Awhile within the shadow of this hill,
This friendly hill a shelter from thy beams!
Such is the summer pilgrim's frequent wish;
And as that wish, with prevalence of thanks
For present good o'er fear of future ill,
Stole in among the morning's blither thoughts,
'Twas chased away: for, toward the western side
Of the broad vale, casting a casual glance,
We saw a throng of people;-wherefore met?
Blithe notes of music, suddenly let loose
On the thrilled ear, did to the question yield
Prompt answer; they proclaim the annual Wake,
Which the bright season favours.-Tabor and pipe
In purpose join to hasten and reprove
The laggard Rustic; and repay with boons
Of merriment a party-coloured knot,
Already formed upon the village-green.
-Beyond the limits of the shadow cast
By the broad hill, glistened upon our sight
That gay assemblage. Round them and above,
Glitter, with dark recesses interposed,
Casement, and cottage-roof, and stems of trees
Half-veiled in vapoury cloud, the silver steam
Of dews fast melting on their leafy boughs
By the strong sunbeams smitten. Like a mast
Of gold, the Maypole shines; as if the rays
Of morning, aided by exhaling dew,
With gladsome influence could reanimate
The faded garlands dangling from its sides.
Said I, "The music and the sprightly scene
Invite us; shall we quit our road, and join
These festive matins ?"-He replied, "Not loth
Here would I linger, and with you partake,
Not one hour merely, but till evening's close,
The simple pastimes of the day and place.
By the fleet Racers, ere the sun be set,
The turf of yon large pasture will be skimmed;
There, too, the lusty Wrestlers will contend:
But know we not that he, who intermits
The appointed task and duties of the day,
Untunes full oft the pleasures of the day;
Checking the finer spirits that refuse
To flow, when purposes are lightly changed?
We must proceed: A length of journey yet
Remains untraced." Then pointing with the staff
Towards these craggy summits, his intent
He thus imparted :-
"In a spot that lies
Among yon mountain fastnesses concealed,
You will receive, before the hour of noon,
Good recompense, I hope, for this day's toil,
From sight of One who lives secluded there,
Lonesome and lost: of whom, and whose past life,
(Not to forestall such knowledge as may be
More faithfully collected from himself)
This brief communication shall suffice.
Though now sojourning there, he, like yourself,
Sprang from the stock of lowly parentage
Among the wilds of Scotland, in a tract
Where many a sheltered and well tended plant,
Upon the humblest ground of social life,
Doth at this day I trust the blossoms bear
Of piety and simple innocence.
Such grateful promises his youth displayed:
And, as he showed in study forward zeal,
All helps were sought, all measures strained, that he,
By due scholastic discipline prepared,
Might to the Ministry be called; which done,
Partly through lack of better hopes-and part
Perhaps incited by a curious mind,
In early life he undertook the charge
Of Chaplain to the military troop
Cheered by the Highland bagpipe, as they marched
In plaided vest,-his fellow-countrymen.
This office filling, and by native power,
And force of native inclination made
An intellectual ruler in the haunts
Of social vanity, he walked the world,
Gay, and affecting graceful gaiety;
Lax, buoyant-less a pastor with his flock
Than a soldier among soldiers-lived and roamed
Where Fortune led :-and Fortune, who oft proves
The careless wanderer's friend, to him made known
A blooming Lady-a conspicuous flower,
Admired for beauty, for her sweetness praised;
Whom he had sensibility to love,
Ambition to attempt, and skill to win.
For this fair Bride, most rich in gifts of mind, Not sparingly endowed with worldly wealth, His office he relinquished; and retired From the world's notice to a rural home. Youth's season yet with him was scarcely past, And she was in youth's prime. How full their joy, How free their love! Till, pitiable doom! In the short course of one undreaded year, Death blasted all. Death suddenly o'erthrew Two lovely Children-all that they possessed! The Mother followed:-miserably bare The one Survivor stood; he wept, he prayed For his dismissal, day and night, compelled By pain to turn his thoughts toward the grave, And face the regions of eternity. An uncomplaining apathy displaced
This anguish; and, indifferent to delight,
To aim and purpose, he consumed his days,
To private interest dead, and public care.
So lived he; so he might have died.
To the wide world's astonishment, appeared
A glorious opening, the unlooked-for dawn,
That promised everlasting joy to France!
The voice of social transport reached even him!
He broke from his contracted bounds, repaired
To the great City, an emporium then
Of golden expectations, and receiving
Freights every day from a new world of hope.
Thither his popular talents he transferred;
And, from the pulpit, zealously maintained
The cause of Christ and civil liberty,
As one, and moving to one glorious end.
Intoxicating service! I might say
A happy service; for he was sincere
As vanity and fondness for applause,
And new and shapeless wishes, would allow.
That righteous cause of freedom did, we know,
Combine for one hostility, as friends,
Ethereal natures and the worst of slaves;
Was served by rival advocates that came
From regions opposite as heaven and hell.
