Imágenes de páginas

Beside a fire whose genial warmth seemed met
By a faint shining from the heart, a gleam
Of comfort, spread over 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,
May gray-haired Friend said courteously, -"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. — Solitary's excited by the same objects. Contrast between these. — Despondency of the Solitary gerily 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 o 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 a 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
How 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 l'emove those doubts, my gray-haired

Friend Said, “ Shall we take this pathway for our

guide ? Upward it winds, as if, in summer heats, Its line had first been fashioned by the flock Seeking a place of refuge at the root Of yon black Yew-tree, whose protruded boughs Darken the silver bosom of the crag, From which she draws her meagre sustenance. There in commodious shelter may we rest. Or let us trace this streamlet to its source; Feebly it tinkles with an earthy sound, And a few steps may bring us to the spot Where, haply, crowned with flowerets and green

The mountain infant to the sun comes forth,
Like human life from darkness.” A quick turn
Through a strait passage of encumbered ground
Proved that such hope was vain:—for now we stood
Shut out from prospect of the open

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;

And who,
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 maguified the streain

« AnteriorContinuar »