Of life, of love, and gladness, doth dispense
His beams; which, unexcluded in their fall,
Upon the southern side of every grave
Have gently exercised a melting power,
Then will a vernal prospect greet your eye,
All fresh and beautiful, and green and bright,
Hopeful and cheerful :-vanished is the snow,
Vanished or hidden; and the whole Domain,
To some, too lightly minded, might appear
A meadow carpet for the dancing hours.
-This Contrast, not unsuitable to Life,
Is to that other state more apposite,
Death, and its twofold aspect; wintry-one,
Cold, sullen, blank, from hope and joy shut out;
The other, which the ray divine hath touched,
Replete with vivid promise, bright as spring."
"We see, then, as we feel," the Wanderer thus With a complacent animation spake, "And, in your judgment, Sir! the Mind's repose On evidence is not to be ensured
By act of naked Reason. Moral truth
Is no mechanic structure, built by rule;
And which, once built, retains a steadfast shape And undisturbed proportions; but a thing Subject, you deem, to vital accidents;
And, like the water-lilly, lives and thrives;
Whose root is fixed in stable earth, whose head
Floats on the tossing waves. With joy sincere
I re-salute these sentiments, confirmed
By your authority. But how acquire
The inward principle, that gives effect
To outward argument; the passive will
Meek to admit; the active energy,
Strong and unbounded to embrace, and firm
To keep and cherish? How shall Man unite
A self-forgetting tenderness of heart
And earth-despising dignity of soul?
Wise in that union, and without it blind!”
"The way," said I, "to court, if not obtain The ingenuous Mind, apt to be set aright; This, in the lonely Dell discoursing, you Declared at large; and by what exercise From visible nature or the inner self
Power may be trained, and renovation brought
To those who need the gift. But, after all,
Is aught so certain as that Man is doomed
To breathe beneath a vault of ignorance?
The natural roof of that dark house in which
His soul is pent! How little can be known,
This is the wise man's sigh; how far we err,
This is the good man's not unfrequent pang.
And they perhaps err least, the lowly Class
Whom a benign necessity compels
To follow Reason's least ambitious course;
Such do I mean who, unperplexed by doubt
And unincited by a wish to look
Into high objects farther than they may,
Pace to and fro, from morn till even-tide,
The narrow avenue of daily toil
For daily bread."
"Yes," buoyantly exclaimed The pale Recluse-" praise to the sturdy plough, And patient spade, and shepherd's simple crook, And ponderous loom-resounding while it holds Body and mind in one captivity;
And let the light mechanic tool be hailed
With honour; which, encasing, by the power
Of long companionship, the Artist's hand,
Cuts off that hand, with all its world of nerves,
From a too busy commerce with the heart!
-Inglorious implements of craft and toil,
ye that shape and build, and ye
By slow solicitation, Earth to yield
Her annual bounty, sparingly dealt forth
With wise reluctance, you would I extol
Not for gross good alone which ye produce,
But for the impertinent and ceaseless strife
Of proofs and reasons ye preclude—in those
Who to your dull society are born,
And with their humble birth-right rest content.
-Would I had ne'er renounced it!"
Of moral anger previously had tinged
The Old Man's cheek; but, at this closing turn Of self-reproach, it passed away. Said he, "That which we feel we utter; as we think So have we argued; reaping for our pains No visible recompense. For our relief You," to the Pastor turning thus he spake, "Have kindly interposed. May I entreat
Your further help? The mine of real life
Dig for us; and present us, in the shape
Of virgin ore, that gold which we by pains
Fruitless as those of aery Alchemists
Seek from the torturing crucible. There lies
Around us a Domain where You have long
Held spiritual sway, have guided and consoled,
And watched the outward course and inner heart.
Give us, for our abstractions, solid facts;
For our disputes, plain pictures. Say what Man
He is who cultivates yon hanging field;
What qualities of mind She bears, who comes,
For morn and evening service, with her pail,
To that green pasture; place before our sight
The Family who dwell within yon House
Fenced round with glittering laurel; or in that
Below, from which the curling smoke ascends.
Or rather, as we stand on holy earth
And have the Dead around us, take from them
Your instances; for they are both best known,
And by frail Man most equitably judged.
Epitomize the life; pronounce, You can,
Authentic epitaphs on some of these
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