Imbued the altar-window; fixed aloft
A faded hatchment hung, and one by time
Yet undiscoloured. A capacious pew
Of sculptured oak stood here, with drapery lined;
And marble monuments were here displayed Thronging the walls; and on the floor beneath Sepulchral stones appeared, with emblems
And foot-worn epitaphs, and some with small And shining effigies of brass inlaid.
The tribute by these various records claimed,
Duly we paid, each after each, and read
The ordinary chronicle of birth,
Office, alliance, and promotion-all
Ending in dust; of upright magistrates,
Grave doctors strenuous for the mother-church,
And uncorrupted senators, alike
To king and people true. A brazen plate,
Not easily deciphered, told of one
Whose course of earthly honour was begun 180
In quality of page among the train
Of the eighth Henry, when he crossed the seas
His royal state to show, and prove his strength
In tournament, upon the fields of France.
Another tablet registered the death,
And praised the gallant bearing, of a Knight
Tried in the sea-fights of the second Charles.
Near this brave Knight his Father lay entombed;
And, to the silent language giving voice,
I read,—how in his manhood's earlier day 190
He, 'mid the afflictions of intestine war
And rightful government subverted, found
One only solace that he had espoused
A virtuous Lady tenderly beloved
For her benign perfections; and yet more 195
Endeared to him, for this, that, in her state
Of wedlock richly crowned with Heaven's regard,
She with a numerous issue filled his house,
Who throve, like plants, uninjured by the
That laid their country waste. No need to speak
Of less particular notices assigned
To Youth or Maiden gone before their time,
And Matrons and unwedded Sisters old;
Whose charity and goodness were rehearsed
In modest panegyric.
What would they tell?" said I,—but, from the task
Of puzzling out that faded narrative,
With whisper soft my venerable Friend
Called me; and, looking down the darksome
aisle,
I saw the Tenant of the lonely vale
Standing apart; with curvèd arm reclined
On the baptismal font; his pallid face
Upturned, as if his mind were rapt, or lost
In some abstraction;-gracefully he stood,
The semblance bearing of a sculptured form 215
That leans upon a monumental urn
In peace, from morn to night, from year to year.
Him from that posture did the Sexton
Who entered, humming carelessly a tune,
Continuation haply of the notes
That had beguiled the work from which he
With spade and mattock o'er his shoulder
To be deposited, for future need,
In their appointed place. The pale Recluse Withdrew; and straight we followed,-to a
Where sun and shade were intermixed; for
A broad oak, stretching forth its leafy arms.
Froin an adjoining pasture, overhung
Small space of that green churchyard with a
And pleasant awning. On the moss-grown wall
My ancient Friend and I together took
Our seats; and thus the Solitary spake,
Standing before us :---
“Did you note the mien Of that self-solaced, easy-hearted churl, Death's hireling, who scoops out his neighbour's
Or wraps an old acquaintance up in clay,
All unconcerned as he would bind a sheaf,
Or plant a tree. And did you hear his voice ?
I was abruptly summoned by the sound.
From some affecting images and thoughts, 240
Which then were silent; but crave utterance
"Much," he continued, with dejected look, Much, yesterday, was said in glowing phrase Of our sublime dependencies, and hopes For future states of being; and the wings 245 Of speculation, joyfully outspread, Hovered above our destiny on earth:
But stoop, and place the prospect of the soul In sober contrast with reality,
And man's substantial life. If this mute earth Of what it holds could speak, and every grave Were as a volume, shut, yet capable
Of yielding its contents to eye and ear,
We should recoil, stricken with sorrow and
To see disclosed, by such dread proof, how ill 255
That which is done accords with what is known
To reason, and by conscience is enjoined;
How idly, how perversely, life's whole course,
To this conclusion, deviates from the line,
Or of the end stops short, proposed to all 260
At her aspiring outset.
Mark the babe
Not long accustomed to this breathing world;
One that hath barely learned to shape a smile,
Though yet irrational of soul, to grasp
With tiny finger-to let fall a tear;
And, as the heavy cloud of sleep dissolves,
To stretch his limbs, bemocking, as might seem,
The outward functions of intelligent man;
A grave proficient in amusive feats
Of puppetry, that from the lap declare
His expectations, and announce his claims
To that inheritance which millions rue
That they were ever born to! In due time
A day of solemn ceremonial comes;
When they, who for this Minor hold in trust 275
Rights that transcend the loftiest heritage
Of mere humanity, present their Charge,
For this occasion daintily adorned,
At the baptismal font. And when the
And consecrating element hath cleansed
The original stain, the child is there received
Into the second ark, Christ's church, with trust
That he, from wrath redeemed, therein shall
Over the billows of this troublesome world
To the fair land of everlasting life.
Corrupt affections, covetous desires,
Are all renounced; high as the thought of man
Can carry virtue, virtue is professed
A dedication made, a promise given
For due provision to control and guide,
And unremitting progress to ensure
In holiness and truth."
Here interposing fervently I said,
"Rites which attest that Man by nature lies
Bedded for good and evil in a gulf
Fearfully low; nor will your judgment scorn
Those services, whereby attempt is made
To lift the creature toward that eminence
On which, now fallen, erewhile in majesty
He stood; or if not so, whose top serene
At least he feels 'tis given him to descry;
Not without aspirations, evermore
Returning, and injunctions from within
Doubt to cast off and weariness; in trust
That what the Soul perceives, if glory lost, 305
May be, through pains and persevering hope,
Recovered; or, if hitherto unknown,
Lies within reach, and one day shall be gained."
“I blame them not," he calmly answered
The outward ritual and established forms
With which communities of men invest
These inward feelings, and the aspiring vows.
To which the lips give public utterance
Are both a natural process; and by me
Shall pass uncensured; though the issue prove,
Bringing from age to age its own reproach, 316
Incongruous, impotent, and blank. But, oh!
If to be weak is to be wretched-miserable,
As the lost Angel by a human voice
Hath mournfully pronounced, then, in my mind,
Far better not to move at all than move
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