influence in America," in the _Transactions of the Wordsworth Society_, No. v.--ED.]

[Footnote DX: With this whole passage compare the teaching of Kant's three _Kritiken_.--ED.]

[Footnote DY: Compare the _Ode, Intimations of Immortality_--

Trailing clouds of glory do we come
From God, who is our home.

ED.]

[Footnote DZ: Compare book i. l. 200.--ED.]

[Footnote EA: Compare book i. ll. 215-16.--ED.]

[Footnote EB: Compare _Lines composed a few miles above Tintern Abbey_, ll. 83-85 (vol. ii. p. 54)--

That time is past,
And all its aching joys are now no more,
And all its dizzy raptures. ED.
]

[Footnote EC: See Matthew Sylvester's _Reliquiæ Baxterianæ_, _or the Life of Richard Baxter_, book i. part i. l. 213, p. 32: "To despise earth is easy to me; but not so easy to be acquainted and conversant in Heaven. I have nothing in this world which I could not easily let go: but to get satisfying apprehension of the other world is the great and grievous difficulty."

See also Wordsworth's note, p. 387.--ED.]

[Footnote ED: See Wordsworth's note, p. 387.--ED.]

[Footnote EE: Compare Milton's _Ode on the Nativity_, l. 119.--ED.]

[Footnote EF: St. Matt. xi. 19.--ED.]

[Footnote EG: See Wordsworth's note, p. 387.--ED.]

[Footnote EH: Samuel Daniel; from his poem, _To the Lady Margaret, Countess of Cumberland_. In his note Wordsworth says, "The two last lines printed in italics, are by him" (_i.e._ Daniel) "translated from Seneca." The passage is: "O quam contempta res est homo, nisi supra humana surrexerit" (_Natur. quaest._ lib. i. praef. 4). The discovery of this passage cost the late Bishop of St. Andrews several long days' hunting through Seneca's works. He wrote me afterwards: "The passage has nothing to do with moral elevation, the next words are 'quam diu cum affectibus colluctamur quid magnifici facimus.'"

The following occurs in _The Soul's Conflict_, by Richard Sibbes (1635), ch. ix.--"We see likewise hence a necessity of having something in the soul above itself. It must be partaker of a diviner nature than itself; otherwise, when the most refined part of our souls, the very spirit of our minds, is out of frame, what shall bring it in again?" See also the extract from Bacon's Essay, XVI., prefixed to _The White Doe of Rylstone_ (vol. iv. p. 105).--ED.]

[Footnote EI: The fact of the eagle having once haunted the Cumbrian and Westmoreland valleys is proved by the number of rocks, crags, etc., that are named from it.--ED.]

[Footnote EJ: The following occurs in the Fenwick note to the lines addressed _To Joanna_ in the "Poems on the naming of Places" (vol. ii. p. 157): "The effect of the reverberation of voices in some parts of the mountains is very striking. There is, in _The Excursion_, an allusion to the bleat of a lamb thus re-echoed, and described without any exaggeration, as I heard it, on the side of Stickle Tarn, from the precipice that stretches on to Langdale Pikes." The "precipice" referred to is Pavy Ark.--ED.]

[Footnote EK: There are many ant-hills in this district of Westmoreland. Note that the description here is of the effect of a lake seen from above, looking down on it.--ED.]

[Footnote EL: The fieldfares have a habit of settling together, and sitting perfectly still, till they are disturbed; when they fly off, and settling again, sit silently as before.--ED.]

[Footnote EM: Blea Tarn.--ED.]

[Footnote EN: Compare "Rules and Lessons" in Henry Vaughan's _Silex Scintillans_.--ED.]

[Footnote EO: The heights of Blake Rigg and Lingmoor.--ED.]

[Footnote EP: Possibly a misprint in the editions of 1814 and 1820.--ED.]

[Footnote EQ: Compare the _Poet's Epitaph_ (vol. ii. p. 75).--ED.]

[Footnote ER: Compare Genesis iii. 8.--ED.]

[Footnote ES: Genesis xviii. 1, 2.--ED.]

[Footnote ET: Genesis iii. 24.--ED.]

[Footnote EU: Genesis iii. 16, 17.--ED.]

[Footnote EV: Exodus vi. 3.--ED.]

[Footnote EW: Exodus xxxiii. 9; xxxiv. 5.--ED.]

[Footnote EX: Exodus xxxvii. 1; Hebrews ix. 4.--ED.]

[Footnote EY: Exodus xxv. 22.--ED.]

[Footnote EZ: Exodus xv. 25; xvi. 4, etc. etc.--ED.]