One courage seemed to animate them all:
And, from the dazzling conquests daily gained
By their united efforts, there arose
A proud and most presumptuous confidence
In the transcendant wisdom of the age,
And its discernment; not alone in rights,
And in the origin and bounds of power
Social and temporal; but in laws divine,
Deduced by reason, or to faith revealed,
An overweening trust was raised; and fear
Cast out, alike of person and of thing.
Plague from this union spread, whose subtle bane
The strongest did not easily escape;
And He, what wonder! took a mortal taint.
How shall I trace the change, how bear to tell
That he broke faith with them whom he had laid
In earth's dark chambers, with a Christian's lope?
An infidel contempt of holy writ
Stole by degrees upon his mind; and hence
Life, like that Roman Janus, double-faced;
Vilest hypocrisy-the laughing, gay
Hypocrisy, not leagued with fear, but pride.
Smooth words he had to wheedle simple souls
But, for disciples of the inner school,
Old freedom was old servitude, and they
The wisest whose opinions stooped the least
To known restraints; and who most boldly drew
Hopeful prognostications from a creed,
That, in the light of false philosophy,
Spread like a halo round a misty moon,
Widening its circle as the storms advance.
His sacred function was at length renounced;
And every day and every place enjoyed
The unshackled layman's natural liberty;
Speech, manners, morals, all without disguise.
I do not wish to wrong him; though the course
Of private life licentiously displayed
Unhallowed actions-planted like a crown
Upon the insolent aspiring brow
Of spurious notions-worn as open signs
Of prejudice subdued-he still retained,
'Mid much abasement, what he had received
From nature, an intense and glowing mind.
Wherefore, when humbled Liberty grew weak,
And mortal sickness on her face appeared,
He coloured objects to his own desire
As with a lover's passion. Yet his moods
Of pain were keen as those of better men,
Nay keener, as his fortitude was less:
And he continued, when worse days were come,
To deal about his sparkling eloquence,
Struggling against the strange reverse with zeal That shewed like happiness. But, in despite
Of all its outside bravery, within,
He neither felt encouragement nor hope:
For moral dignity, and strength of mind,
Were wanting; and simplicity of life;
And reverence for himself; and, last and best,
Confiding thoughts, through love and fear of Him
Before whose sight the troubles of this world
Are vain, as billows in a tossing sea.
The glory of the times fading away-
The splendour, which had given a festal air
To self-importance, hallowed it, and veiled
From his own sight-this gone, therewith he lost
All joy in human nature; was consumed,
And vexed, and chafed, by levity and scorn,
And fruitless indignation; galled by pride;
Made desperate by contempt of men who throve
Before his sight in power or fame, and won,
Without desert, what he desired; weak men,
Too weak even for his envy or his hate!
And thus beset, and finding in himself
Nor pleasure nor tranquillity, at last,
After a wandering course of discontent
In foreign lands, and inwardly oppressed
With malady-in part, I fear, provoked
By weariness of life-he fixed his home,
Or, rather say, sate down by very chance,
Among these rugged hills; where now he dwells,
And wastes the sad remainder of his hours,
In self-indulging spleen, that doth not want
Its own voluptuousness;-on this resolved,
With this content, that he will live and die
Forgotten,-at safe distance from 'a world
Not moving to his mind."'
Closed the preparatory notices
With which my Fellow-traveller had beguiled
The way, while we advanced up that wide vale.
Now, suddenly diverging, he began
To climb upon its western side a ridge,
Pathless and smooth, a long and steep ascent,
As if the object of his quest had been
Some secret of the mountains, cavern, fall
Of water, or some boastful eminence,
Renowned for splendid prospect far and wide;
We clomb, without a track to guide our steps,
And on the summit reached a heathy plain,
With a tumultuous waste of huge hill-tops
Before us; savage region! and I walked
In weariness: when, all at once, behold!
Beneath our feet, a little lowly vale,
A lowly vale, and yet uplifted high
Among the mountains; even as if the spot
Had been from eldest time by wish of theirs
So placed, to be shut out from all the world!
Urn-like it was in shape, deep as an urn;
With rocks encompassed, save that to the south
Was one small opening, where a heath-clad ridge
Supplied a boundary less abrupt and close;
A quiet treeless nook, with two green fields,
A liquid pool that glittered in the sun,
And one bare dwelling; one abode, no more!
It seemed the home of poverty and toil,
Though not of want: the little fields, made green
By husbandry of many thrifty years,
Paid cheerful tribute to the moorland house.
-There crows the cock, single in his domain:
The small birds find in spring no thicket there
To shroud them; only from the neighbouring vales
The cuckoo, straggling up to the hill tops,
Shouteth faint tidings of some gladder place.
Ah! what a sweet Recess, thought I, is here!
Instantly throwing down my limbs at ease
Upon a bed of heath;-full many a spot
Of hidden beauty have I chanced to espy
Among the mountains; never one like this;
So lonesome, and so perfectly secure;
Not melancholy-no, for it is green,
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