So green, so fresh, so plentiful, as mine!' But thinly sown these natures; rare, at least, The mutual aptitude of seed and soil
That yields such kindly product. He, whose bed Perhaps yon loose sods cover, the poor pensioner Brought yesterday from our sequester'd dell Here to lie down in lasting quiet-he,
If living now, could otherwise report
Of rustic loneliness; that gray-hair'd orphan- So call him, for humanity to him
No parent was-feelingly could have told, In life, in death, what solitude can breed Of selfishness, and cruelty, and vice; Or, if it breed not, hath not power to cure. But your compliance, sir, with our request My words too long have hinder'd."
Perhaps incited rather, by these shocks, In no ungracious opposition, given To the confiding spirit of his own Experienced faith, the reverend pastor said, Around him looking, "Where shall I begin? Who shall be first selected from my flock, Gather'd together in their peaceful fold?" He paused, and having lifted up his eyes To the pure heaven, he cast them down again Upon the earth beneath his feet; and spake. "To a mysteriously-consorted pair This place is consecrate; to death and life, And to the best affections that proceed From their conjunction ;-consecrate to faith In him who bled for man upon the cross; Hallow'd to revelation; and no less To reason's mandates: and the hopes divine Of pure imagination;-above all, To charity, and love, that have provided Within these precincts, a capacious bed And receptacle, open to the good And evil, to the just and the unjust; In which they find an equal resting-place: E'en as the multitude of kindred brooks And streams, whose murmur fills this hollow vale, Whether their course be turbulent or smooth, Their waters clear or sullied, all are lost
Within the bosom of yon crystal lake,
And end their journey in the same repose!
Tyrants who utter the destroying word, And slaves who will consent to be destroy'd- Were of one species with the shelter'd few, Who, with a dutiful and tender hand, Did lodge, in an appropriated spot,
This file of infants; some that never breathed The vital air; and others, who, allow'd That privilege, did yet expire too soon, Or with too brief a warning, to admit Administration of the holy rite
That lovingly consigns the babe to th' arms Of Jesus, and his everlasting care. These that in trembling hope are laid apart; And the besprinkled nursling, unrequired Till he begins to smile upon the breast That feeds him; and the tottering little one Taken from air and sunshine when the rose Of infancy first blooms upon his cheek; The thinking, thoughtless schoolboy: the bold youth
Of soul impetuous, and the bashful maid Smitten while all the promises of life Are opening round her: those of middle age, Cast down while confident in strength they stand, Like pillars fix'd more firmly, as might seem, And more secure, by very weight of all That, for support, rests on them; the decay'd And burdensome: and lastly, that poor few Whose light of reason is with age extinct; The hopeful and the hopeless, first and last, The earliest summon'd and the longest spared- Are here deposited, with tribute paid Various, but unto each some tribute paid; As if, amid these peaceful hills and groves, Society were touch'd with kind concern: And gentle Nature grieved, that one should die ; Or, if the change demanded no regret, Observed the liberating stroke-and bless'd. And whence that tribute? wherefore these regards? Not from the naked heart alone of man, (Though claiming high distinction upon earth As the sole spring and fountain-head of tears, His own peculiar utterance for distress Or gladness.) No," the philosophic priest Continued," 'tis not in the vital seat Of feeling to produce them, without aid
"And blest are they who sleep; and we that From the pure soul, the soul sublime and pure;
With her two faculties of eye and car,
The one by which a creature, whom his sins Have render'd prone, can upward look to heaven; The other that empowers him to perceive The voice of deity, on height and plain, Whispering those truths in stillness, which the WORD,
To the four quarters of the winds, proclaims. Not without such assistance could the use Of these benign observances prevail. Thus are they born, thus foster'd and maintain'd; And by the care prospective of our wise Forefathers, who, to guard against the shocks, The fluctuation and decay of things, Imbodied and establish'd these high truths In solemn institutions; men convinced That life is love and immortality, The being one, and one the element. There lies the channel, and original bed,
From the beginning, hollow'd out and scoop'd For man's affections; else betray'd and lost, And swallow'd up 'mid deserts infinite! This is the genuine course, the aim, and end Of prescient reason; all conclusions else Are abject, vain, presumptuous, and perverse, The faith partaking of those holy times. Life, I repeat, energy of love Divine or human; exercised in pain, In strife, and tribulation; and ordain'd, If so approved and sanctified, to pass,
Through shades and silent rest, to endless joy."
THE CHURCHYARD AMONG THE MOUNTAINS.