[Footnote FA: Exodus vii.-xi.--ED.]

[Footnote FB: The ancient Persian religion was nature worship.--ED.]

[Footnote FC: Compare _Lines composed a few miles above Tintern Abbey_, II. 100-102 (vol. ii. p. 55)--

A motion and a spirit, that impels
All thinking things, all objects of all thought,
And rolls through all things. ED.
]

[Footnote FD: Herodotus thus describes the temple of Belus:--"... A square enclosure two furlongs each way, with gates of solid brass; which were also remaining in my time. In the middle of the precinct there was a tower of solid masonry, a furlong in length and breadth, upon which was raised a second tower, and on that a third, and so up to eight. The ascent to the top is on the outside, by a path which winds round all the towers. When one is about half way up, one finds a resting place and seats, where persons are wont to sit some time in their way to the summit. On the topmost tower there is a spacious Temple, and inside the Temple stands a couch of unusual size, richly adorned, with a golden table by its side. There is no statue of any kind set up in the place.... The Chaldeans, the priests of this God, declare--but I, for my part, do not credit it--that the God comes down nightly into this chamber and sleeps upon the couch."--Herodotus, i. 181. See Rawlinson's version, vol. i. pp. 319, 320. Compare also Josephus, _Ant. Jud._ x. 11, and Strabo, 16.--ED.]

[Footnote FE: Saturn, Jupiter, Mars, Venus, Mercury--the only planets known to the ancients, the Earth not being included.--ED.]

[Footnote FF: The reference here is still apparently to the "planetary Five," which are _all_ described as "radiant Mercuries" (although one of them was Mercury), because they all--

seemed to move
Carrying through ether, in perpetual round,
Decrees and resolutions of the Gods;
And, by their aspects, signifying works
Of dim futurity.

This astrological allusion makes it clear that the reference is to the supposed "planetary influence," and to the movements of these bodies--controlled by the gods--with which the fate of mortals was believed to be upbound. For an account of the Gods of the Five Planets, see _Chaldean Magic_, by François Lenormant, pp. 26 and 118.--ED.]

[Footnote FG: Compare _Lycidas_, 1. 154--

Ay me! whilst thee the shores and sounding seas,

and note that Charles Lamb, who was familiar with _The Excursion_, quotes the above line ("Distant Correspondents") thus--

Aye me! while thee the seas and sounding shores. ED.
]

[Footnote FH: The strolling Greek minstrels from Homer onwards, predecessors of the Troubadours.--ED.]

[Footnote FI: The reference is doubtless to Pausanias, i. 37, 3. "Before you cross the Cephisus, there is the monument of Theodorus, who excelled all his contemporaries as an actor in tragedy; and near to the river, there are [two] statues, one of Mnesimache, another of her son, in the act of cutting off his hair [over the stream and presenting it] as a votive offering to the Cephisus." See Note D in the Appendix to this volume, p. 396.--ED.]

[Footnote FJ: Compare _King Henry VI._, Part III. act ii. scene v. ll. 23-35--

To sit upon a hill, as I do now,
To carve out dials quaintly, point by point,
Thereby to see the minutes how they run. ED.
]

[Footnote FK: Apollo.--ED.]

[Footnote FL: Diana.--ED.]

[Footnote FM: The ναἴάδες (water-nymphs) and ὁρειάδες (mountain-nymphs), with others of the meadows woods and dales, sprung from the fertile imagination of the Greeks. Wordsworth's explanation of the origin of these myths from natural causes is not peculiar to him, although his lines are a _locus classicus_ on the subject; but his explanation of the "lurking Satyrs," as due to the sight of the horns of the deer, or the goats, in the woods, is probably his own.--ED.]

[Footnote FN: St. Fillan. There were two Scottish saints of that name. The first, and most famous, the particulars of whose life are recorded in the Breviary of Aberdeen, Felanus, or Fœlanus, Fælan, Fillanus, Filane, or Phillane, the son of Kentigern. In Perthshire, the scene of his labours, a river and a strath are called after him, and a Church dedicated to him. He was associated with the battle of Bannockburn. (See _Kalendars of Scottish Saints_, by A. P. Forbes, Bishop of Brechin.)--ED.]

[Footnote FO: For the legendary History of St. Giles see the Breviary of the Roman Church. (It has been translated recently by the Marquis of Bute.) Dr. Cameron Lees, minister of St. Giles' Cathedral Church, Edinburgh, sends me the following notice of the Saint:--"How St. Giles became the patron Saint of Edinburgh is not known. His 'hind' is upon the arms of the city.[FQ] An arm bone of St. Giles was one of the chief treasures of the church. It was brought from France by Preston of Gorton, who procured it by the 'assistance of the King of France.' This relic was contained in a richly jewelled shrine, and carried through Edinburgh in procession on the Saint's day, the 1st September. An account of this procession is given by Sir D. Lindsay and by Knox. The only other church in Scotland under the dedication of St. Giles was at Elgin."--ED.]

