Fronting the window of that little cell,
I could not, ever and anon, forbear
To glance an upward look on two huge Peaks, That from some other vale peered into this. "Those lusty twins," exclaimed our host, "if here It were your lot to dwell, would soon become Your prized companions.-Many are the notes Which, in his tuneful course, the wind draws forth From rocks, woods, caverns, heaths, and dashing shores;
And well those lofty brethren bear their part In the wild concert-chiefly when the storm Rides high; then all the upper air they fill With roaring sound, that ceases not to flow, Like smoke, along the level of the blast, In mighty current; theirs, too, is the song Of stream and headlong flood that seldom fails; And, in the grim and breathless hour of noon, Methinks that I have heard them echo back The thunder's greeting. Nor have nature's laws Left them ungifted with a power to yield Music of finer tone; a harmony,
So do I call it, though it be the hand
Of silence, though there be no voice ;-the clouds, The mist, the shadows, light of golden suns, Motions of moonlight, all come thither-touch, And have an answer-thither come, and shape A language not unwelcome to sick hearts And idle spirits :-there the sun himself, At the calm close of summer's longest day, Rests his substantial orb ;-between those heights And on the top of either pinnacle,
More keenly than elsewhere in night's blue vault, Sparkle the stars, as of their station proud. Thoughts are not busier in the mind of man Than the mute agents stirring there :-alone Here do I sit and watch.-"
The Housewife, tempted by such slender gains As might from that occasion be distilled, Opened, as she before had done for me, Her doors to admit this homeless Pensioner; The portion gave of coarse but wholesome fare Which appetite required-a blind dull nook, Such as she had, the kennel of his rest! This, in itself not ill, would yet have been Ill borne in earlier life; but his was now The still contentedness of seventy years. Calm did he sit under the wide-spread tree Of his old age; and yet less calm and meck, Winningly meek or venerably calm, Than slow and torpid; paying in this wise A penalty, if penalty it were,
For spendthrift feats, excesses of his prime. I loved the old Man, for I pitied him!
A task it was, I own, to hold discourse With one so slow in gathering up his thoughts, But he was a cheap pleasure to my eyes; Mild, inoffensive, ready in his way,
And helpful to his utmost power: and there Our housewife knew full well what she possessed!
He was her vassal of all labour, tilled Her garden, from the pasture fetched her kine; And, one among the orderly array
Of hay-makers, beneath the burning sun Maintained his place; or heedfully pursued His course, on errands bound, to other vales, Leading sometimes an inexperienced child Too young for any profitable task.
So moved he like a shadow that performed Substantial service. Mark me now, and learn For what reward!-The moon her monthly round Hath not completed since our dame, the queen Of this one cottage and this lonely dale, Into my little sanctuary rushed- Voice to a rueful treble humanized, And features in deplorable dismay.
A fall of voice, Regretted like the nightingale's last note, Had scarcely closed this high-wrought strain of I treat the matter lightly, but, alas!
Ere with inviting smile the Wanderer said: "Now for the tale with which you threatened us!" "In truth the threat escaped me unawares: Should the tale tire you, let this challenge stand For my excuse. Dissevered from mankind, As to your eyes and thoughts we must have seemed When ye looked down upon us from the crag, Islanders mid a stormy mountain sea, We are not so ;-perpetually we touch Upon the vulgar ordinances of the world; And he, whom this our cottage hath to-day Relinquished, lived dependent for his bread Upon the laws of public charity.
It is most serious: persevering rain Had fallen in torrents; all the mountain tops Were hidden, and black vapours coursed their sides; This had I seen, and saw; but, till she spake, Was wholly ignorant that my ancient Friend- Who at her bidding, early and alone, Had clomb aloft to delve the moorland turf For winter fuel-to his noontide meal Returned not, and now, haply, on the heights Lay at the mercy of this raging storm. 'Inhuman!'-said I, 'was an old Man's life Not worth the trouble of a thought?—alas! This notice comes too late.' With joy I saw Her husband enter-from a distant vale.
We sallied forth together; found the tools Which the neglected veteran had dropped, But through all quarters looked for him in vain. We shouted-but no answer! Darkness fell Without remission of the blast or shower, And fears for our own safety drove us home.