Of pious sentiment diffused afar, And human charity, and social love. Thus never shall th' indignities of time Approach their reverend graces, unopposed; Nor shall the elements be free to hurt Their fair proportions; nor the blinder rage Of bigot zeal madly to overturn; And, if the desolating hand of war Spare them, they shall continue to bestowUpon the throng'd abodes of busy men (Depraved, and ever prone to fill their minds Exclusively with transitory things) An air and mien of dignified pursuit ; Of sweet civility-on rustic wilds. The poet, fostering for his native land Such hope, entreats that servants may abound Of those pure altars worthy; ministers Detach'd from pleasure, to the love of gain Superior, insusceptible of pride, Poet's address to the state and church of England. The And by ambitious longings undisturb'd; pastor not inferior to the ancient worthies of the church. Men, whose delight is where their duty leads He begins his narratives with an instance of unrequited Or fixes them; whose least distinguish'd day love. Anguish of mind subdued, and how. The lonely Shines with some portion of that heavenly lustre miner, an instance of perseverance, which leads by Which makes the Sabbath lovely in the sight contrast to an example of abused talents, irresolution, and weakness. Solitary, applying this covertly to his Of blessed angels, pitying human cares. own case, asks for an instance of some stranger, whose And, as on earth it is the doom of truth dispositions may have led him to end his days here. To be perpetually attack'd by foes Pastor, in answer, gives an account of the harmonizing Open or covert, be that priesthood still, influence of solitude upon two men of opposite princi- For her defence, replenish'd with a band ples, who had encountered agitations in public life. Of strenuous champions, in scholastic arts The rule by which peace may be obtained expressed, and where. Solitary hints at an overpowering fatality. Thoroughly disciplined; nor (if in course Answer of the pastor. What subjects he will exclude Of the revolving world's disturbances from his narratives. Conversation upon this. Instance Cause should recur, which righteous heaven avert! of an unamiable character, a female, and why given. To meet such trial) from their spiritual sire Contrasted with this, a meek sufferer, from unguarded and betrayed love. Instance of heavier guilt, and its Degenerate; who, constrain'd to wield the sword consequences to the offender. With this instance of a Of disputation, shrunk not, though assail'd marriage contract broken is contrasted one of a wi-With hostile din, and combating in sight dower, evidencing his faithful affection towards his deceased wife by his care of their female children. HAIL to the crown by freedom shaped, to gird An English sovereign's brow! and to the throne Whereon he sits! Whose deep foundations lie In veneration and the people's love; Whose steps are equity, whose seat is law. Hail to the state of England! And conjoin With this a salutation as devout, Made to the spiritual fabric of her church: Founded in truth; by blood of martyrdom Cemented; by the hands of wisdom rear'd In beauty of holiness, with order'd pomp, Decent, and unreproved. The voice, that greets The majesty of both, shall pray for both; That, mutually protected and sustain'd, They may endure long as the sea surrounds This favour'd land, or sunshine warms her soil. And O, ye swelling hills, and spacious plains! Besprent from shore to shore with steeple-towers, And spires whose "silent finger points to heaven;" Nor wanting, at wide intervals, the bulk Of ancient minster, lifted above the cloud Of the dense air, which town or city breeds To intercept the sun's glad beams,-may ne'er That true succession fail of English hearts, Who, with ancestral feeling can perceive What in those holy structures ye possess Of ornamental interest and the charm
Of angry umpires, partial and unjust;
And did, thereafter, bathe their hands in fire, So to declare the conscience satisfied: Nor for their bodies would accept release; But, blessing God and praising him, bequeathed With their last breath, from out the smouldering flame,
The faith which they by diligence had earn'd, Or, through illuminating grace, received, For their dear countrymen, and all mankind. O high example, constancy divine!
E'en such a man (inheriting the zeal And from the sanctity of elder times Not deviating, a priest, the like of whom, If multiplied, and in their stations set, Would o'er the bosom of a joyful land Spread true religion, and her genuine fruits) Before me stood that day; on holy ground Fraught with the relics of mortality, Exalting tender themes, by just degrees To lofty raised; and to the highest, last; The head and mighty paramount of truths; Immortal life, in never-fading worlds, For mortal creatures, conquer'd and secured. That basis laid, those principles of faith Announced, as a preparatory act Of reverence to the spirit of the place; The pastor cast his eyes upon the ground, Not, as before, like one oppress'd with awe,
But with a mild and social cheerfulness, Then to the solitary turn'd, and spake.
"At morn or eve, in your retired domain, Perchance you not unfrequently have mark'd A visiter-in quest of herbs and flowers; Too delicate employ, as would appear
For one, who, though of drooping mien, had yet From nature's kindliness received a frame Robust as ever rural labour bred."