[Footnote FP: Now happily accomplished through the labour and the munificence of the late Dr. Chambers.--ED.]

[Footnote FQ: For reference to the "Hind," see the Breviary.--ED.]

[Footnote FR: Compare the _Poet's Epitaph_ (vol. ii. p. 75).--ED.]

[Footnote FS: Voltaire.--ED.]

[Footnote FT: In his eighty-fourth year, Voltaire went up to Paris from Ferney in Switzerland (where he had lived for twenty years), and amid the tumultuous enthusiasm of the Parisians, he was crowned at the Comédie Française, as the Athenian poets used to be. "The Court of the Louvre, vast as it is, was full of people waiting for him. As soon as his notable vehicle came in sight, the cry arose, _Le voilà!_ The Savoyards, the apple-women, all the rabble of the quarter had assembled there, and the acclamations _Vive Voltaire!_ resounded as if they would never end.... There was no end till he placed himself on the front seat, beside the ladies. Then rose a cry _La Couronne!_ and Brizard, the actor, came and put the garland on his head. _Ah Dieu! vous voulez donc me faire mourir?_ cried M. de Voltaire, weeping with joy, and resisting the honour.... The Prince de Beauvan, seizing the laurel, replaced it on the head of our Sophocles, who could refuse no longer." (_Memoires sur Voltaire_, par Longchamp et Wagnière.)--ED.]

[Footnote FU: Compare Walter Savage Landor, _Gebir_, book i. l. 159--

But I have sinuous shells of pearly hue
Within, and they that lustre have imbibed
In the Sun's palace-porch, where when unyoked
His chariot-wheel stands midway in the wave:
Shake one and it awakens, then apply
Its polish'd lips to your attentive ear,
And it remembers its august abodes,
And murmurs as the ocean murmurs there.

Compare also the Fenwick note to the _Evening Voluntary_, beginning--

What mischief cleaves ED.
]

[Footnote FV: The nightingale is not heard farther north than the Trent valley, and there are no woodlarks in the Lake country, as hawks are numerous.--ED.]

[Footnote FW: See note FV on previous page.]

[Footnote FX: The following occurs in Dorothy Wordsworth's Grasmere Journal, July 27, 1800:--"After tea we rowed down to Loughrigg Fell, visited the white foxglove, gathered wild strawberries, and walked up to view Rydale. We lay a long time looking at the lake; the shores all dim with the scorching sun. The ferns were turning yellow, that is, here and there one was quite turned. We walked round by Benson's wood home. The lake was now most still, and reflected the beautiful yellow and blue and purple and grey colours of the sky. We heard a strange sound in the Bainriggs wood, as we were floating on the water: it _seemed_ in the wood, but it must have been above it, for presently we saw a raven very high above us. It called out, and the dome of the sky seemed to echo the sound. It called again and again as it flew onwards, and the mountains gave back the sound, seeming as if from their centre; a musical bell-like answering to the bird's hoarse voice. We heard both the call of the bird, and the echo, after we could see him no longer."

Compare the Fenwick note to the _Evening Voluntary_ (1834), beginning--

The leaves that rustled on this oak-crowned hill. ED.
]

Book Fifth

THE PASTOR

ARGUMENT

_Farewell to the Valley--Reflections--A large and populous Vale described[417]--The Pastor's Dwelling, and some account of him[418]--Church and Monuments--The Solitary musing, and where--Roused--In the Churchyard the Solitary communicates the thoughts which had recently passed through his mind--Lofty tone of the Wanderer's discourse of yesterday adverted to--Rite of Baptism, and the professions accompanying it, contrasted with the real state of human life--Apology for the Rite[419]--Inconsistency of the best men--Acknowledgment that practice falls far below the injunctions of duty as existing in the mind--General complaint of a falling off in the value of life after the time of youth--Outward appearances of content and happiness in degree illusive--Pastor approaches--Appeal made to him--His answer--Wanderer in sympathy with him--Suggestion that the least ambitious enquirers may be most free from error--The Pastor is desired to give some portraits of the living or dead from his own observation of life among these Mountains--and for what purpose--Pastor consents--Mountain cottage--Excellent qualities of its Inhabitants--Solitary expresses his pleasure; but denies the praise of virtue to worth of this kind--Feelings of the Priest before he enters upon his account of persons interred in the Churchyard--Graves of unbaptised Infants[420]--Funeral and sepulchral observances, whence--Ecclesiastical Establishments, whence derived--Profession of belief in the doctrine of Immortality_

