And be in part compensated. For rights,
Widely-inveterately usurp'd upon,
I spake with vehemence; and promptly seized
Whate'er abstraction furnish'd for my needs
Of purposes; nor scrupled to proclaim,
And propagate, by liberty of life,
Those new persuasions. Not that I rejoiced,
Or e'en found pleasure, in such vagrant course,
For its own sake; but farthest from the walk
Which I had trod in happiness and peace,
Was most inviting to a troubled mind;
That, in a struggling and distemper'd world,
Saw a seductive image of herself.
Yet, mark the contradictions of which man
Is still the sport! Here nature was my guide,
The nature of the dissolute; but thee,
O fostering nature! I rejected-smiled
At others' tears in pity: and in scorn
At those, which thy soft influence sometimes drew
From my unguarded heart. The tranquil shores
Of Britain circumscribed me; else, perhaps,
I might have been entangled among deeds,
Which, now, as infamous, I should abhor-
Despise, as senseless: for my spirit relish'd
Strangely the exasperation of that land,
Which turn'd an angry beak against the down
Of her own breast; confounded into hope
Of disencumbering thus her fretful wings.
But all was quieted by iron bonds
Of military sway. The shifting aims,
The moral interests, the creative might,
The varied functions and high attributes
Of civil action, yielded to a power
Formal, and odious, and contemptible.
In Britain, ruled a panic dread of change;
The weak were praised, rewarded, and advanced;
And, from the impulse of a just disdain,
Once more did I retire into myself.
There feeling no contentment, I resolved
To fly, for safeguard, to some foreign shore,
Remote from Europe; from her blasted hopes;
Her fields of carnage, and polluted air.
Known and familiar, which the vaulted sky
Did, in the placid clearness of the night,
Disclose, had accusations to prefer
Against my peace. Within the cabin stood
That volume-as a compass for the soul-
Revered among the nations. I implored
Its guidance; but the infallible support
Of faith was wanting. Tell me, why refused
To one by storms annoy'd and adverse winds;
Perplex'd with currents; of his weakness sick;
Of vain endeavours tired; and by his own,
And by his nature's, ignorance, dismay'd!
"Long-wish'd for sight, the western world ap-
pear'd;
And, when the ship was moor'd, I leapt ashore
Indignantly-resolved to be a man,
Who, having o'er the past no power, would live
No longer in subjection to the past,
With abject mind-from a tyrannic lord
Inviting penance, fruitlessly endured.
So, like a fugitive, whose feet have clear'd
Some boundary, which his followers may not cross
In prosecution of their deadly chase,
Respiring I look'd round. How bright the sun,
How promising the breeze! Can aught produced
In the old world compare, thought I, for power
And majesty with this gigantic stream,
Sprung from the desert? And behold a city
Fresh, youthful, and aspiring! What are these
To me, or I to them? As much at least
As he desires that they should be, whom winds
And waves have wafted to this distant shore,
In the condition of a damaged seed,
Whose fibres cannot, if they would, take root.
Here may I roam at large; my business is,
Roaming at large, to observe, and not to feel;
And, therefore, not to act-convinced that all
Which bears the name of action, howsoe'er.
Beginning, ends in servitude-still painful,
And mostly profitless. And, sooth to say,
On nearer view, a motley spectacle
Appear'd, of high pretensions-unreproved
"Fresh blew the wind, when o'er the Atlantic But by the obstreperous voice of higher still; main
The ship went gliding with her thoughtless crew;
And who among them but an exile, freed
From discontent, indifferent, pleased to sit
Among the busily employ'd, not more
With obligation charged, with service tax'd,
Than the loose pendant-to the idle wind
Upon the tall mast streaming: but, ye powers
Of soul and sense-mysteriously allied,
O, never let the wretched, if a choice
Be left him, trust the freight of his distress
To a long voyage on the silent deep!