1, who weep little, did, I will confess, The moment I was seated here alone, Honour my little cell with some few tears Which anger and resentment could not dry. All night the storm endured; and, soon as help Had been collected from the neighbouring vale, With morning we renewed our quest: the wind Was fallen, the rain abated, but the hills Lay shrouded in impenetrable mist; And long and hopelessly we sought in vain : "Till, chancing on that lofty ridge to pass A heap of ruin-almost without walls
And wholly without roof (the bleached remains Of a small chapel, where, in ancient time, The peasants of these lonely valleys used To meet for worship on that central height)—— We there espied the object of our search, Lying full three parts buried among tufts Of heath-plant, under and above him strewn, To baffle, as he might, the watery storm: And there we found him breathing peaceably, Snug as a child that hides itself in sport 'Mid a green hay-cock in a sunny field. We spake he made reply, but would not stir At our entreaty; less from want of power Than apprehension and bewildering thoughts.
So was he lifted gently from the ground, And with their freight homeward the shepherds moved
Through the dull mist, I following-when a step, A single step, that freed me from the skirts Of the blind vapour, opened to my view Glory beyond all glory ever seen
By waking sense or by the dreaming soul! The appearance, instantaneously disclosed, Was of a mighty city-boldly say A wilderness of building, sinking far And self-withdrawn into a boundless depth, Far sinking into splendor-without end! Fabric it seemed of diamond and of gold, With alabaster domes, and silver spires, And blazing terrace upon terrace, high Uplifted; here, serene pavilions bright, In avenues disposed; there, towers begirt With battlements that on their restless fronts Bore stars-illumination of all gems!
By earthly nature had the effect been wrought Upon the dark materials of the storm Now pacified; on them, and on the coves And mountain-steeps and summits, whereunto The vapours had receded, taking there Their station under a cerulean sky. Oh, 'twas an unimaginable sight!
Clouds, mists, streams, watery rocks and emerald turf,
Clouds of all tincture, rocks and sapphire sky, Confused, commingled, mutually inflamed, Molten together, and composing thus, Each lost in each, that marvellous array Of temple, palace, citadel, and huge Fantastic pomp of structure without name, In fleecy folds voluminous, enwrapped. Right in the midst, where interspace appeared Of open court, an object like a throne Under a shining canopy of state Stood fixed; and fixed resemblances were seen To implements of ordinary use,
But vast in size, in substance glorified; Such as by Hebrew Prophets were beheld In vision-forms uncouth of mightiest power For admiration and mysterious awe. This little Vale, a dwelling-place of Man, Lay low beneath my feet; 'twas visible— I saw not, but I felt that it was there. That which I saw was the revealed abode Of Spirits in beatitude: my heart Swelled in my breast.-'I have been dead,' I
"And now I live! Oh! wherefore do I live?' And with that pang I prayed to be no more! -But I forget our Charge, as utterly
I then forgot him:-there I stood and gazed: The apparition faded not away, And I descended.
Having reached the house, I found its rescued inmate safely lodged, And in serene possession of himself, Beside a fire whose genial warmth seemed met By a faint shining from the heart, a gleam Of comfort, spread over his pallid face. Great show of joy the housewife made, and truly Was glad to find her conscience set at ease; And not less glad, for sake of her good name, That the poor Sufferer had escaped with life. But, though he seemed at first to have received No harm, and uncomplaining as before Went through his usual tasks, a silent change Soon showed itself: he lingered three short
And from the cottage hath been borne to-day.
So ends my dolorous tale, and glad I am That it is ended." At these words he turnedAnd, with blithe air of open fellowship, Brought from the cupboard wine and stouter cheer, Like one who would be merry. Seeing this,
My grey-haired Friend said courteously-" Nay, nay,
You have regaled us as a hermit ought; Now let us forth into the sun!”—Our Host Rose, though reluctantly, and forth we went.
Images in the Valley.-Another Recess in it entered and described.-Wanderer's sensations.-Solitary's excited by the same objects.-Contrast between these.-Despondency of the Solitary gently reproved.-Conversation exhibiting the Solitary's past and present opinions and feelings, till he enters upon his own History at length. His domestic felicity-Afflictions.-Dejection. -Roused by the French Revolution.-Disappointment and disgust.-Voyage to America.-Disappointment and disgust pursue him.-His return.-His languor and depression of mind, from want of faith in the great truths of Religion, and want of confidence in the virtue of Mankind.