"Farewell, deep Valley, with thy one rude House,
And its small lot of life-supporting fields,
And guardian rocks!--Farewell, attractive seat![421]
To the still influx of the morning light
Open, and[422] day's pure cheerfulness, but veiled 5
From human observation,[FZ] as if yet
Primeval forests wrapped thee round with dark
Impenetrable shade; once more farewell,
Majestic circuit, beautiful abyss,
By Nature destined from the birth of things 10
For quietness profound!"
Upon the side
Of that brown ridge, sole outlet of the vale[GA]
Which foot of boldest stranger would attempt,
Lingering[423] behind my comrades, thus I breathed
A parting tribute to a spot that seemed 15
Like the fixed centre of a troubled world.
Again I halted with reverted eyes;
The chain that would not slacken, was at length
Snapt,--and, pursuing leisurely my way,
How vain, thought I, is it by change of place[424] 20
To seek that comfort which the mind denies;
Yet trial and temptation oft are shunned
Wisely; and by such tenure[425] do we hold
Frail life's possessions, that even they whose fate
Yields no peculiar reason of complaint 25
Might, by the promise that is here, be won
To steal from active duties, and embrace
Obscurity, and undisturbed repose.[426]
--Knowledge, methinks, in these disordered times,
Should be allowed a privilege to have 30
Her anchorites, like piety of old;[GB]
Men, who, from faction sacred, and unstained
By war, might, if so minded, turn aside
Uncensured, and subsist, a scattered few
Living to God and nature, and content 35
With that communion. Consecrated be
The spots where such abide! But happier still
The Man, whom, furthermore, a hope attends
That meditation and research may guide
His privacy to principles and powers 40
Discovered or invented; or set forth,
Through his acquaintance with the ways of truth,
In lucid order; so that, when his course
Is run, some faithful eulogist may say,
He sought not praise, and praise did overlook 45
His unobtrusive merit; but his life,
Sweet to himself, was exercised in good
That shall survive his name and memory.

Acknowledgments of gratitude sincere
Accompanied these musings; fervent thanks 50
For my own peaceful lot and happy choice;
A choice that from the passions of the world
Withdrew, and fixed me in a still retreat;
Sheltered, but not to social duties lost,
Secluded, but not buried; and with song 55
Cheering my days, and with industrious thought;
With the ever-welcome[427] company of books;
With[428] virtuous friendship's soul-sustaining aid,
And with the blessings of domestic love.

Thus occupied in mind I paced along, 60
Following the rugged road, by sledge or wheel
Worn in the moorland,[GC] till I overtook
My two Associates, in the morning sunshine
Halting together on a rocky knoll,
Whence the bare road[429] descended rapidly 65
To the green meadows of another vale.[GD]

Here did our pensive Host put forth his hand
In sign of farewell. "Nay," the old Man said,
"The fragrant air its coolness still retains;
The herds and flocks are yet abroad to crop 70
The dewy grass; you cannot leave us now,
We must not part at this inviting hour."
He yielded,[430] though reluctant; for his mind
Instinctively disposed him to retire
To his own covert; as a billow, heaved 75
Upon the beach, rolls back into the sea.
--So we descend: and winding round a rock
Attain a point that showed the valley--stretched
In length before us;[GE] and, not distant far,
Upon a rising ground a grey church-tower,(GE) 80
Whose battlements were screened by tufted trees.
And towards a crystal Mere, that lay beyond
Among steep hills and woods embosomed, flowed
A copious stream with boldly-winding course;
Here traceable, there hidden--there again 85
To sight restored, and glittering in the sun.
On the stream's bank, and every where, appeared
Fair dwellings, single, or in social knots;
Some scattered o'er the level, others perched
On the hill sides, a cheerful quiet scene, 90
Now in its morning purity arrayed.

