Whate'er the minister's old shelf sup- Nor any voice of joy; his spirit drank plied; The life and death of martyrs, who All melted into him; they swallowed up

Sharp-kneed, sharp-elbowed, and lean- That made him; it was blessedness and

Such was the Boy-but for the growing Seemed infinite; and there his spirit Youth

What soul was his, when, from the naked Her prospects, nor did he believe, he saw.

While at the stall he read. Among the Of his own mind; by mystery and hope,

These occupations oftentimes deceived The listless hours, while in the hollow vale,

Hollow and green, he lay on the green
turf
260

In pensive idleness. What could he do,
Thus daily thirsting, in that lonesome life,
With blind endeavours? Yet, still upper-
most,

Nature was at his heart as if he felt,
Though yet he knew not how, a wasting

power

265 In all things that from her sweet influence Might tend to wean him. Therefore with her hues,

In dreams, in study, and in ardent thought,

Thus was he reared; much wanting to assist

The growth of intellect, yet gaining more,

Her forms, and with the spirit of her And every moral feeling of his soul

forms,

He clothed the nakedness of austere truth.
While yet he lingered in the rudiments
Of science, and among her simplest laws,
His triangles-they were the stars of
heaven,

Strengthened and braced, by breathing in

content

305 The keen, the wholesome, air of poverty, And drinking from the well of homely life. But, from past liberty, and tried restraints,

The silent stars! Oft did he take delight He now was summoned to select the To measure the altitude of some tall crag

course

309

Of humble industry that promised best
To yield him no unworthy maintenance.
Urged by his Mother, he essayed to teach
A village-school-but wandering thoughts
were then

A misery to him; and the Youth resigned
A task he was unable to perform.
315

Their passions and their feelings; chiefly
those

Essential and eternal in the heart,
That, 'mid the simpler forms of rural life,
Exist more simple in their elements, 346
And speak a plainer language. In the
woods,

A lone Enthusiast, and among the fields,

That stern yet kindly Spirit, who con- Itinerant in this labour, he had passed

strains

The Savoyard to quit his naked rocks, The freeborn Swiss to leave his narrow vales,

(Spirit attached to regions mountainous Like their own steadfast clouds) did now impel 320

His restless mind to look abroad with
hope.

-An irksome drudgery seems it to plod on,
Through hot and dusty ways, or pelting

storm,

A vagrant Merchant under a heavy load Bent as he moves, and needing frequent rest;

325 Yet do such travellers find their own delight;

The better portion of his time; and there
Spontaneously had his affections thriven
Amid the bounties of the year, the peace
And liberty of nature; there he kept
In solitude and solitary thought
His mind in a just equipoise of love. 355
Serene it was, unclouded by the cares
Of ordinary life; unvexed, unwarped
By partial bondage. In his steady course,
No piteous revolutions had he felt,
No wild varieties of joy and grief.
Unoccupied by sorrow of its own,
His heart lay open; and, by nature tuned
And constant disposition of his thoughts
To sympathy with man, he was alive
To all that was enjoyed where'er he
went,
365

360

And their hard service, deemed debasing And all that was endured; for, in himself

Not ignorant was the Youth that still no And in the wisdom of our daily life.

few

Of his adventurous countrymen were led
By perseverance in this track of life 335
To competence and ease:-to him it offered
Attractions manifold;-and this he chose.
-His Parents on the enterprise bestowed
Their farewell benediction, but with hearts
Foreboding evil. From his native hills
He wandered far; much did he see of
men 1,

Their manners, their enjoyments, and
pursuits,
342

1 See Note, p. 926.

For hence, minutely, in his various rounds,
He had observed the progress and decay
Of many minds, of minds and bodies too;
The history of many families;
How they had prospered; how they were
o'erthrown

By passion or mischance, or such misrule
Among the unthinking masters of the
earth
380

As makes the nations groan.

This active course He followed till provision for his wants Had been obtained; the Wanderer then resolved

To pass the remnant of his days, untasked
With needless services, from hardship
free.
385

His calling laid aside, he lived at ease:
But still he loved to pace the public roads
And the wild paths; and, by the sum-
mer's warmth

Invited, often would he leave his home
And journey far, revisiting the scenes 390
That to his memory were most endeared.
-Vigorous in health, of hopeful spirits,
undamped

By worldly-mindedness or anxious care;
Observant, studious, thoughtful, and re-
freshed

By knowledge gathered up from day to day;

395 Thus had he lived a long and innocent life.

Such as might suit a rustic Sire, prepared
For sabbath duties; yet he was a man
Whom no one could have passed without
remark.

Active and nervous was his gait; his
limbs

And his whole figure breathed intelligence. 425

Time had compressed the freshness of his
cheek

Into a narrower circle of deep red,
But had not tamed his eye; that, under
brows

Shaggy and grey, had meanings which it
brought

From years of youth; which, like a Being made

430 Of many Beings, he had wondrous skill To blend with knowledge of the years to

come,

The Scottish Church, both on himself Human, or such as lie beyond the grave.

434 Who now, with no appendage but a staff, The prized memorial of relinquished toils, Upon that cottage-bench reposed his limbs,

Screened from the sun. Supine the Wan-
derer lay,

His eyes as if in drowsiness half shut,
The shadows of the breezy elms above
Dappling his face. He had not heard the
sound

441

By his habitual wanderings out of doors,
By loneliness, and goodness, and kind
works,
405
Whate'er, in docile childhood or in youth,
He had imbibed of fear or darker thought
Was melted all away; so true was this,
That sometimes his religion seemed to me
Self-taught, as of a dreamer in the woods;
Who to the model of his own pure heart
Shaped his belief, as grace divine inspired, At length I hailed him, seeing that his
And human reason dictated with awe.
-And surely never did there live on earth
A man of kindlier nature. The rough
sports

415

And teasing ways of children vexed not

him;

Indulgent listener was he to the tongue
Of garrulous age; nor did the sick man's
tale,

To his fraternal sympathy addressed,
Obtain reluctant hearing.

Plain his garb; 420

Of my approaching steps, and in the shade Unnoticed did I stand some minutes' space.

hat

Was moist with water-drops, as if the brim

445

Had newly scooped a running stream. He

rose,

And ere our lively greeting into peace
Had settled, ""Tis," said I, "a burning

day:

My lips are parched with thirst, but you, it seems,

Have somewhere found relief." He, at the word, 450

Pointing towards a sweet-briar, bade me More tranquil, yet perhaps of kindred climb

The fence where that aspiring shrub look- That steal upon the meditative mind,

Or currants, hanging from their leafless Dislodged the natural sleep that binds

Shrouded with willow-flowers and plumy To the soft handling of the elements: 495 There let it lie-how foolish are such thoughts!

Approach this door but she who dwelt within

465 A daughter's welcome gave me, and I loved her

Things which you cannot see: we die, my Hath blessed poor Margaret for her genFriend,

Nor we alone, but that which each man When she upheld the cool refreshment loved

Obedient to the strong creative power 480 Of virtues bloomed beneath this lowly