Wake where they waked, range that in- Honoured by Milton's name. O tempe closure old,

rate Bard!

295 That garden of great intellects, undis- Be it confest that, for the first time, turbed.

Place also by the side of this dark sense

Of noble feeling, that those spiritual

men,

266

Even the great Newton's own ethereal self,

seated

Within thy innocent lodge and oratory,
One of a festive circle, I poured out
Libations, to thy memory drank, till
pride

And gratitude grew dizzy in a brain 300

Seemed humbled in these precincts thence Never excited by the fumes of wine to be

The more endeared. Their several me-
mories here

(Even like their persons in their portraits
clothed
270
With the accustomed garb of daily life)
Put on a lowly and a touching grace
Of more distinct humanity, that left
All genuine admiration unimpaired.

Before that hour, or since. Then, forth

I ran

From the assembly; through a length of
streets,

Ran, ostrich-like, to reach our chapel door
In not a desperate or opprobrious time,
Albeit long after the importunate hell 306
Had stopped, with wearisome Cassandra
voice She was a prop believe her
Mat.
No longer haunting the dark winter night.
Call back, O Friend! a moment to thy
mind,

The place itself and fashion of the rites. 310
With careless ostentation shouldering up
My surplice, through the inferior throng
I clove

Of the plain Burghers, who in audience
stood

On the last skirts of their permitted
ground,
Under the pealing organ.
thoughts!

Empty 315

I am ashamed of them: and that great
Bard,

And thou, O Friend! who in thy ample
mind

Hast placed me high above my best
deserts,

Ye will forgive the weakness of that hour,
In some of its unworthy vanities,
320
Brother to many more.

In this mixed sort The months passed on, remissly, not given up

323

To wilful alienation from the right,
Or walks of open scandal, but in vague
And loose indifference, easy likings, aims
Of a low pitch-duty and zeal dismissed,
Yet Nature, or a happy course of things
Not doing in their stead the needful work.
The memory languidly revolved, the heart

Reposed in noontide rest, the inner pulse
Of contemplation almost failed to beat. 331
Such life might not inaptly be compared
To a floating island, an amphibious spot
Unsound, of spongy texture, yet withal
Not wanting a fair face of water-weeds

To in-door study than was wise or well,
Or suited to those years. Yet I, though
used

In magisterial liberty to rove,
Culling such flowers of learning as might
tempt

370

And pleasant flowers. The thirst of living A random choice, could shadow forth a

praise, 336 Fit reverence for the glorious Dead, the sight

Of those long vistas, sacred catacombs,
Where mighty minds lie visibly entombed,
Have often stirred the heart of youth,
and bred

340

place

(If now I yield not to a flattering dream) Whose studious aspect should have beat

me down

To instantaneous service; should at once
Have made me pay to science and to arts
And written lore, acknowledged my liege
lord,

372

To quit my pleasure, and, from month to The passing day; should learn to put

Be Folly and False-seeming free to affect
Whatever formal gait of discipline
Shall raise them highest in their own
esteem-

In which the heron should delight to feed
By the shy rivers, and the pelican 439
Upon the cypress spire in lonely thought
Might sit and sun himself.-Alas! alas!

Let them parade among the Schools at In vain for such solemnity I looked;

But

will,

spare the House of God. Was ever
known

405 The witless shepherd who persists to drive

A flock that thirsts not to a pool disliked?
A weight must surely hang on days begun
And ended with such mockery. Be wise,
Ye Presidents and Deans, and, till the
spirit
410
Of ancient times revive, and youth be
trained

At home in pious service, to your bells
Give seasonable rest, for 'tis a sound
Hollow as ever vexed the tranquil air;
And your officious doings bring disgrace
On the plain steeples of our English
Church,
416
Whose worship, 'mid remotest village
trees,

Mine eyes were crossed by butterflies,

Suffers for this. Even Science, too, at Trained up through piety and zeal to

But peace to vain regrets! We see but In my own mind remote from social life,

darkly

Even when we look behind us, and best things

480 Are not so pure by nature that they needs Must keep to all, as fondly all believe, Their highest promise. If the mariner, When at reluctant distance he hath passed

Some tempting island, could but know the ills

485 That must have fallen upon him had he brought

(At least from what we commonly so

name,)

Like a lone shepherd on a promontory
Who lacking occupation looks far forth
Into the boundless sea, and rather makes
Than finds what he beholds. And sure
it is,

That this first transit from the smooth
delights

And wild outlandish walks of simple youth

world

To something that resembles an approach His bark to land upon the wished-for Towards human business, to a privileged shore, Good cause would oft be his to thank the Within a world, a midway residence surf With all its intervenient imagery, Whose white belt scared him thence, or Did better suit my visionary mind, Far better, than to have been bolted forth,

wind that blew

Inexorably adverse: for myself

490

I grieve not; happy is the gownèd youth,
Who only misses what I missed, who falls
No lower than I fell.

I did not love,
Judging not ill perhaps, the timid

Thrust out abruptly into Fortune's way
Among the conflicts of substantial life;
By a more just gradation did lead on
To higher things; more naturally
tured,

For permanent possession, better fruits
Whether of truth or virtue, to ensue. 5
In serious mood, but oftener, I confess
With playful zest of fancy, did we note
(How could we less?) the manners and the

And known authority of office served

From these I turned to travel with the To set our minds on edge, and did no