"As 'mid some happy valley of the Alps,"
Said I, "once happy, ere tyrannic power,
Wantonly breaking in upon the Swiss,
Destroyed their unoffending commonwealth, 95
A popular equality reigns here,
Save for yon stately House[GF] beneath whose roof
A rural lord might dwell."--"No feudal pomp,
Or power," replied the Wanderer, "to that House
Belongs, but there in his allotted Home 100
Abides, from year to year, a genuine Priest,[431]
The shepherd of his flock; or, as a king
Is styled, when most affectionately praised,
The father of his people. Such is he;
And rich and poor, and young and old, rejoice 105
Under his spiritual sway. He hath vouchsafed[432]
To me some portion of a[433] kind regard;
And something also of his inner mind
Hath he imparted--but I speak of him
As he is known to all.
The calm delights 110
Of unambitious piety he chose,
And learning's solid dignity; though born
Of knightly race, nor wanting powerful friends.
Hither,[434] in prime of manhood, he withdrew
From academic bowers. He loved the spot-- 115
Who does not love his native soil?--he prized
The ancient rural character, composed
Of simple manners, feelings unsupprest
And undisguised, and strong and serious thought;
A character reflected in himself, 120
With such embellishment as well beseems
His rank and sacred function. This deep vale
Winds far in reaches hidden from our sight,
And one a turreted manorial hall
Adorns, in which the good Man's ancestors 125
Have dwelt through ages--Patrons of this Cure.
To them, and to his own judicious pains,[435]
The Vicar's dwelling, and the whole domain,
Owes that presiding aspect which might well
Attract your notice; statelier than could else 130
Have been bestowed, through[436] course of common chance,
On an unwealthy mountain Benefice."

This said, oft pausing,[437] we pursued our way;
Nor reached the village-churchyard[GG] till the sun
Travelling at steadier pace than ours, had risen 135
Above the summits of the highest hills,
And round our path darted oppressive beams.

As chanced, the portals of the sacred Pile
Stood open; and we entered. On my frame,
At such transition from the fervid air, 140
A grateful coolness fell, that seemed to strike
The heart, in concert with that temperate awe
And natural reverence which the place inspired.[GH]
Not raised in[438] nice proportions was the pile;
But large and massy; for duration built; 145
With pillars crowded, and the roof upheld
By naked rafters intricately crossed,
Like leafless underboughs, in some thick wood,[439]
All withered by the depth of shade above.
Admonitory texts inscribed the walls, 150
Each, in its ornamental scroll, enclosed;
Each also crowned with winged heads--a pair
Of rudely-painted Cherubim. The floor
Of nave and aisle, in unpretending guise,
Was occupied by oaken benches ranged 155
In seemly rows; the chancel only showed
Some vain distinctions, marks of earthly state
By immemorial privilege allowed;
Though with the Encincture's special sanctity
But ill according. An heraldic shield, 160
Varying its tincture with the changeful light,
Imbued the altar-window; fixed aloft
A faded hatchment hung, and one by time
Yet undiscoloured.[440] A capacious pew
Of sculptured oak stood here, with drapery lined; 165
And marble monuments were here displayed
Thronging the walls;[441] and on the floor beneath
Sepulchral stones appeared, with emblems graven
And foot-worn epitaphs, and some with small
And shining effigies of brass inlaid.[GI] 170

The tribute by these various records claimed,
Duly we paid, each after each, and read[442]
The ordinary chronicle of birth,
Office, alliance, and promotion--all
Ending in dust; of upright magistrates, 175
Grave doctors strenuous for the mother-church,
And uncorrupted senators, alike
To king and people true. A brazen plate,
Not easily deciphered, told of one
Whose course of earthly honour was begun 180
In quality of page among the train
Of the eighth Henry, when he crossed the seas
His royal state to show, and prove his strength
In tournament, upon the fields of France.
Another tablet registered the death, 185
And praised the gallant bearing, of a Knight
Tried in the sea-fights of the second Charles.
Near this brave Knight his father lay entombed;
And, to the silent language giving voice,
I read,--how in his manhood's earlier day 190
He, 'mid the afflictions of intestine war,
And rightful government subverted, found
One only solace--that he had espoused
A virtuous Lady tenderly beloved
For her benign perfections; and yet more 195
Endeared to him, for this,[443] that, in her state
Of wedlock richly crowned with Heaven's regard,
She with a numerous issue filled his house,
Who throve, like plants, uninjured by the storm
That laid their country waste. No need to speak 200
Of less particular notices assigned
To Youth or Maiden gone before their time,
And Matrons and unwedded Sisters old;
Whose charity and goodness were rehearsed
In modest panegyric.
"These dim lines, 205
What would they tell?" said I,--but, from the task
Of puzzling out that faded narrative,
With whisper soft my venerable Friend
Called me; and, looking down the darksome aisle,
I saw the Tenant of the lonely vale 210
Standing apart; with curvèd arm reclined
On the baptismal font; his pallid face
Upturned, as if his mind were rapt, or lost
In some abstraction; gracefully he stood,
The semblance bearing of a sculptured form 215
That leans upon a monumental urn
In peace, from morn to night, from year to year.