For, like a plague, will memory break out;
And, in the blank and solitude of things,
Upon his spirit, with a fever's strength,
Will conscience prey. Feebly must they have felt
Who, in old time, attired with snakes and whips
The vengeful furies. Beautiful regards
Were turn'd on me-the face of her I loved;
The wife and mother, pitifully fixing
Tender reproaches, insupportable!
Where now that ooasted liberty? No welcome
From unknown objects I received; and those,
Big passions strutting on a petty stage;
Which a detach'd spectator may regard
Not unamused. But ridicule demands
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 demon's suitable,
Of all unsocial courses, is least fit
For the gross spirit of mankind,—the one
That soonest fails to please, and quickliest turns
Into vexation. Let us, then, I said,
Leave this unknit republic to the scourge
Of her own passions; and to regions haste,
Whose shades have never felt th' encroaching axe,
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 overpower'd 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 gain'd 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 th' un violated woods
I bent my way; and, roaming far and wide,
Fail'd 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, appear'd
A creature, squalid, vengeful, and impure;
Remorseless, and submissive to no law
But superstitious fear, and abject sloth.
Enough is told! Here am I. Ye have heard
What evidence I seek, and vainly seck;
What from my fellow beings I require,
And cannot find; what I myself have lost,
Nor can regain. How languidly I look
"A man is supposed to improve by going out into the world, by visiting London. Artificial man does; he extends with his sphere; but, alas! that sphere is microscopic: it is formed of minutiæ, and he surrenders his genuine vision to the artist, in order to embrace it In his ken. His bodily senses grow acute, even to barren and inhuman pruriency; while his mental become proportionally obtuse. The reverse is the man of mind: He who is placed in the sphere of nature and of God, might be a mock at Tattersall's and Brookes's, and a sneer at St. James's: he would certainly be swallowed alive by the first Pizarro that crossed him:-But when he walks along the river of Amazons; when he rests his eye on the unrivalled Andes; when he measures the long and watered Savannah; or contemplates, from a sudden promontory, the distant, vast Pacific-and feels himself a freeman in this vast theatre, and commanding each ready produced fruit of this wilderness, and each progeny of this stream-His exultation is not less than imperial. He is as gentle, too, as he is great. His emotions of tenderness keep pace with his elevation of sentiment; for he says, 'These were made by a good Being, who, unsought by me, placed me here to enjoy them.' He becomes at once a child and a king. His mind is in himself: from hence he argues, and from hence he acts, and he argues unerringly, and acts magisterially: His mind in himself is also in his God; and therefore he loves, and therefore he soars."-From the Notes upon the Hurricane, a poem, by William Gilbert.
The reader, I am sure, will thank me for the above quotation, which. though from a strange book, is one of the finest passages of modern English prose.
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
Whoe'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, and rocks, 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 soften'd ar, a 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 pass'd; and quickly
That respite o'er, like traverses and toils
Must be again encounter'd. Such a stream
Is human life; and so the spirit fares
In the best quiet to its course allow'd;
And such is mine,-save only for a hope
That my particular current soon will reach
The unfathomable gulf, where all is still!
State of feeling produced by the foregoing narrative A belief in a superintending Providence the only ade quate support under affliction. Wanderer's ejacula tion. Account of his own devotional feelings in youth involved. Acknowledges the difficulty of a lively faith. Hence immoderate sorrow. Doubt or despond. ence not therefore to be inferred. Consolation to the solitary. Exhortations. How received. Wanderer applies his discourse to that other cause of dejection in the solitary's mind. Disappointment from the French revolution. States grounds of hope. Insists on the necessity of patience and fortitude with respect to the course of great revolutions. Knowledge the source of tranquillity. Rural solitude favourable to knowledg of the inferior creatures. Study of their habits and ways recommended. Exhortation to bodily exertion and communion with nature. Morbid solitude pitiable. Superstition better than apathy. Apathy and destitution unknown in the infancy of society. The various modes of religion prevented it. Illustrated in the Jewish, Persian, Babylonian, Chaldean, and Grecian modes of belief. Solitary interposes. Wanderer points out the influence of religious and imaginative feeling in the humble ranks of society. Illustrated from present and past times. These principles tend t recall exploded superstitions and popery. Wanderer rebuts this charge, and contrasts the dignities of the imagination with the presumptive littleness of certain modern philosophers. Recommends other lights and guides. Asserts the power of the soul to regenerate herself. Solitary asks how. Reply. Personal appeal. Happy that the imagination and the affections mitigate the evils of that intellectual slavery which the cal culating understanding is apt to produce. Exhortation to activity of body renewed. How to commune with Wanderer concludes with a legitimate union
of the Imagination, affections, understanding, and reason. Effect of his discourse. Evening. Return to the cottage.
