In one of those excursions (may they ne'er Fade from remembrance!) through the Northern
Of Cambria ranging with a youthful friend, I left Bethgelert's huts at couching-time, And westward took my way, to see the sun Rise from the top of Snowdon. To the door Of a rude cottage at the mountain's base
We came, and roused the shepherd who attends The adventurous stranger's steps, a trusty guide; Then, cheered by short refreshment, sallied forth.
It was a close, warm, breezeless summer night, Wan, dull, and glaring, with a dripping fog Low-hung and thick that covered all the sky; But, undiscouraged, we began to climb
The mountain-side. The mist soon girt us round, And, after ordinary travellers' talk
With our conductor, pensively we sank
Each into commerce with his private thoughts:
Thus did we breast the ascent, and by myself Was nothing either seen or heard that checked Those musings or diverted, save that once The shepherd's lurcher, who, among the crags, Had to his joy unearthed a hedgehog, teased His coiled-up prey with barkings turbulent. This small adventure, for even such it seemed In that wild place and at the dead of night Being over and forgotten, on we wound In silence as before. With forehead bent Earthward, as in opposition set Against an enemy, I panted up
With eager pace, and no less eager thoughts Thus might we wear a midnight hour away, Ascending at loose distance each from each, And I, as chanced, the foremost of the band; When at my feet the ground appeared to brighten, And with a step or two seemed brighter still: Nor was time given to ask or learn the cause, For instantly a light upon the turf
Fell like a flash, and lo! as I looked up, The Moon hung naked in a firmament Of azure without cloud, and at my feet Rested a silent sea of hoary mist.
A hundred hills their dusky backs upheaved All over this still ocean; and beyond, Far, far beyond, the solid vapors stretched, In headlands, tongues, and promontory shapes, Into the main Atlantic, that appeared To dwindle, and give up his majesty,
Usurped upon far as the sight could reach.. Not so the ethereal vault; encroachment none Was there, nor loss; only the inferior stars Had disappeared, or shed a fainter light In the clear presence of the full-orbed Moon, Who, from her sovereign elevation, gazed Upon the billowy ocean, as it lay
All meek and silent, save that through a rift Not distant from the shore whereon we stood, A fixed, abysmal, gloomy breathing-place- Mounted the roar of waters, torrents, streams Innumerable, roaring with one voice!
Heard over earth and sea, and, in that hour, For so it seemed, felt by the starry heavens.
When into air had partially dissolved That vision, given to spirits of the night
And three chance human wanderers, in calm
Reflected, it appeared to me the type Of a majestic intellect, its acts
And its possessions, what it has and craves, What in itself it is, and would become. There I beheld the emblem of a mind That feeds upon infinity, that broods Over the dark abyss, intent to hear Its voices issuing forth to silent light In one continuous stream; a mind sustained By recognitions of transcendent power, in sense conducting to ideal form
In soul of more than mortal privilege. One function, above all, of such a mind Had nature shadowed there, by putting forth, 'Mid circumstances awful and sublime, That mutual domination which she loves To exert upon the face of outward things, So moulded, joined, abstracted, so endowed With interchangeable supremacy,
That men, least sensitive, see, hear, perceive, And cannot choose but feel. The power which all Acknowledge when thus moved, which Nature thus To bodily sense exhibits, is the express Resemblance of that glorious faculty
That higher minds bear with them as their own. This is the very spirit in which they deal With the whole compass of the universe: They from their native selves can send abroad Kindred mutations; for themselves create A like existence; and, whene'er it dawns Created for them, catch it, or are caught By its inevitable mastery,
Like angels stopped upon the wing by sound Of harmony from Heaven's remotest spheres. Them the enduring and the transient both Serve to exalt; they build up greatest things From least suggestions; ever on the watch, Willing to work and to be wrought upon, They need not extraordinary calls To rouse them; in a world of life they live, By sensible impressions not enthralled,
But by their quickening impulse made more prompt To hold fit converse with the spiritual world, And with the generations of mankind
Spread over time, past, present, and to come, Age after age, till Time shall be no more. Such minds are truly from the Deity,
For they are Powers; and hence the highest blisz That flesh can know is theirs, - the consciousness Of Whom they are, habitually infused
Through every image and through every thought, And all affections by communion raised
From earth to heaven, from human to divine; Hence endless occupation for the Soul,
Whether discursive or intuitive;
Hence cheerfulness for acts of daily life, Emotions which best foresight need not fear, Most worthy then of trust when most intense. Hence, amid ills that vex and wrongs that crush Our hearts, if here the words of Holy Writ May with fit reverence be applied,
that peace Which passeth understanding, that repose
In moral judgments which from this pure source Must come, or will by man be sought in vain.
Oh! who is he that hath his whole life long Preserved, enlarged, this freedom in himself? For this alone is genuine liberty:
Where is the favored being who hath held That course unchecked, unerring, and untired, In one perpetual progress smooth and bright?
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