Him from that posture did the Sexton rouse;
Who entered, humming carelessly a tune,[GJ]
Continuation haply of the notes 220
That had beguiled the work from which he came,
With spade and mattock o'er his shoulder hung;
To be deposited, for future need,
In their appointed place. The pale Recluse
Withdrew; and straight we followed,--to a spot 225
Where sun and shade were intermixed; for there
A broad oak, stretching forth its leafy arms
From an adjoining pasture, overhung
Small space of that green churchyard with a light
And pleasant awning.[GK] On the moss-grown wall 230
My ancient Friend and I together took
Our seats; and thus the Solitary spake,
Standing before us:--
"Did you note the mien
Of that self-solaced, easy-hearted churl, 234
Death's hireling, who scoops out his neighbour's grave,
Or wraps an old acquaintance up in clay,
All unconcerned as he would bind a sheaf,
Or plant a tree.[GL] And did you hear his voice?[444]
I was abruptly summoned by the sound[445]
From some affecting images and thoughts, 240
Which then were silent; but crave utterance now.

"Much," he continued, with dejected look,
"Much, yesterday,[446] was said in glowing phrase
Of our sublime dependencies, and hopes
For future states of being; and the wings 245
Of speculation, joyfully outspread,
Hovered above our destiny on earth:
But stoop, and place the prospect of the soul
In sober contrast with reality,
And man's substantial life. If this mute earth 250
Of what it holds could speak, and every grave
Were as a volume, shut, yet capable
Of yielding its contents to eye and ear,
We should recoil, stricken with sorrow and shame,
To see disclosed, by such dread proof, how ill 255
That which is done accords with what is known
To reason, and by conscience is enjoined;
How idly, how perversely, life's whole course,
To this conclusion, deviates from the line,
Or of the end stops short, proposed to all 260
At her[447] aspiring outset.
"Mark the babe
Not long accustomed to this breathing world;
One that hath barely learned to shape a smile,
Though yet irrational of soul, to grasp
With tiny finger[448]--to let fall a tear; 265
And, as the heavy cloud of sleep dissolves,
To stretch his limbs, bemocking, as might seem,
The outward functions of intelligent man;
A grave proficient in amusive feats
Of puppetry, that from the lap declare 270
His expectations, and announce his claims
To that inheritance which millions rue
That they were ever born to! In due time
A day of solemn ceremonial comes;
When they, who for this Minor hold in trust 275
Rights that transcend the loftiest[449] heritage
Of mere humanity, present their Charge,
For this occasion daintily adorned,
At the baptismal font. And when the pure
And consecrating element hath cleansed 280
The original stain, the child is there received
Into the second ark, Christ's church, with trust
That he, from wrath redeemed, therein shall float
Over the billows of this troublesome world
To the fair land of everlasting life. 285
Corrupt affections, covetous desires,
Are all renounced; high as the thought of man
Can carry virtue, virtue is professed;
A dedication made, a promise given
For due provision to control and guide, 290
And unremitting progress to ensure
In holiness and truth."
"You cannot blame,"
Here interposing fervently I said,
"Rites which attest that Man by nature lies
Bedded for good and evil in a gulf 295
Fearfully low; nor will your judgment scorn
Those services, whereby attempt is made
To lift the creature toward[450] that eminence
On which, now fallen, erewhile in majesty
He stood; or if not so, whose top serene 300
At least he feels 'tis given him to descry;
Not without aspirations, evermore
Returning, and injunctions from within
Doubt to cast off and weariness; in trust
That what the Soul perceives, if glory lost, 305
May be, through pains and persevering hope,
Recovered; or, if hitherto unknown,
Lies within reach, and one day shall be gained."

"I blame them not," he calmly answered--"no;
The outward ritual and established forms 310
With which communities of men invest
These inward feelings, and the aspiring vows
To which the lips give public utterance
Are both a natural process; and by me
Shall pass uncensured; though the issue prove, 315
Bringing from age to age its own reproach,
Incongruous, impotent, and blank.--But, oh!
If to be weak is to be wretched--miserable,[GM]
As the lost Angel by a human voice
Hath mournfully pronounced, then, in my mind, 320
Far better not to move at all than move
By impulse sent from such illusive power,--
That finds and cannot fasten down; that grasps
And is rejoiced, and loses while it grasps;
That tempts, emboldens--for a time sustains,[451] 325
And then betrays; accuses and inflicts
Remorseless punishment; and so retreads
The inevitable circle; better far
Than this, to graze the herb in thoughtless peace,
By foresight or remembrance, undisturbed! 330