HERE closed the tenant of that lonely vale
His mournful narrative-commenced in pain,
In nain commenced, and ended without peace:
Yet temper'd, not unfrequently, with strains
Of native feeling, grateful to our minds;
And doubtless yielding some relief to his,
While we sate listening with compassion due.
Such pity yet surviving, with firm voice
That did not falter though the heart was moved,
The wanderer said-
"One adequate support
For the calamities of mortal life
Exists, one only; an assured belief
That the procession of our fate, howe'er
Sad or disturb'd, is order'd by a Being
Of infinite benevolence and power;
Whose everlasting purposes embrace
All accidents, converting them to good.
The darts of anguish fix not where the seat
Of suffering hath been thoroughly fortified
By acquiescence in the will supreme
For time and for eternity; by faith,
Faith absolute in God, including hope,
And the defence that lies in boundless love
Of his perfections; with habitual dread
Of aught unworthily conceived, endured
Impatiently; ill-done, or left undone,
To the dishonour of his holy name.
Soul of our souls, and safeguard of the world
Sustain, thou only canst, the sick of heart;
Restore their languid spirits, and recall
Their lost affections unto thee and thine !"
Then as we issued from that covert nook,
He thus continued, lifting up his eyes
To heaven, "How beautiful this dome of sky,
And the vast hills, in fluctuation fix'd
At thy command, how awful! Shall the soul,
Human and rational, report of thee
E'en less than these? Be mute who will, who can,
Yet I will praise thee with impassion'd voice;
My lips, that may forget thee in the crowd,
Cannot forget thee here; where thou hast built,
For thy own glory, in the wilderness!
Me didst thou constitute a priest of thine,
In such a temple as we now behold
Rear'd for thy presence; therefore, am I bound
To worship, here, and everywhere, as one
Not doom'd to ignorance, though forced to tread,
From childhood up, the ways of poverty;
From unreflecting ignorance preserved,
And from debasement rescued. By thy grace
The particle divine remain'd unquenchi1;
And, 'mid the wild weeds of a rugged soil,
Thy bounty caused to flourish deathless flowers,
From paradise transplanted; wintry age
Impends; the frost will gather round my heart;
And, if they wither, I am worse than dead!
Corne, labour, when the worn-out frame requires
Perpetual Sabbath; come, disease and want;
And sad exclusion through decay of sense;
But leave me unabated trust in Thee,
And let thy favour, to the end of life,
Inspire me with ability to seek
Repose and hope among eternal thingsFather of heaven and earth! and I am rich, And will possess my portion in content!
"And what are things eternal? Powers depart," The gray-hair'd wanderer steadfastly replied, Answering the question which himself had ask'd, "Possessions vanish, and opinions change, And passions hold a fluctuating seat: But, by the storms of circumstance unshaken, And subject neither to eclipse nor wane, Duty exists; immutably survive, For our support, the measures and the forms, Which an abstract intelligence supplies; Whose kingdom is, where time and space are not, Of other converse which mind, soul, and heart, Do, with united urgency, require.
