Hath not completed since our dame, the queen
Of this one cottage and this lonely dale,
Into my little sanctuary rushed,—
Voice to a rueful treble humanized,
And features in deplorable dismay:
I treat the matter lightly, but alas!
It is most serious. From mid-noon the rain
Had fallen in torrents; all the mountain-tops
Were hidden, and black vapours coursed their sides;
This had I seen, and saw ; but, till she spake,
Was wholly ignorant that my ancient friend-
Who at her bidding, early and alone,
Had clomb aloft to delve the moorland turf
For winter fuel, to his noontide meal
Came not, and now perchance upon the heights
Lay at the mercy of this raging storm.
"Inhuman!" said I, "was an old man's life
Not worth the trouble of a thought ?-alas!
This notice comes too late." With joy I saw
Her husband enter, from a distant vale.
We sallied forth together; found the tools
Which the neglected veteran had dropped,
But through all quarters looked for him in vain.
We shouted-but no answer! Darkness fell
Without remission of the blast or shower,
And fears for our own safety drove us home.
I, who weep little, did, I will confess,
The moment I was seated here alone,
Honour my little cell with some few tears
Which anger and resentment could not dry.
All night the storm endured; and, soon as help
Had been collected from the neighbouring vale,
With morning we renewed our quest: the wind
Was fallen, the rain abated, but the hills
Lay shrouded in impenetrable mist;
And long and hopelessly we sought in vain
Till, chancing on that lofty ridge to pass
A heap of ruin, almost without walls
And wholly without roof (in ancient time
It was a chapel, a small edifice,
In which the peasants of these lonely dells
For worship met upon that central height)—
Chancing to pass this wreck of stones, we there
Espied at last the object of our search,
Couched in a nook, and seemingly alive.
It would have moved you, had you seen the guise
In which he occupied his chosen bed,
Lying full three parts buried among tufts
Of heath-plant under and above him strown,
To baffle, as he might, the watery storm :
And there we found him breathing peaceably;
Snug as a child that hides itself in sport
'Mid a green haycock in a sunny field.
We spake he made reply, but would not stir
At our entreaty; less from want of power
Than apprehension and bewildering thoughts.
So he was lifted gently from the ground,
And with their freight the shepherds homeward moved
Through the dull mist, I following-when a step,
A single step, that freed me from the skirts
Of the blind vapour, opened to my view
Glory beyond all glory ever seen
By waking sense or by the dreaming soul!
Though I am conscious that no power of words
Can body forth, no hues of speech can paint
That gorgeous spectacle-too bright and fair
Even for remembrance; yet the attempt may give
Collateral interest to this homely tale.
The appearance, instantaneously disclosed,
Was of a mighty city-boldly say
A wilderness of building-sinking far
And self-withdrawn into a boundless depth,
Far sinking into splendour-without end!
Fabric it seemed diamond and of gold,
With alabaster domes and silver spires;
And blazing terrace upon terrace, high
Uplifted; here, serene pavilions bright,
In avenues disposed; there, towers begirt
With battlements, that on their restless fronts
Bore stars-illumination of all gems!
By earthly nature had the effect been wrought
Upon the dark materials of the storm
Now pacified; on them, and on the coves
And mountain-steeps and summits, whereunto
The vapours had receded, taking there
Their station under a cerulean sky.
O, 'twas an unimaginable sight!
Clouds, mists, streams, watery rocks, and emerald turf,
Clouds of all tincture, rocks and sapphire sky,
Confused, commingled, mutually inflamed,
Molten together, and composing thus,
Each lost in each, that marvellous array
Of temple, palace, citadel, and huge
Fantastic pomp of structure without name,
In fleecy folds voluminous enwrapped.
Right in the midst, where interspace appeared
Of open court, an object like a throne
Under a shining canopy of state
Stood fixed; and fixed resemblances were seen
To implements of ordinary use,
But vast in size, in substance glorified;
Such as by Hebrew prophets were beheld
In vision-forms uncouth of mightiest power,
For admiration and mysterious awe.
Below me was the earth; this little vale,
Lay low beneath my feet; 'twas visible
I saw not, but I felt, that it was there.
That which I saw was the revealed abode
Of spirits in beatitude: my heart
Swelled in my breast. I have been dead,' I cried,
'And now I live! Oh! wherefore do I live?'
And with that pang I prayed to be no more!
But I forget our charge-as utterly
I then forgot him—there I stood and gazed;
The apparition faded not away,
And I descended. Having reached the house.
I found its rescued inmate safely lodged,
And in serene possession of himself,
Beside a genial fire that seemed to spread
A gleam of comfort o'er his pallid face.
Great show of joy the housewife made, and truly
Was glad to find her conscience set at ease;
And not less glad, for sake of her good name,
That the poor sufferer had escaped with life.
But, though he seemed at first to have received
No harm, and uncomplaining as before
Went through his usual tasks, a silent change
Soon showed itself; he lingered three short weeks;
And from the cottage hath been borne to-day.
"So ends my dolorous tale, and glad I am
That it is ended." At these words he turned-
And, with blithe air of open fellowship,
Brought from the cupboard wine and stouter cheer,
Like one who would be merry. Seeing this
My grey-haired friend said courteously-" Nay, nay,
You have regaled us as a hermit ought;
Now let us forth into the sun!" Our host
Rose, though reluctantly, and forth we went.
