Quick change of objects; and, to laugh alone, At a composing distance from the haunts Of strife and folly, though it be a treat As choice as musing Leisure can bestow; Yet, in the very centre of the crowd, To keep the secret of a poignant scorn, Howe'er to airy Demons suitable, Of all unsocial courses, is least fit For the gross spirit of mankind, That soonest fails to please, and quickliest turns Into vexation.
Leave this unknit Republic to the scourge Of her own passions; and to regions haste, Whose shades have never felt the encroaching
Or soil endured a transfer in the mart
Of dire rapacity. There, Man abides, Primeval Nature's child. A creature weak In combination, (wherefore else driven back So far, and of his old inheritance
So easily deprived ?) but, for that cause, More dignified, and stronger in himself; Whether to act, judge, suffer, or enjoy. True, the intelligence of social art Hath overpowered his forefathers, and soon Will sweep the remnant of his line away; But contemplations, worthier, nobler far Than her destructive energies, attend His independence, when along the side
Of Mississippi, or that northern stream That spreads into successive seas, he walks; Pleased to perceive his own unshackled life, And his innate capacities of soul,
There imaged or when, having gained the top Of some commanding eminence, which yet Intruder ne'er beheld, he thence surveys Regions of wood and wide savannah, vast Expanse of unappropriated earth,
With mind that sheds a light on what he sees;' Free as the sun, and lonely as the sun, Pouring above his head its radiance down Upon a living and rejoicing world!
"So, westward, toward the unviolated woods, I bent my way; and, roaming far and wide, Failed not to greet the merry Mocking-bird; And, while the melancholy Muccawiss (The sportive bird's companion in the grove) Repeated, o'er and o'er, his plaintive cry, I sympathized at leisure with the sound; But that pure archetype of human greatness, I found him not. There, in his stead, appeared A creature, squalid, vengeful, and impure; Remorseless, and submissive to no law But superstitious fear and abject sloth.
What from my fellow-beings I require, And either they have not to give, or I Lack virtue to receive; what I myself, Too oft by wilful forfeiture, have lost, Nor can regain. How languidly I look Upon this visible fabric of the world May be divined, perhaps it hath been said: But spare your pity, if there be in me Aught that deserves respect: for I exist, Within myself, not comfortless. The tenor Which my life holds, he readily may conceive Who e'er hath stood to watch a mountain brook In some still passage of its course, and seen, Within the depths of its capacious breast, Inverted trees, rocks, clouds, and azure sky; And, on its glassy surface, specks of foam, And conglobated bubbles undissolved, Numerous as stars; that, by their onward lapse, Betray to sight the motion of the stream, Else imperceptible. Meanwhile is heard A softened roar, or murmur; and the sound Though soothing, and the little floating isles Though beautiful, are both by Nature charged With the same pensive office; and make known Through what perplexing labyrinths, abrupt Precipitations, and untoward straits,
The earth-born wanderer hath passed; and quickly, That respite o'er, like traverses and toils Must he again encounter. Such a stream Is human Life; and so the Spirit fares
In the best quiet to her course allowed;
That my particular current soon will reach
The unfathomable gulf, where all is still!”
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