What more that may not perish? Thou, dread
Prime, self-existing cause and end of all,
That, in the scale of being fill their place,
Above our human region, or below,
Set and sustain'd; Thou, who didst wrap the cloud
Of infancy around us, that thyself,
Therein, with our simplicity a while
Might'st hold, on earth, communion undisturb'd -
Who from the anarchy of dreaming sleep,
Or from its deathlike void, with punctual care,
And touch as gentle as the morning light,
Restorest us daily to the powers of sense,
And reason's steadfast rule,-Thou, thou alone
Art everlasting, and the blessed spirits,
Which thou includest, as the sea her waves:
For adoration thou endurest; endure
For consciousness the motions of thy will;
For apprehension those transcendent truths
Of the pure intellect, that stand as laws,
(Submission constituting strength and power,)
E'en to thy being's infinite majesty !
This universe shall pass away-a work
Glorious! because the shadow of thy might,
A step, or link, for intercourse with thee.
Ah! if the time must come, in which my feet
No more shall stray where meditation leads,
By flowing stream, through wood, or craggy wild,
Loved haunts like these, the unimprison'd mind
May yet have scope to range among her own,
Her thoughts, her images, her high desires.
If the dear faculty of sight should fail,
Still, it may be allow'd me to remember
What visionary powers of eye and soul
In youth were mine; when, station'd on the top
Of some huge hill, expectant, I beheld
The sun rise up, from distant climes return'd
Darkness to chase, and sleep, and bring the day
His bounteous gift! or saw him toward the deep
Sink, with a retinue of flaming clouds
Attended; then, my spirit was entranced
With joy exalted to beatitude;
The measure of my soul was fill'd with bliss,
And holiest love; as earth, sea, air, with light,
With pomp, with glory, with magnificence!
"Those fervent raptures are for ever flown;
And, since their date, my soul hath undergone
Change manifold, for better or for worse;
Yet cease I not to struggle, and aspire
Heavenward; and chide the part of me that flags
Througn sinful choice; or dread necessity,
On human nature from above imposed.
'Tis, by comparison, an easy task
Earth to despise; but to converse with Heaven,
This is not easy; to relinquish all
We have, or hope, of happiness and joy,
And stand in freedom loosen'd from this world,
I deem not arduous; but must needs confess
That 'tis a thing impossible to frame
Conceptions equal to the soul's desires;
And the most difficult of tasks to keep
Heights which the soul is competent to gain.
Man is of dust: ethereal hopes are his,
Which, when they should sustain themselves
aloft
Want due consistence; like a pillar of smoke,
That with majestic energy from earth
Rises; but, having reach'd the thinner air,
Melts, and dissolves, and is no longer seen.
From this infirmity of mortal kind
Sorrow proceeds, which else were not; at least,
If grief be something hallow'd and ordain'd,
If, in proportion, it be just and meet,
Through this, 'tis able to maintain its hold,
In that excess which conscience disapproves.
For who could sink and settle to that point
Of selfishness: so senseless who could be
As long and perseveringly to mourn
For any object of his love, removed
From this unstable world, if he could fix
A satisfying view upon that state
Of pure, imperishable blessedness,
Which reason promises, and holy writ
Ensures to all believers? Yet mistrust
Is of such incapacity, methinks,
No natural branch; despondency far less.
And, if there be whose tender frames have droop'd
E'en to the dust; apparently, through weight
Of anguish unrelieved, and lack of power
An agonizing sorrow to transmute,
Infer not hence a hope from those withheld
When wanted most; a confidence impair'd
So pitiably, that, having ceased to see
With bodily eyes, they are borne down by love
Of what is lost, and perish through regret.
O! no, full oft th' innocent sufferer sees
Too clearly; feels too vividly; and longs
To realize the vision, with intense
And over-constant yearning-there-there lies
Th'
excess, by which the balance is destroy'd.
Too, too contracted are these walls of flesh,
This vital warmth too cold, these visual orbs,
Though inconceivably endow'd, too dim
For any passion of the soul that leads
To ecstasy; and, all the crooked paths
Of time and change disdaining, takes its course
Along the line of limitless desires.