The solitary answer'd: "Such a form Full well I recollect. We often cross'd Each other's path; but, as th' intruder seem'd Fondly to prize the silence which he kept, And I as willingly did cherish mine,
We met, and pass'd, like shadows. I have heard, From my good host that he was crazed in brain By unrequited love; and scaled the rocks, Dived into caves, and pierced the matted woods In hope to find some virtuous herb of power To cure his malady!"
The vicar smiled, "Alas! before to-morrow's sun goes down His habitation will be here: for him That open grave is destined."
Of pain and grief?" the solitary ask'd, "Believe it not-oh! never could that be !" "He loved," the vicar answer'd, "deeply loved, Loved fondly, truly, fervently; and dared At length to tell his love, but sued in vain ; Rejected-yea repell'd-and, if with scorn Upon the haughty maiden's brow, 'tis but
A high-prized plume which female beauty wears In wantonness of conquest, or puts on To cheat the world, or from herself to hide Humiliation, when no longer free.
That he could brook, and glory in ;-but when The tidings came that she whom he had woo'd Was wedded to another, and his heart Was forced to rend away its only hope, Then, pity could have scarcely found on earth An object worthier of regard than he, In the transition of that bitter hour! Lost was she, lost; nor could the sufferer say That in the act of preference he had been Unjustly dealt with; but the maid was gone! Had vanish'd from his prospects and desires; Not by translation to the heavenly choir Who have put off their mortal spoils-ah no! She lives another s wishes to complete,- Joy be their lot, and happiness,' he cried, 'His lot and hers as misery is mine!'
"Such was that strong concussion; but the man, Who trembled, trunk and limbs, like some huge oak By a fierce tempest shaken, soon resumed The steadfast quiet natural to a mind Of composition gentle and sedate, And in its movements circumspect and slow. To books, and to the long forsaken desk, O'er which enchain'd by science he had loved To bend, he stoutly readdress'd himself, Resolved to quell his pain, and search for truth With keener appetite (if that might be) And closer industry. Of what ensued Within the heart no outward sign appear'd Till a betraying sickliness was seen
Court the fresh air, explore the heaths and woods; And, leaving it to others to foretell,
By calculations sage, the ebb and flow
Of tides, and when the moon will be eclipsed, Do you, for your own benefit, construct
A calendar of flowers, pluck'd as they blow Where health abides, and cheerfulness, and peace.' The attempt was made; 'tis needless to report How hopelessly: but innocence is strong, An an entire simplicity of mind,
A thing most sacred in the eye of heaven, That opens, for such sufferers, relief Within their souls, a fount of grace divine; And doth commend their weakness and disease To nature's care, assisted in her office By all the elements that round her wait To generate, to preserve, and to restore; And by her beautiful array of forms Shedding sweet influence from above, or pure Delight exhaling from the ground they tread." "Impute it not to impatience, if," exclaim'd The wanderer, "I infer that he was heal'd By perseverance in the course prescribed." "You do not err: the powers, that had been lost By slow degrees, were gradually regain'd; The fluttering nerves composed; the beating heart In rest establish'd; and the jarring thoughts To harmony restored. But yon dark mould Will cover him, in the fulness of his strength- Hastily smitten, by a fever's force; Yet not with stroke so sudden as refused Time to look back with tenderness on her Whom he had loved in passion,-and to send Some farewell words-with one, but one, request, That, from his dying hand, she would accept Of his possessions that which most he prized; A book, upon whose leaves some chosen plants By his own hand disposed with nicest care, In undecaying beauty were preserved; Mute register, to him, of time and place, And various fluctuations in the breast; To her, a monument of faithful love Conquer'd, and in tranquillity retain'd!
"Close to his destined habitation, lies One who achieved a humbler victory, Though marvellous in its kind. A place there is High in these mountains, that allured a band Of keen adventurers to unite their pains In search of precious ore: who tried, were foil'd- And all desisted, all, save him alone. He, taking counsel of his own clear thoughts, And trusting only to his own weak hands, Urged unremittingly the stubborn work, Unseconded, uncountenanced; then, as time
Pass'd on, while still his lonely efforts found No recompense, derided; and at length, By many pitied'; as insane of mind; By others dreaded as the luckless thrall Of subterranean spirits feeding hope By various mockery of sight and sound; Hope after hope, encouraged and destroy'd. But when the lord of seasons had matured The fruits of earth through space of twice ten years The mountain's entrails offer'd to his view And trembling grasp the long deterr'd reward. Not with more transport did Columbus greet A world, his rich discovery! but our swain, A very hero till his point was gain'd, Proved all unable to support the weight Of prosperous fortune. On the fields he look'd With an unsettled liberty of thought,
Of schemes and wishes; in the daylight walk'd Giddy and restless; ever and anon Quaff'd in his gratitude immoderate cups And truly might be said to die of joy!
