THE pensive Sceptic of the lonely Vale
To those acknowledgments subscribed his own,
With a sedate compliance, which the Priest
Failed not to notice, inly pleased, and said,
"If Ye, by whom invited I commenced
These Narratives of calm and humble life,
Be satisfied, 'tis well, the end is gained;
And, in return for sympathy bestowed
And patient listening, thanks accept from me.
Life, Death, Eternity! momentous themes
Are they and might demand a Seraph's tongue,
Were they not equal to their own support;
And therefore no incompetence of mine
Could do them wrong. The universal forms
Of human nature, in a Spot like this,
Present themselves at once to all Men's view:
Ye wished for act and circumstance, that make
The Individual known and understood;
And such as my best judgment could select
From what the place afforded have been given;
Though apprehensions crossed me, in the course
Of this self-pleasing exercise, that Ye
My zeal to his would liken, who unlocks
A Cabinet with gems or pictures stored,
And draws them forth soliciting regard
To this, and this, as worthier than the last,
Till the Spectator, who a while was pleased
More than the Exhibitor himself, becomes
Weary and faint, and longs to be released.
-But let us hence! my Dwelling is in sight,
And there”
At this the Solitary shrunk With backward will; but, wanting not address That inward motion to disguise, he said
To his Compatriot, smiling as he spake;
- "The peaceable Remains of this good Knight Would be disturbed, I fear, with wrathful scorn, If consciousness could reach him where he lies That One, albeit of these degenerate times, Deploring changes past, or dreading change
Foreseen, had dared to couple, even in thought,
The fine Vocation of the sword and lance
With the gross aims and body-bending toil
Of a poor Brotherhood who walk the earth
Pitied, and where they are not known, despised.
-Yet, by the good Knight's leave, the two Estates
Are graced with some resemblance. Errant Those,
Exiles and Wanderers - and the like are These;
Who, with their burthen, traverse hill and dale,
Carrying relief for Nature's simple wants.
What though no higher recompense they seek Than honest maintenance, by irksome toil
Full oft procured, yet Such may claim respect,
Among the Intelligent, for what this course
Enables them to be, and to perform.
Their tardy steps give leisure to observe,
While solitude permits the mind to feel;
Instructs and prompts her to supply defects
By the division of her inward self,
For grateful converse: and to these poor Men
(As I have heard you boast with honest pride)
Nature is bountiful, where'er they go;
Kind Nature's various wealth is all their own.
Versed in the characters of men; and bound,
By tie of daily interest, to maintain
Conciliatory manners and smooth speech;
Such have been, and still are in their degree,
Examples efficacious to refine
Rude intercourse; apt Agents to expel,
By importation of unlooked-for Arts,
Barbarian torpor, and blind prejudice;
Raising, through just gradation, savage life
To rustic, and the rustic to urbane.
- Within their moving magazines is lodged
Power that comes forth to quicken and exalt
Affections seated in the Mother's breast,
And in the Lover's fancy; and to feed
The sober sympathies of long-tried Friends.
- By these Itinerants, as experienced Men,
Counsel is given; contention they appease
With gentle language; in remotest Wilds,
Tears wipe away, and pleasant tidings bring;
Could the proud quest of Chivalry do more?"
"Happy," rejoined the Wanderer, "they who gain A panegyric from your generous tongue! But, if to these Wayfarers once pertained Aught of romantic interest, 'tis gone; Their purer service, in this realm at least, Is past for ever. — An inventive Age
Has wrought, if not with speed of magic, yet
To most strange issues. I have lived to mark
A new and unforeseen Creation rise
From out the labours of a peaceful Land,
Wielding her potent Enginery to frame
And to produce, with appetite as keen
As that of War, which rests not night or day,
Industrious to destroy! With fruitless pains
Might one like me now visit many a tract
Which, in his youth, he trod, and trod again,
A lone Pedestrian with a scanty freight,
Wished for, or welcome, wheresoe'er he came,
Among the Tenantry of Thorpe and Vill;
Or straggling Burgh, of ancient charter proud,
And dignified by battlements and towers
Of some stern Castle, mouldering on the brow
hill or bank of rugged stream.
The foot-path faintly marked, the horse-track wild, And formidable length of plashy lane,
(Prized avenues ere others had been shaped
Or easier links connecting place with place) Have vanished, swallowed up by stately roads Easy and bold, that penetrate the gloom
Of Britain's farthest Glens. The Earth has lent Her waters, Air her breezes; and the Sail
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