I speaking now from such disorder free,
Nor rapt, nor craving, but in settled peace.
I cannot doubt that they whom you deplore
Are glorified; or, if they sleep, shall wake
From sleep, and dwell with God in endless love.
Hope, below this, consists not with belief
In mercy, carried infinite degrees
Beyond the tenderness of human hearts:
Hope, below this consis's not with belief
In perfect wisdom, guiding mightiest power,
That finds no limits but her own pure will.
"Here then we rest: not fearing for our creed
The worst that human reasoning can achieve,
T'unsettle or perplex it; yet with pain
Acknowledging, and grievous self-reprcach,
That, though immovably convinced, we want
Zeal, and the virtue to exist by faith
As soldiers live by courage: as, by strength
Of heart, the sailor fights with roaring seas.
Alas! th' endowment of immortal power
Is match'd unequally with custom, time,
And domineering faculties of sense
In all; in most with superadded foes,
Idle temptations, open vanities,
Ephemeral offspring of th' unblushing world;
And, in the private regions of the mind,
Ill govern'd passions, ranklings of despite,
Immoderate wishes, pining discontent,
Distress and care. What then remains? To seek
Those helps, for his occasions ever near,
Who lacks not will to use them; vows, renew'd
On the first motion of a holy thought;
Vigils of contemplation; praise; and prayer,
A stream, which, from the fountain of the heart
Issuing, however feebly, nowhere flows
Without access of unexpected strength.
But, above all, the victory is most sure
For him, who, seeking faith by virtue, strives
To yield entire submission to the law
Of conscience; conscience reverenced and obey'd
As God's most intimate presence in the soul,
And his most perfect image in the world.
Endeavour thus to live; these rules regard;
These helps solicit; and a steadfast seat
Shall then be yours among the happy few
Who dwell on earth, yet breathe empyreal air,
Sons of the morning. For your nobler part,
Ere disencumber'd of ner mortal chains,
Doubt shall be quell'd and trouble chased away;
With only such degree of sadness left
As may support longings of pure desire;
And strengthen love, rejoicing secretly
In the sublime attractions of the grave."
While, in this strain, the venerable sage
Pour'd forth his aspirations, and announced
His judgments, near that lonely house we pacca
A plot of greensward, seemingly preserved
By nature's care from wreck of scatter'd stones,
And from encroachment of encircling heath:
Small space! but, for reiterated steps,
Smooth and commodious; as a stately deck
Which to and fro the mariner is used
To tread for pastime, talking with his mates
Or haply thinking of far-distant friends,
While the ship glides before a steady breeze.
Stillness prevail'd around us; and the voice,
That spake, was capable to lift the soul
Toward regions yet more tranquil. But, methough
That he, whose fix'd despondency had given
Impulse and motive to that strong discourse,
Was less upraised in spirit than abash'd,
Shrinking from admonition, like a man
Who feels, that to exhort is to reproach.
Yet not to be diverted from his aim,
The sage continued: "For that other loss,
The loss of confidence in social man,
By th' unexpected transports of our age
Carried so high, that every thought, which look'd
Beyond the temporal destiny of the kind
To many seem'd superfluous: as, no cause
For such exalted confidence could e'er
Exist; so none is now for fix'd despair;
The two extremes are equally disown'd
By reason; if, with sharp recoil, from one
You have been driven far as its opposite,
Between them seek the point whereon to build
Sound expectations. So doth he advise
Who shared at first the illusion; but was soon
Cast from the pedestal of pride by shocks
Which nature gently gave, in woods and fields;
Nor unreproved by Providence, thus speaking
To the inattentive children of the world,
"Vainglorious generation! what new powers
On you have been conferr'd? what gifts, withheld
From your progenitors, have ye received,
Fit recompense of new desert? what claim
Are ye prepared to urge, that my decrees
For you should undergo a sudden change;
And the weak functions of one busy day,
Reclaiming and extirpating, perform
What all the slowly moving years of time,
With their united force, have left undone ?