He vanish'd; but conspicuous to this day The path remains that link'd his cottage door To the mine's mouth; a long, and slanting track, Upon the rugged mountain's stony side, Worn by his daily visits to and from The darksome centre of a constant hope. This vestige, neither force of beating rain, Nor the vicissitudes of frost and thaw Shall cause to fade, till ages pass away; And it is named, in memory of the event, The Path of Perseverance."
"Thou from whom Man has his strength," exclaim'd the wanderer, "O!
Do Thou direct it!-to the virtuous grant
The penetrative eye which can perceive
In this blind world the guiding vein of hope,
That like this labourer, such may dig their way 'Unshaken, unseduced, unterrified ;'
Grant to the wise his firmness of resolve !"
Into the lists of giddy enterprise- Such was he; yet, as if within his frame Two several souls alternately had lodged, Two sets of manners could the youth put on; And, fraught with antics as the Indian bird That writhes and chatters in her wiry cage; Was graceful, when it pleased him, smooth and still As the mute swan that floats adown the stream, Or, on the waters of the unruffled lake, Anchors her placid beauty. Not a leaf, That flutters on the bough, more light than He; And not a flower, that droops in the green shade, More winningly reserved! If ye inquire How such consummate elegance was bred Amid these wilds, this answer may suffice, 'Twas nature's will; who sometimes undertakes, For the reproof of human vanity,
Art to outstrip in her peculiar walk. Hence, for this favourite, lavishly endow'd With personal gifts, and bright instinctive wit, While both, embellishing each other, stood Yet farther recommended by the charm Of fine demeanour, and by dance and song, And skill in letters, every fancy shaped Fair expectations; nor, when to the world's Capacious field forth went the adventurer there Were he and his attainments overlook'd, Or scantily rewarded; but all hopes, Cherish'd for him, he suffer'd to depart,
Like blighted buds; or clouds that mimick'd land Before the sailor's eye; or diamond drops That sparkling deck'd the morning grass; or augh' That was attractive-and hath ceased to be! Yet when this prodigal return'd, the rites Of joyful greeting were on him bestow'd, Who, by humiliation undeterr'd,
Sought for his weariness a place of rest Within his father's gates. Whence came he?-
In tatter'd garb, from hovels where abides Necessity, the stationary host
"That prayer were not superfluous," said the Of vagrant poverty; from rifted barns
"Amid the noblest relics, proudest dust, That Westminster, for Britain's glory, holds Within the bosom of her awful pile, Ambitiously collected. Yet the sigh,
Which wafts that prayer to heaven, is due to all, Wherever laid, who living fell below Their virtue's humbler mark; a sigh of pain If to the opposite extreme they sank. How would you pity her who yonder rests; Him, farther off; the pair, who here are laid; But, above all, that mixture of earth's mould Whom sight of this green hillock to my mind Recalls! He lived not till his locks were nipp'd By seasonable frost of age; nor died Before his temples, prematurely forced To mix the manly brown with silver gray, Gave obvious instance of the sad effect Produced, when thoughtless folly hath usurp'd The natural crown that sage experience wears. Gay, volatile, ingenious, quick to learn, And prompt to exhibit all that he possess'd Or could perform! a zealous actor-hired Into the troop of mirth, a soldier-sworn
Where no one dwells but the wide staring owl And the owl's prey; from these bare haunts, te which
He had descended from the proud saloon, He came, the ghost of beauty and of health, The wreck of gayety! but soon revived In strength, in power refitted, he renew'd His suit to fortune; and she smiled again Upon a fickle ingrate. Thrice he rose, Thrice sank as willingly. For he, whose nerves Were used to thrill with pleasure, while his voice Softly accompanied the tuneful harp, By the nice finger of fair ladies, touch'd In glittering halls, was able to derive No less enjoyment from an abject choice. Who happier for the moment-who more blithe Than this fall'n spirit? in those dreary holds His talents lending to exalt the freaks Of merry-making beggars,-now, provoked To laughter multiplied in louder peals By his malicious wit; then, all enchain'd With mute astonishment, themselves to see In their own arts outdone, their fame eclipsed, As by the very presence of the fiend
Who dictates and inspires illusive feats, For knavish purposes! The city, too, (With shame I speak it,) to her guilty bowers Allured him, sunk so low in self-respect As there to linger, there to eat his bread, Hired minstrel of voluptuous blandishment; Charming the air with skill of hand or voice, Listen who would, be wrought upon who might, Sincerely wretched hearts, or falsely gay. Such the too frequent tenor of his boast In ears that relish'd the report ;-but all Was from his parents happily conceal'd; Who saw enough for blame and pitying love. They also were permitted to receive His last, repentant breath, and closed his eyes, No more to open on that irksome world Where he had long existed in the state Of a young fowl beneath one mother hatch'd Though from another sprung-of different kind: Where he had lived, and could not cease to live Distracted in propensity; content With neither element of good or ill; And yet in both rejoicing; man unblest; Of contradictions infinite the slave,