"Philosophy! and thou more vaunted name
Religion! with thy statelier retinue,
Faith, Hope, and Charity--from the visible world
Choose for your emblems whatsoe'er ye find
Of safest guidance or[452] of firmest trust-- 335
The torch, the star, the anchor; nor except
The cross itself, at whose unconscious feet
The generations of mankind have knelt
Ruefully seized, and shedding bitter tears,
And through that conflict seeking rest--of you, 340
High-titled Powers, am I constrained to ask,
Here standing, with the unvoyageable sky
In faint reflection of infinitude
Stretched overhead, and at my pensive feet
A subterraneous magazine of bones, 345
In whose dark vaults my own shall soon be laid,
Where are your triumphs? your dominion where?
And in what age admitted and confirmed?
--Not for a happy land do I enquire,
Island or grove, that hides a blessed few 350
Who, with obedience willing and sincere,
To your serene authorities conform;
But whom, I ask, of individual Souls,
Have ye withdrawn from passion's crooked ways,
Inspired, and thoroughly fortified?--If the heart 355
Could be inspected to its inmost folds
By sight undazzled with the glare of praise,
Who shall be named--in the resplendent line
Of sages, martyrs, confessors--the man
Whom the best might of faith, wherever fix'd,[453] 360
For one day's little compass, has preserved
From painful and discreditable shocks
Of contradiction, from some vague desire
Culpably cherished, or corrupt relapse
To some unsanctioned fear?"
"If this be so, 365
And Man," said I, "be in his noblest shape
Thus pitiably infirm; then, he who made,
And who shall judge the creature, will forgive.
--Yet, in its general tenor, your complaint
Is all too true; and surely not misplaced: 370
For, from this pregnant spot of ground, such thoughts
Rise to the notice of a serious mind
By natural exhalation. With the dead
In their repose, the living in their mirth,
Who can reflect, unmoved, upon the round 375
Of smooth and solemnized complacencies,
By which, on Christian lands, from age to age
Profession mocks performance? Earth is sick,
And Heaven is weary, of the hollow words
Which States and Kingdoms utter when they talk 380
Of truth and justice. Turn to private life
And social neighbourhood; look we to ourselves;
A light of duty shines on every day
For all; and yet how few are warmed or cheered!
How few who mingle with their fellow-men 385
And still remain self-governed, and apart,
Like this our honoured Friend; and thence acquire
Right to expect his vigorous decline,
That promises to the end a blest old age!"

"Yet," with a smile of triumph thus exclaimed 390
The Solitary, "in the life of man,
If to the poetry of common speech
Faith may be given, we see as in a glass
A true reflection of the circling year,
With all its seasons. Grant that Spring is there, 395
In spite of many a rough untoward blast,
Hopeful and promising with buds and flowers;
Yet where is glowing Summer's long rich day,
That _ought_ to follow faithfully expressed?
And mellow Autumn, charged with bounteous fruit, 400
Where is she imaged? in what favoured clime
Her lavish pomp, and ripe magnificence?
--Yet, while the better part is missed, the worse
In man's autumnal season is set forth
With a resemblance not to be denied, 405
And that contents him; bowers that hear no more
The voice of gladness, less and less supply
Of outward sunshine and internal warmth;
And, with this change, sharp air and falling leaves,
Foretelling aged Winter's desolate sway.[454] 410

"How gay the habitations that bedeck[455]
This fertile valley! Not a house but seems
To give assurance of content within;[GN]
Embosomed happiness, and placid love;
As if the sunshine of the day were met 415
With answering brightness in the hearts of all
Who walk this favoured ground. But chance-regards,
And notice forced upon incurious ears;
These, if these only, acting in despite
Of the encomiums by my Friend pronounced 420
On humble life, forbid the judging mind
To trust the smiling aspect of this fair
And noiseless commonwealth. The simple race
Of mountaineers (by nature's self removed
From foul temptations, and by constant care 425
Of a good shepherd tended as themselves
Do tend their flocks) partake man's general lot[456]
With little mitigation. They escape,
Perchance, the heavier woes of guilt; feel not[457]
The tedium of fantastic idleness: 430
Yet life, as with the multitude, with them
Is fashioned like an ill-constructed tale;
That on the outset wastes its gay desires,
Its fair adventures, its enlivening hopes,
And pleasant interests--for the sequel leaving 435
Old things repeated with diminished grace;
And all the laboured novelties at best
Imperfect substitutes, whose use and power
Evince the want and weakness whence they spring."