A HUMMING BEE—a little tinkling rill— A pair of falcons wheeling on the wing, In clamorous agitation, round the crest Of a tall rock, their airy citadel—
By each and all of these the pensive ear Was greeted, in the silence that ensued, When through the cottage-threshold we had passed, And, deep within that lonesome valley, stood Once more beneath the concave of a blue And cloudless sky.-Anon exclaimed our Host, Triumphantly dispersing with the taunt The shade of discontent which on his brow Had gathered, "Ye have left my cell,--but see How Nature hems you in with friendly arms! And by her help ye are my prisoners still. But which way shall I lead you?—how contrive, In spot so parsimoniously endowed,
That the brief hours, which yet remain, may reap Some recompense of knowledge or delight?" So saying, round he looked, as if perplexed; And, to remove those doubts, my grey-haired Friend
Said "Shall we take this pathway for our guide?— Upward it winds, as if, in summer heats, Its line had first been fashioned by the flock Seeking a place of refuge at the root
Of yon black Yew-tree, whose protruded boughs Darken the silver bosom of the crag,
From which she draws her meagre sustenance. There in commodious shelter may we rest. Or let us trace this streamlet to its source; Feebly it tinkles with an earthy sound, And a few steps may bring us to the spot [herbs, Where, haply, crowned with flowerets and green The mountain infant to the sun comes forth, Like human life from darkness."—A quick turn Through a strait passage of encumbered ground, Proved that such hope was vain :-for now we stood Shut out from prospect of the open vale, And saw the water, that composed this rill, Descending, disembodied, and diffused O'er the smooth surface of an ample crag, Lofty, and steep, and naked as a tower.
All further progress here was barred ;-And who, Thought I, if master of a vacant hour, Here would not linger, willingly detained? Whether to such wild objects he were led When copious rains have magnified the stream Into a loud and white-robed waterfall, Or introduced at this more quiet time.
Upon a semicirque of turf-clad ground, The hidden nook discovered to our view A mass of rock, resembling, as it lay Right at the foot of that moist precipice, A stranded ship, with keel upturned, that rests Fearless of winds and waves. Three several stones Stood near, of smaller size, and not unlike To monumental pillars: and, from these Some little space disjoined, a pair were seen, That with united shoulders bore aloft A fragment, like an altar, flat and smooth: Barren the tablet, yet thereon appeared A tall and shining holly, that had found A hospitable chink, and stood upright, As if inserted by some human hand In mockery, to wither in the sun, Or lay its beauty flat before a breeze,
The first that entered. But no breeze did now Find entrance;-high or low appeared no trace
Of motion, save the water that descended, Diffused adown that barrier of steep rock, And softly creeping, like a breath of air, Such as is sometimes seen, and hardly seen, To brush the still breast of a crystal lake.
"Behold a cabinet for sages built, Which kings might envy!"-Praise to this effect Broke from the happy old Man's reverend lip; Who to the Solitary turned, and said, "In sooth, with love's familiar privilege, You have decried the wealth which is your own. Among these rocks and stones, methinks, I see More than the heedless impress that belongs To lonely nature's casual work: they bear A semblance strange of power intelligent, And of design not wholly worn away. Boldest of plants that ever faced the wind, How gracefully that slender shrub looks forth From its fantastic birth-place! And I own, Some shadowy intimations haunt me here, That in these shows a chronicle survives Of purposes akin to those of Man,
But wrought with mightier arm than now prevails. -Voiceless the stream descends into the gulf With timid lapse;-and lo! while in this strait I stand-the chasm of sky above my head Is heaven's profoundest azure; no domain For fickle, short-lived clouds to occupy, Or to pass through; but rather an abyss In which the everlasting stars abide ;
If from my poor retirement ye had gone Leaving this nook unvisited: but, in sooth, Your unexpected presence had so roused My spirits, that they were bent on enterprise; And, like an ardent hunter, I forgot,
Or, shall I say?-disdained, the game that lurks At my own door. The shapes before our eyes And their arrangement, doubtless must be deemed The sport of Nature, aided by blind Chance Rudely to mock the works of toiling Man. And hence, this upright shaft of unhewn stone, From Fancy, willing to set off her stores By sounding titles, hath acquired the name Of Pompey's pillar; that I gravely style My Theban obelisk; and, there, behold A Druid cromlech !-thus I entertain The antiquarian humour, and am pleased To skim along the surfaces of things, Beguiling harmlessly the listless hours. But if the spirit be oppressed by sense Of instability, revolt, decay,
And change, and emptiness, these freaks of Nature And her blind helper Chance, do then suffice
To quicken, and to aggravate-to feed Pity and scorn, and melancholy pride,
Not less than that huge Pile (from some abyss Of mortal power unquestionably sprung) Whose hoary diadem of pendent rocks
Confines the shrill-voiced whirlwind, round and round
Eddying within its vast circumference,
And whose soft gloom, and boundless depth, might On Sarum's naked plain-than pyramid
The curious eye to look for them by day. -Hail Contemplation! from the stately towers, Reared by the industrious hand of human art To lift thee high above the misty air And turbulence of murmuring cities vast; From academic groves, that have for thee Been planted, hither come and find a lodge To which thou mayst resort for holier peace,- From whose calm centre thou, through height or
Of Egypt, unsubverted, undissolved- Or Syria's marble ruins towering high Above the sandy desert, in the light Of sun or moon.-Forgive me, if I say
That an appearance which hath raised your minds To an exalted pitch (the self-same cause Different effect producing) is for me Fraught rather with depression than delight, Though shame it were, could I not look around, By the reflection of your pleasure, pleased. Yet happier in my judgment, even than you With your bright transports fairly may be deemed, The wandering Herbalist,-who, clear alike From vain, and, that worse evil, vexing thoughts, Casts, if he ever chance to enter here, Upon these uncouth Forms a slight regard Of transitory interest, and peeps round For some rare floweret of the hills, or plant Of craggy fountain; what he hopes for wins, Or learns, at least, that 'tis not to be won: "I should have grieved❘ Then, keen and eager, as a fine-nosed hound By soul-engrossing instinct driven along
Mayst penetrate, wherever truth shall lead; Measuring through all degrees, until the scale Of time and conscious nature disappear, Lost in unsearchable eternity!"