Till his deliverance, when mercy made him One with himself, and one with them who sleep." ""Tis strange," observed the solitary, "strange, It seems, and scarcely less than pitiful, That in a land where charity provides For all that can no longer feed themselves,
A man like this should choose to bring his shame To the parental door; and with his sighs Infect the air which he had freely breathed In happy infancy. He could not pine, Through lack of converse, no, he must have found Abundant exercise for thought and speech, In his dividual being, self-review'd, Self-catechized, self-punish'd. Some there are Who, drawing near their final home, and much And daily longing that the same were reach'd, Would rather shun than seek the fellowship Of kindred mould. Such haply here are laid ?" "Yes," said the priest," the genius of our hills, Who seems, by these stupendous barriers cast Round his domain, desirous not alone To keep his own, but also to exclude All other progeny, doth sometimes lure, E'en by this studied depth of privacy, The unhappy alien hoping to obtain Concealment, or seduced by wish to find, In place from outward molestation free, Helps to internal ease. Of many such Could I discourse; but as their stay was brief, So their departure only left behind Fancies, and loose conjectures. Other trace Survives, for worthy mention, of a pair Who, from the pressure of their several fates, Meeting as strangers, in a petty town Whose blue roofs ornament a distant reach Of this far winding vale, remain'd as friends True to their choice; and gave their bones in trust To this loved cemetery, here to lodge With unescutcheon'd privacy interr'd Far from the family vault. A chieftain one By right of birth; within whose spotless breast The fire of ancient Caledonia burn'd.
He, with the foremost whose impatience hail'd The Stuart, landing to resume, by force Of arms, the crown which bigotry had lost, Aroused his clan; and, fighting at their head, With his brave sword endeavour'd to prevent Culloden's fatal overthrow. Escaped
From that disastrous rout, to foreign shores He fled; and when the lenient hand of time Those troubles had appeased, he sought and gain'd, For his obscured condition, an obscure Retreat, within this nook of English ground. The other, born in Britain's southern tract, Had fix'd his milder loyalty, and placed His gentler sentiments of love and hate, There, where they placed them who in conscience
The new succession, as a line of kings Whose oath had virtue to protect the land Against the dire assaults of papacy
And arbitrary rule. But launch thy bark On the distemper'd flood of public life,
And cause for most rare triumph will be thine, If, spite of keenest eye and steadiest hand, The stream, that bears thee forward, prove not, soon Or late, a perilous master. He, who oft, Under the battlements and stately trees That round his mansion cast a sober gloom, Had moralized on this, and other truths Of kindred import, pleased and satisfied, Was forced to vent his wisdom with a sigh Heaved from the heart in fortune's bitterness, When he had crush'd a plentiful estate By ruinous contest, to obtain a seat In Britain's senate. Fruitless was the attempt: And while the uproar of that desperate strife Continued yet to vibrate on his ear, The vanquish'd whig, beneath a borrow'd name, (For the mere sound and echo of his own Haunted him with sensations of disgust That he was glad to lose,) slunk from the world To the deep shade of these untravell'd wilds; In which the Scottish laird had long possess'd An undisturb'd abode. Here, then, they met, Two doughty champions; flaming Jacobite And sullen Hanoverian! You might think That losses and vexations, less severe Than those which they had severally sustain'd, Would have inclined each to abate his zeal For his ungrateful cause; no,-I have heard My reverend father tell that, 'mid the calm Of that small town encountering thus, they fill'd, Daily, its bowling-green with harmless strife; Plagued with uncharitable thoughts the church; And vex'd the market-place. But in the breasts Of these opponents gradually was wrought, With little change of general sentiment, Such change towards each other, that their days By choice were spent in constant fellowship; And if, at times, they fretted with the yoke, Those very bickerings made them love it more.
"A favourite boundary to their lengthen'd walks This churchyard was. And, whether they had come Treading their path in sympathy and link'd In social converse, or by some short space Discreetly parted to preserve the peace, One spirit seldom fail'd t' extend its sway
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