While in this serious mood we held discourse, 440
The reverend Pastor toward[458] the church-yard gate
Approached; and, with a mild respectful air
Of native cordiality, our Friend
Advanced to greet him. With a gracious mien
Was he received, and mutual joy prevailed. 445
Awhile they stood in conference, and I guess
That he, who now upon the mossy wall
Sate by my side, had vanished, if a wish
Could have transferred him to the flying clouds,
Or the least penetrable hiding-place 450
In his own valley's rocky guardianship.[459]
--For me, I looked upon the pair, well pleased:
Nature had framed them both, and both were marked
By circumstance, with intermixture fine
Of contrast and resemblance. To an oak 455
Hardy and grand, a weather-beaten oak,
Fresh in the strength and majesty of age,
One might be likened: flourishing appeared,
Though somewhat past the fulness of his prime,
The other--like a stately sycamore,[GO] 460
That spreads, in gentle[460] pomp, its honied shade.

A general greeting was exchanged; and soon
The Pastor learned that his approach had given
A welcome interruption to discourse
Grave, and in truth too[461] often sad.--"Is Man 465
A child of hope? Do generations press
On generations, without progress made?
Halts the individual, ere his hairs be grey,
Perforce? Are we a creature in whom good
Preponderates, or evil? Doth the will 470
Acknowledge reason's law? A living power
Is virtue, or no better than a name,
Fleeting as health or beauty, and unsound?
So that the only substance which remains,
(For thus the tenor of complaint hath run) 475
Among so many shadows, are the pains
And penalties of miserable life,
Doomed to decay, and then expire in dust!
--Our cogitations this way have been drawn, 479
These are the points," the Wanderer said, "on which
Our inquest turns.--Accord, good Sir! the light
Of your experience to dispel this gloom:
By your persuasive wisdom shall the heart
That frets, or languishes, be stilled and cheered.

"Our nature," said the Priest, in mild reply, 485
"Angels may weigh and fathom: they perceive,
With undistempered and unclouded spirit,
The object as it is; but, for ourselves,
That speculative height _we_ may not reach.
The good and evil are our own; and we 490
Are that which we would contemplate from far.
Knowledge, for us, is difficult to gain--
Is difficult to gain, and hard to keep--
As virtue's self; like virtue is beset
With snares; tried, tempted, subject to decay. 495
Love, admiration, fear, desire, and hate,
Blind were we without these; through these alone
Are capable to notice or discern
Or to record; we judge, but cannot be
Indifferent judges. 'Spite of proudest boast, 500
Reason, best reason, is to imperfect man
An effort only, and a noble aim;
A crown, an attribute of sovereign power,
Still to be courted--never to be won.
--Look forth, or each man dive into himself; 505
What sees he but a creature too perturbed;
That is transported to excess; that yearns,
Regrets, or trembles, wrongly, or too much;
Hopes rashly, in disgust as rash recoils;
Battens on spleen, or moulders in despair? 510
Thus comprehension fails, and truth is missed;
Thus darkness[462] and delusion round our path
Spread, from disease, whose subtle injury lurks
Within the very faculty of sight.

"Yet for the general purposes of faith 515
In Providence, for solace and support,
We may not doubt that who can best subject
The will to reason's law, can[463] strictliest live
And act in that obedience, he shall gain
The clearest apprehension of those truths, 520
Which unassisted reason's utmost power
Is too infirm to reach. But, waiving this,
And our regards confining within bounds
Of less exalted consciousness, through which
The very multitude are free to range, 525
We safely may affirm that human life
Is either fair and[464] tempting, a soft scene
Grateful to sight, refreshing to the soul,
Or a forbidden[465] tract of cheerless view;
Even as the same is looked at, or approached. 530
Thus, when in changeful April fields are white
With new-fallen snow, if from the sullen north
Your walk conduct you hither, ere the sun
Hath gained his noontide height, this churchyard, filled
With mounds[466] transversely lying side by side 535
From east to west, before you will appear
An unillumined, blank, and dreary, plain,[467]
With more than wintry cheerlessness and gloom
Saddening the heart. Go forward, and look back;
Look,[468] from the quarter whence the lord of light, 540
Of life, of love, and gladness doth dispense
His beams; which, unexcluded in their fall,
Upon the southern side of every grave
Have gently exercised a melting power;
_Then_ will a vernal prospect greet your eye, 545
All fresh and beautiful, and green and bright,
Hopeful and cheerful:--vanished is the pall
That overspread and chilled the sacred turf,
Vanished or hidden;[469] and the whole domain,
To some, too lightly minded, might appear 550
A meadow carpet for the dancing hours.[GP]
--This contrast, not unsuitable to life,
Is to that other state more apposite,
Death and its two-fold aspect! wintry--one,
Cold, sullen, blank, from hope and joy shut out; 555
The other, which the ray divine hath touched,
Replete with vivid promise, bright as spring."