A pause ensued; and with minuter care We scanned the various features of the scene: And soon the Tenant of that lonely vale With courteous voice thus spake
Hereafter, not escaping self-reproach,
Through wood or open field, the harmless Man Departs, intent upon his onward quest!— Nor is that Fellow-wanderer, so deem I, Less to be envied, (you may trace him oft By scars which his activity has left
Beside our roads and pathways, though, thank Heaven!
This covert nook reports not of his hand)
He who with pocket-hammer smites the edge Of luckless rock or prominent stone, disguised In weather-stains or crusted o'er by Nature With her first growths, detaching by the stroke A chip or splinter-to resolve his doubts; And, with that ready answer satisfied, The substance classes by some barbarous name, And hurries on; or from the fragments picks His specimen, if but haply interveined With sparkling mineral, or should crystal cube Lurk in its cells-and thinks himself enriched, Wealthier, and doubtless wiser, than before! Intrusted safely each to his pursuit, Earnest alike, let both from hill to hill
Range; if it please them, speed from clime to clime; The mind is full-and free from pain their pastime."
"Then," said I, interposing, "One is near, Who cannot but possess in your esteem Place worthier still of envy. May I name, Without offence, that fair-faced cottage-boy? Dame Nature's pupil of the lowest form, Youngest apprentice in the school of art! Him, as we entered from the open glen, You might have noticed, busily engaged, Heart, soul, and hands,-in mending the defects Left in the fabric of a leaky dam Raised for enabling this penurious stream To turn a slender mill (that new-made plaything) For his delight-the happiest he of all!"
"Far happiest," answered the desponding Man, "If, such as now he is, he might remain ! Ah! what avails imagination high
Or question deep? what profits all that earth, Or heaven's blue vault, is suffered to put forth Of impulse or allurement, for the Soul To quit the beaten track of life, and soar Far as she finds a yielding element In past or future; far as she can go Through time or space-if neither in the one, Nor in the other region, nor in aught That Fancy, dreaming o'er the map of things, Hath placed beyond these penetrable bounds, Words of assurance can be heard; if nowhere A habitation, for consummate good,
Here are we, in a bright and breathing world. Our origin, what matters it? In lack Of worthier explanation, say at once With the American (a thought which suits
The place where now we stand) that certain men Leapt out together from a rocky cave; And these were the first parents of mankind: Or, if a different image be recalled By the warm sunshine, and the jocund voice Of insects chirping out their careless lives On these soft beds of thyme-besprinkled turf, Choose, with the gay Athenian, a conceit
As sound-blithe race! whose mantles were be
With golden grasshoppers, in sign that they Had sprung, like those bright creatures, from the soil
Whereon their endless generations dwelt. But stop!-these theoretic fancies jar On serious minds: then, as the Hindoos draw Their holy Ganges from a skiey fount, Even so deduce the stream of human life From seats of power divine; and hope, or trust, That our existence winds her stately course Beneath the sun, like Ganges, to make part Of a living ocean; or, to sink engulfed, Like Niger, in impenetrable sands
And utter darkness: thought which may be faced, Though comfortless!—
Not of myself I speak; Such acquiescence neither doth imply, In me, a meekly-bending spirit soothed By natural piety; nor a lofty mind, By philosophic discipline prepared For calm subjection to acknowledged law; Pleased to have been, contented not to be.
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