Images in the Valley-Another recess in it entered and described-Wanderer's sensations -Bolitary's excited by the same objects-Contrast between these-Despondency of the Solitary gently reproved- Conversation exhibiting the Solitary's past and present opinions and feelings, till he enters upon his own history at length-His domestic felicity-Afflictions Dejection-Roused by the French Revolution-Disappointment and disgust-Voyage to America-Disappointment and disgust pursue him-His return -His languor and depression of mind, from want of faith in the great truths of religion, and want of confidence in the virtue of mankind.
A HUMMING BEE-a little tinkling rill-
A pair of falcons wheeling on the wing,
In clamorous agitation, round the crest
Of a tall rock, their airy citadel-
By each and all of these the pensive ear
Was greeted, in the silence that ensued,
When through the cottage threshold we had passed,
And, deep within that lonesome valley, stood
Once more beneath the concave of the blue
And cloudless sky. Anon exclaimed our host,
Triumphantly dispersing with the taunt
The shade of discontent which on his brow
Had gathered," Ye have left my cell-but see
Now Nature hems you in with friendly arms!
And by her help ye are my prisoners still.
But which way shall I lead you ?-how contrive,
In spot so parsimoniously endowed,
That the brief hours which yet remain may reap
Some recompense of knowledge or delight?"
So saying, round he looked, as if perplexed;
And, to remove these doubts, my grey-haired friend
Said "Shall we take this pathway for our guide ?--
Upwards it winds, as if, in summer heats,
Its line had first been fashioned by the flock
A place of refuge seeking at the root
Of yon black yew-tree, whose protruded boughs
Darken the silver bosom of the crag
From which it draws its meagre sustenance.
There in commodious shelter may we rest.
Or let us trace the streamlet to its source;
Feebly it tinkles with an earthly sound,
And a few steps may bring us to the spot
Where, haply, crowned with flow'rets and green herbs,
The mountain infant to the sun comes forth,
Like human life from darkness." At the word
We followed where he led. A sudden turn
Through a straight passage of encumbered ground,
Proved that such hope was vain: for now we stood
Shut out from prospect of the open vale,
And saw the water that composed this rill,
Descending, disembodied, and diffused
O'er the smooth surface of an ample crag,
Lofty, and steep, and naked as a tower.
All further progress here was barred.
Thought I, "if master of a vacant hour,
Here would not linger, willingly detained?
Whether to such wild objects he were led
When copious rains have magnified the stream
Into a loud and white-robed waterfall,
Or introduced at this more quiet time."
Upon a semicirque of turf-clad ground,
The hidden rock discovered to our view
A mass of nook, resembling, as it lay
Right at the foot of that moist precipice,
A stranded ship, with keel upturned, -that rests
Fearless of winds and waves. Three several stones
Stood near, of smaller size, and not unlike
To monumental pillars: and from these
Some little space disjoined, a pair were seen,
That with united shoulders bore aloft
A fragment, like an altar, flat and smooth.
Barren the tablet, yet thereon appeared
Conspicuously stationed, one fair plant,
A tall and shining holly, that had found
A hospitable chink, and stood upright,
As if inserted by some human hand
In mockery, to wither in the sun,
Or lay its beauty flat before a breeze,
The first that entered. But no breeze did now
Find entrance; high or low appeared no trace
Of motion, save the water that descended,
Diffused adown that barrier of steep rock,
And softly creeping, like a breath of air,
Such as is sometimes seen, and hardly seen,
To brush the still breast of a crystal lake.
"Behold a cabinet for sages built,
Which kings might envy!" Praise to this effect
Broke from the happy old man's reverend lip;
Who to the Solitary turned, and said,
"In sooth, with love's familiar privilege,
You have decried, in no unseemly terms
Of modesty, that wealth which is your own.
Among these rocks and stones, methinks, I see
More than the heedless impress that belongs
To lonely nature's casual work; they bear
A semblance strange of power intelligent,
And of design not wholly worn away.
Boldest of plants that ever faced the wind,
How gracefully that slender shrub looks forth
From its fantastic birth-place! And I own,
Some shadowy intimations haunt me here,
I cannot but incline to a belief
That in these shows a chronicle survives
Of purposes akin to those of man,
But wrought with mightier arm than now prevails.
Voiceless the stream descends into the gulf
With timid lapse; and lo! while in this strait
I stand-the chasm of sky above my head
Is heaven's profoundest azure; no domain
For fickle, short-lived clouds to occupy,
Or to pass through, but rather an abyss
In which the everlasting stars abide;
And whose soft gloom and boundless depth might tempt
The curious eye to look for them by day.
Hail Contemplation! from the stately towers,
Reared by the industrious hand of human art
To lift thee high above the misty air,
And turbulence of murmuring cities vast;
From academic groves, that have for thee
Been planted, hither come and find a lodge
To which thou mayest resort for holier peace,-
From whose calm centre thou, through height or depth,
Mayest penetrate, wherever truth shall lead;
Measuring through all degrees, until the scale
Of time and conscious nature disappear,
Lost in unsearchable eternity!"
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