Upturned, as if his mind were rapt, or lost In peace, from morn to night, from year to year. Him from that posture did the Sexton rouze; Who entered, humming carelessly a tune, Continuation haply of the notes That had beguiled the work from which he came With spade and mattock o'er his shoulder hung; To be deposited, for future need, In their appointed place. The pale Recluse Withdrew; and straight we followed,-to a spot Where sun and shade were intermixed; for there A broad Oak, stretching forth its leafy arms From an adjoining pasture, overhung Small space of that green church-yard with a light And pleasant awning. On the moss-grown wall My ancient Friend and I together took Our seats; and thus the Solitary spake, Standing before us. "Did you note the mien Of that self-solaced, easy-hearted churl, Death's Hireling, who scoops out his Neighbour's grave, Or wraps an old Acquaintance up in clay, As unconcerned as when he plants a tree? Hovered above our destiny on earth; But stoop, and place the prospect of the soul In sober contrast with reality And Man's substantial life. If this mute earth Of yielding its contents to eye and ear, We should recoil, stricken with sorrow and shame, To see disclosed, by such dread proof, how ill Or of the end stops short, proposed to all And, as the heavy cloud of sleep dissolves, To stretch his limbs, bemocking, as might seem, The outward functions of intelligent Man; A grave Proficient in amusive feats Of puppetry, that from the lap declare At the baptismal Font. And when the pure That he, from wrath redeemed, therein shall float Over the billows of this troublesome world To the fair land of everlasting Life. Corrupt affections, covetous desires, Are all renounced; high as the thought of man Can carry virtue, virtue is professed; A dedication made, a promise given For due provision to controul and guide, And unremitting progress to ensure In holiness and truth." "You cannot blame," Here interposing fervently I said, "Rites which attest that Man by nature lies Fearfully low; nor will your judgment scorn That what the Soul perceives, if glory lost, May be through pains and persevering hope Lies within reach, and one day shall be gained." "I blame them not," he calmly answered-" These inward feelings, and the aspiring views Hath mournfully pronounced, then, in my mind, By impulse sent from such illusive Power, That finds and cannot fasten down; that grasps no; |