To God, Who thus corrected my desires; And afterwards, the wind and 'sleety rain, And all the business of the elements,
The single sheep, and the one blasted tree, And the bleak music from that old stone wall, The noise of wood and water, and the mist That on the line of each of those two roads Advanced in such indisputable shapes;
All these were kindred spectacles and sounds To which I oft repaired, and thence would drink, As at a fountain; and on winter nights, Down to this very time, when storm and rain Beat on my roof, or, haply, at noon-day, While in a grove I walk, whose lofty trees, Laden with summer's thickest foliage, rock In a strong wind, some working of the spirit, Some inward agitations thence are brought, Whate'er their office, whether to beguile Thoughts over busy in the course they took, Or animate an hour of vacant ease.
IMAGINATION AND TASTE, HOW IMPAIRED AND RESTORED-concluded.
FROM Nature doth emotion come, and moods Of calmness equally are Nature's gift: This is her glory; these two attributes Are sister horns that constitute her strength. Hence Genius, born to thrive by interchange Of peace and excitation, finds in her
His best and purest friend; from her receives That energy by which he seeks the truth, From her that happy stillness of the mind Which fits him to receive it when unsought.
Such benefit the humblest intellects Partake of, each in their degree; 'tis mine To speak, what I myself have known and felt; Smooth task! for words find easy way, inspired By gratitude, and confidence in truth.
Long time in search of knowledge did I range The field of human life, in heart and mind Benighted; but, the dawn beginning now To re-appear, 'twas proved that not in vain I had been taught to reverence a Power That is the visible quality and shape And image of right reason; that matures Her processes by steadfast laws; gives birth To no impatient or fallacious hopes,
No heat of passion or excessive zeal,
No vain conceits; provokes to no quick turns Of self-applauding intellect; but trains To meekness, and exalts by humble faith;
Holds up before the mind intoxicate With present objects, and the busy dance
Of things that pass away, a temperate show Of objects that endure; and by this course Disposes her, when over-fondly set
On throwing off incumbrances, to seek In man, and in the frame of social life, Whate'er there is desirable and good Of kindred permanence, unchanged in form And function, or, through strict vicissitude Of life and death, revolving. Above all Were re-established now those watchful thoughts Which, seeing little worthy or sublime In what the Historian's pen so much delights To blazon-power and energy detached From moral purpose-early tutored me To look with feelings of fraternal love Upon the unassuming things that hold A silent station in this beauteous world.
Thus moderated, thus composed, I found Once more in man an object of delight, Of pure imagination, and of love;
And, as the horizon of my mind enlarged, Again I took the intellectual eye
For my instructor, studious more to see Great truths, than touch and handle little ones. Knowledge was given accordingly; my trust Became more firm in feelings that had stood The test of such a trial; clearer far
My sense of excellence of right and wrong: The promise of the present time retired Into its true proportion; sanguine schemes, Ambitious projects, pleased me less; I sought
For present good in life's familiar face,
And built thereon my hopes of good to come.
With settling judgments now of what would last And what would disappear; prepared to find Presumption, folly, madness, in the men Who thrust themselves upon the passive world As Rulers of the world; to see in these, Even when the public welfare is their aim, Plans without thought, or built on theories Vague and unsound; and having brought the books Of modern statists to their proper test, Life, human life, with all its sacred claims Of sex and age, and heaven-descended rights, Mortal, or those beyond the reach of death; And having thus discerned how dire a thing Is worshipped in that idol proudly named "The Wealth of Nations," where alone that wealth Is lodged, and how increased; and having gained A more judicious knowledge of the worth And dignity of individual man,
No composition of the brain, but man
Of whom we read, the man whom we behold With our own eyes-I could not but inquire- Not with less interest than heretofore,
But greater, though in spirit more subdued— Why is this glorious creature to be found One only in ten thousand? What one is, Why may not millions be? What bars are thrown By Nature in the way of such a hope? Our animal appetites and daily wants, Are these obstructions insurmountable? If not, then others vanish into air. "Inspect the basis of the social pile:
Inquire," said I, "how much of mental power And genuine virtue they possess who live By bodily toil, labour exceeding far Their due proportion, under all the weight Of that injustice which upon ourselves Ourselves entail." Such estimate to frame I chiefly looked (what need to look beyond?) Among the natural abodes of men,
Fields with their rural works; recalled to mind My earliest notices; with these compared The observations made in later youth,
And to that day continued.-For the time Had never been when throes of mighty Nations And the world's tumult unto me could yield, How far soe'er transported and possessed, Full measure of content; but still I craved An intermingling of distinct regards And truths of individual sympathy
Nearer ourselves. Such often might be gleaned From the great City, else it must have proved To me a heart-depressing wilderness; But much was wanting: therefore did I turn To you, ye pathways, and ye lonely roads; Sought you enriched with everything I prized, With human kindnesses and simple joys.
Oh! next to one dear state of bliss, vouchsafed Alas! to few in this untoward world,
The bliss of walking daily in life's prime
Through field or forest with the maid we love,
While yet our hearts are young, while yet we breathe
Nothing but happiness, in some lone nook,
Deep vale, or any where, the home of both,
From which it would be misery to stir:
« AnteriorContinuar » |