By nature's gradual processes be taught;
By story be confounded! Ye aspire
Rashly, to fall once more; and that false fruit
Which to your overweening spirits, yields
Hope of a flight celestial, will produce
Misery and shame. But wisdom of her sons
Shall not the less, though late, be justified.'
Such timely warning," said the wanderer, "gave
That visionary voice; and, at this day,
When a Tartarean darkness overspreads
The groaning nations; when the impious rule,
By will or by establish'd ordinance,
Their own dire agents, and constrain the good
To acts which they abhor; though I bewail
This triumph, yet the pity of my heart
Prevents me not from owning, that the law,
By which mankind now suffers, is most just.
For by superior energies; more strict
Affiance in each other; faith more firm
In their unhallow'd principles; the bad
Have fairly earn'd a victory o'er the weak,
The vacillating, inconsistent good.
Therefore, not unconsoled, I wait-in hope
To see the moment, when the righteous cause
Shall gain defenders zealous and devout
As they who have opposed her; in which virtue
Will, to her efforts, tolerate no bounds
That are not lofty as her rights; aspiring
By impulse of her own ethereal zeal.
That Spirit only can redeem mankind;
And when that sacred spirit shall appear,
Then shall our triumph be complete as theirs.
Yet, should this confidence prove vain, the wise
Five still the keeping of their proper peace;
Are guardians of their own tranquillity.
They act, or they recede, observe, and feel;
Knowing the heart of man is set to be
The centre of this world, about the which
Those revolations of disturbances
Still roll; where all the aspects of misery
Predominate whose strong effects are such
As he must bear, being powerless to redress;
And that unless above himself he can
Erect himself, how poor a thing is man!'
"Happy is he who lives to understand--
Not human nature only, but explores
All natures, to the end that he may find
The law that governs each; and where begins
The union, the partition where, that makes
Kind and degree, among all visible beings;
The constitutions, powers, and faculties,
Which they inherit,-cannot step beyond,-
And cannot fall beneath; that do assign
To every class its station and its office,
Through all the mighty commonwealth of things
Up from the creeping plant to sovereign man.
Such converse, if directed by a meek,
Sincere, and humble spirit, teaches love;
For knowledge is delight; and such delight
Breeds love: yet, suited as it rather is
To thought and to the climbing intellect,
It teaches less to love, than to adore;
If that be not indeed the highest love!'
"Yet," said I, tempted here to interpose,
"The dignity of life is not impair'd
By aught that innocently satisfies
The humbler cravings of the heart; and he
Is a still happier man, who, for those heights
Of speculation not unfit, descends;
And such benign affections cultivates
Among the inferior kinds; not merely those
That he may call his own, and which depend,
As individual objects of regard,
Upon his care,-from whom he also looks
For signs and tokens of a mutual bond,-
But others, far beyond this narrow sphere,
Whom, for the very sake of love, he loves.
Nor is it a mean praise of rural life
And solitude, that they do favour most,
Most frequently call forth, and best sustain
These pure sensations; that can penetrate
Th' obstreperous city; on the barren seas
Are not unfelt,—and much might recommend,
How much they might inspirit and endear,
The loneliness of this sublime retreat!"
"Yes," said the sage, resuming the discourse
Again directed to his downcast friend,
If, with the froward will and grovelling soul
Of man offended, liberty is here,
And invitation every hour renew'd,
To mark their placid state, who never heard
Of a command which they have power to break,
Or rule which they are tempted to transgress;
These, with a soothed or elevated heart,
May we behold; their knowledge register;
Observe their ways; and, free from envy, find
Complacence there: but wherefore this to you?
I guess that, welcome to your lonely hearth,
The redbreast feeds in winter from your hand;
A box, perchance, is from your casement hung
For the small wren to build in; not in vain,
The barriers disregarding that surround
This deep abiding-place, before your sight
Mounts on the breeze the butterfly-and soars,
Small creature as she is, from earth's bright flowers
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