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Of ignorance or illusion) lives and breathes
For noble purposes of mind: his heart
Beats to the heroic song of ancient days;
His eye distinguishes, his soul creates.

And those illusions, which excite the scorn
Or move the pity of unthinking minds,

Are they not mainly outward ministers

Of inward conscience? with whose service charged
They came and go, appeared and disappear,
Diverting evil purposes, remorse

Awakening, chastening an intemperate grief,
Or pride of heart abating: and, whene'er
For less important ends those phantoms move,
Who would forbid them, if their presence serve,
On thinly-peopled mountains and wild heaths,
Filling a space, else vacant, to exalt

The forms of Nature, and enlarge her powers?

"Once more to distant ages of the world Let us revert, and place before our thoughts The face which rural solitude might wear To the unenlightened swains of pagan Greece. -In that fair clime, the lonely herdsman, stretched On the soft grass through half a summer's day, With music lulled his indolent repose :

And, in some fit of weariness, if he,

When his own breath was silent, chanced to hear A distant strain, far sweeter than the sounds Which his poor skill could make, his fancy fetched, from the blazing chariot of the sun,

Even

A beardless Youth, who touched a golden lute,
And filled the illumined groves with ravishment.
The nightly hunter, lifting a bright eye

Up towards the crescent moon, with grateful heart
Called on the lovely wanderer who bestowed
That timely light, to share his joyous sport:
And hence, a beaming Goddess with her Nymphs,
Across the lawn and through the darksome grove,
Not unaccompanied with tuneful notes

By echo multiplied from rock or cave,

Swept in the storm of chase; as moon and stars Glance rapidly along the clouded heaven,

When winds are blowing strong. The traveller slaked

His thirst from rill or gushing fount, and thanked The Naiad. Sunbeams, upon distant hills

Gliding apace, with shadows in their train,

Might, with small help from fancy, be transformed
Into fleet Oreads sporting visibly.

The Zephyrs fanning, as they passed, their wings,
Lacked not, for love, fair objects whom they wooed
With gentle whisper. Withered boughs grotesque,
Stripped of their leaves and twigs by hoary age,
From depth of shaggy covert peeping forth
In the low vale, or on steep mountain-side;
And, sometimes, intermixed with stirring horns
Of the live deer, or goat's depending beard,-
These were the lurking Satyrs, a wild brood
Of gamesome Deities; or Pan himself,
The simple shepherd's awe-inspiring God!'

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The strain was aptly chosen; and I could mark Its kindly influence, o'er the yielding brow Of our Companion, gradually diffused;

While, listening, he had paced the noiseless turf, Like one whose untired ear a murmuring stream Detains; but tempted now to interpose,

He with a smile exclaimed:

""Tis well you speak

At a safe distance from our native land,

And from the mansions where our youth was taught.
The true descendants of those godly men
Who swept from Scotland, in a flame of zeal,
Shrine, altar, image, and the massy piles

That harbored them, - the souls retaining yet

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The churlish features of that after-race

Who fled to woods, caverns, and jutting rocks,
In deadly scorn of superstitious rites,

Or what their scruples construed to be such,
How, think you, would they tolerate this scheme
Of fine propensities, that tends, if urged
Far as it might be urged, to sow afresh
The weeds of Romish fantasy, in vain
Uprooted; would re-consecrate our wells
To good Saint Fillan and to fair Saint Anne,
And from long banishment recall Saint Giles,
To watch again with tutelary love

O'er stately Edinborough throned on crags?
A blessed restoration, to behold

The patron, on the shoulders of his priests,
Once more parading through her crowded streets,

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Now simply guarded by the sober powers
Of science, and philosophy, and sense!"

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Upon our brave Progenitors, who rose
Against idolatry with warlike mind,
And shrunk from vain observances, to lurk
In woods, and dwell under impending rocks
Ill sheltered, and oft wanting fire and food;
Why?
for this very reason, that they felt,
And did acknowledge, whereso'er they moved,
A spiritual presence, ofttimes misconceived,
But still a high dependence, a divine

Bounty and government, that filled their hearts
With joy, and gratitude, and fear, and love;
And from their fervent lips drew hymns of praise,
That through the desert rang. Though favored less,
Far less, than these, yet such, in their degree,
Were those bewildered Pagans of old time.
Beyond their own poor natures and above
They looked; were humbly thankful for the good
Which the warm sun solicited, and earth
Bestowed; were gladsome, - and their moral sense
They fortified with reverence for the Gods;
And they had hopes that overstepped the Grave.

"Now, shall our great discoverers," he exclaimed, Raising his voice triumphantly, “ obtain From sense and reason less than these obtained,

Though far misled? Shall men for whom our age
Unbaffled powers of vision hath prepared,

To explore the world without and world within,
Be joyless as the blind? Ambitious spirits,
Whom earth, at this late season, hath produced
To regulate the moving spheres, and weigh
The planets in the hollow of their hand;

And they who rather dive than soar, whose pains
Have solved the elements, or analyzed

The thinking principle, shall they in fact
Prove a degraded Race? and what avails
Renown, if their presumption make them such?
O, there is laughter at their work in heaven!
Inquire of ancient Wisdom; go, demand
Of mighty Nature, if 't was ever meant
That we should pry far off, yet be unraised;
That we should pore, and dwindle as we pore,
Viewing all objects unremittingly

In disconnection dead and spiritless;
And still dividing, and dividing still,
Break down all grandeur, still unsatisfied
With the perverse attempt, while littleness
May yet become more little; waging thus
An impious warfare with the very life
Of our own souls!

"And if indeed there be

An all-pervading Spirit, upon whom
Our dark foundations rest, could he design
That this magnificent effect of power,

The earth we tread, the sky that we behold

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