These were your words; and, verily, methinks Than when we soar." The Other, not displeased, Promptly replied-" My notion is the same. And I, without reluctance, could decline All act of inquisition whence we rise, And what, when breath hath ceased, we may become. Here are we, in a bright and breathing World! Our origin, what matters it? In lack Of worthier explanation, say at once With the American (a thought which suits The place where now we stand) that certain Men And these were the first Parents of Mankind! Or, if a different image be recalled By the warm sunshine, and the jocund voice As sound; with that blithe race who wore ere-while Had sprung from out the soil whereon they dwelt. But stop!-these theoretic fancies jar On serious minds; for doubtless, in one sense, The theme is serious; then, as Hindoos draw Even so deduce the Stream of human Life From seats of Power divine; and hope, or trust, That our Existence winds its stately course Beneath the Sun, like Ganges, to make part Of a living Ocean: or, if such may seem Its tendency, to be engulphed and lost Like Niger, in impenetrable sands And utter darkness: thought which may be faced, In me, a meekly-bending spirit-soothed By philosophic discipline prepared (Save some remembrances of dream-like joys That scarcely seem to have belonged to me) A better state than waking; death than sleep: Yet be it said, in justice to myself, game pursued With curious subtilty, thereby to cheat In feeding thought, wherever thought could feed; Who, in this frame of human life, perceive An object whereunto their souls are tied From me, those dark, impervious shades, that hang Exclude a power to enjoy the vital beams On wings, angelic Spirits, I could muse By flowers embellished, and by springs refreshed. "How bountiful these elements-compared "With aught, as more desirable and fair, "Devised by Fancy for the Golden Age; "Or the perpetual warbling that prevails "In Arcady, beneath unaltered skies, 66 Through the long year in constant quiet bound, Night hush'd as night, and day serene as day!" -But why this tedious record?-Age we know Is garrulous; and solitude is apt To anticipate the privilege of Age. From far ye come; and surely with a hope Of better entertainment-let us hence!" Loth to forsake the spot, and still more loth To be diverted from our present theme, I said, "My thoughts, agreeing, Sir, with yours, In framing models to improve the scheme A Dreamer yet more spiritless and dull? |