Daily, its Bowling-green with harmless strife;
Plagued with uncharitable thoughts the Church;
And vexed 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 lengthened walks
This Church-yard was. And, whether they had come
Treading their path in sympathy and linked
In social converse, or by some short space
Discreetly parted to preserve the peace,
One Spirit seldom failed to extend its sway
Over both minds, when they awhile had marked
The visible quiet of this holy ground
And breathed its soothing air;-the Spirit of hope
And saintly magnanimity; that, spurning
The field of selfish difference and dispute,
And every care which transitory things,
Earth, and the kingdoms of the earth, create,
Doth, by a rapture of forgetfulness,
Preclude forgiveness, from the praise debarred,
Which else the Christian Virtue might have claimed.
-There live who yet remember here to have seen
Their courtly Figures,-seated on the stump
Of an old Yew, their favourite resting-place.
But, as the Remnant of the long-lived Tree
Was disappearing by a swift decay,
They, with joint care, determined to erect,
Upon its site, a Dial, which should stand
For public use; and also might survive
As their own private monument; for this
Was the particular spot, in which they wished,
(And Heaven was pleased to accomplish the desire)
That, undivided, their Remains should lie.
So, where the mouldered Tree had stood, was raised
Yon Structure, framing, with the ascent of steps
That to the decorated Pillar lead,
A work of art, more sumptuous, as might seem,
Than suits this Place; yet built in no proud scorn
Of rustic homeliness; they only aimed
To ensure for it respectful guardianship.
Around the margin of the Plate, whereon
The Shadow falls, to note the stealthy hours
Winds an inscriptive Legend"-At these words
Thither we turned; and, gathered, as we read,
The appropriate sense, in Latin numbers couched.
"Time flies; it is his melancholy task
"To bring, and bear away, delusive hopes,
"And re-produce the troubles he destroys.
"But, while his blindness thus is occupied,
Discerning Mortal! do thou serve the will
"Of Time's eternal Master, and that peace,
"Which the World wants, shall be for Thee confirmed."
"Smooth verse, inspired by no unlettered Muse," Exclaimed the Sceptic," and the strain of thought Accords with Nature's language;-the soft voice Of yon white torrent falling down the rocks Speaks, less distinctly, to the same effect. If, then, their blended influence be not lost Upon our hearts, not wholly lost, I grant, Even upon mine, the more are we required To feel for those, among our fellow men, Who, offering no obeisance to the world,
Are yet made desperate by "too quick a sense
Of constant infelicity"— cut off
From peace like Exiles on some barren rock,
Their life's appointed prison; not more free
Than Centinels, between two armies, set,
With nothing better, in the chill night air,
Than their own thoughts to comfort them.-Say why That ancient story of Prometheus chained?
The Vulture—the inexhaustible repast
Drawn from his vitals! Say what meant the woes
By Tantalus entailed upon
And the dark sorrows of the line of Thebes?
Fictions in form, but in their substance truths,
Tremendous truths! familiar to the men
Of long-past times; nor obsolete in ours.
-Exchange the Shepherd's frock of native
For robes with regal purple tinged; convert
The crook into a sceptre ;-give the pomp
Of circumstance, and here the tragic Muse
Shall find apt subjects for her highest art.
-Amid the groves, beneath the shadowy hills
The generations are prepared; the pangs,
The internal pangs are ready; the dread strife
Of poor humanity's afflicted will
Struggling in vain with ruthless destiny.”
Though," said the Priest in answer, " these be terms
Which a divine philosophy rejects,
We, whose established and unfailing trust
Is in controuling Providence, admit
That through all stations human life abounds
With mysteries,—for if Faith were left untried
How could the might-that lurks within her-then
Be shewn? her glorious excellence—that ranks
Among the first of Powers and Virtues-proved?
Our system is not fashioned to preclude
That sympathy which you for others ask;
And I could tell, not travelling for my theme
Beyond the limits of these humble
Of strange disasters; but I pass them by,
Loth to disturb what heaven hath hushed in peace."
-Still less, far less am I inclined to treat
Of Man degraded in his Maker's sight
By the deformities of brutish vice:
For, though from these materials might be framed
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