I turned, that ye in mind might witness where,
And how, her Spirit yet survives on earth!"

Book Sixth, continued in Editions of 1814 and 1820 only.

The next three Ridges-those upon the left--
By close connexion with our present thoughts
Tempt me to add, in praise of humble worth,
Their brief and unobtrusive history.

-One Hillock, ye may note, is small and low,
Sunk almost to a level with the plain

By weight of time; the others, undepressed,
Are bold and swelling. There a Husband sleeps,
Deposited, in pious confidence

Of glorious resurrection with the just,
Near the loved Partner of his early days;
And, in the bosom of that family mold,
A second Wife is gathered to his side;
The approved Assistant of an arduous course
From his mid noon of manhood to old age!
He also of his Mate deprived, was left
Alone-'mid many Children; One a Babe
Orphaned as soon as born. Alas! 'tis not
In course of nature that a Father's wing
Should warm these Little-ones; and can he feed?
That was a thought of agony more keen.
For, hand in hand with Death, by strange mishap
And chance-encounter on their diverse road,
The ghastlier shape of Poverty had entered
Into that House, unfeared and unforeseen.
He had stepped forth, in time of urgent need,
The generous Surety of a Friend: and now
The widowed Father found that all his rights
In his paternal fields were undermined.
Landless he was and pennyless.-The dews
Of night and morn that wet the mountain sides,
The bright stars twinkling on their dusky tops,
Were conscious of the pain that drove him forth
From his own door, he knew not when-to range
He knew not where; distracted was his brain,
His heart was cloven; and full-oft he prayed,
In blind despair, that God would take them all.
-But suddenly, as if in one kind moment

To encourage and reprove, a gleam of light
Broke from the very bosom of that cloud
Which darkened the whole prospect of his days.
For He, who now possessed the joyless right
To force the Bondsman from his house and lands,
In pity, and by admiration urged

Of his unmurmuring and considerate mind
Meekly submissive to the law's decree,
Lightened the penalty with liberal hand.

--The desolate Father raised his head, and looked
On the wide world in hope. Within these walls,
In course of time was solemnized the vow
Whereby a virtuous Woman, of grave years
And of prudential habits, undertook
The sacred office of a wife to him,
Of Mother to his helpless family.

-Nor did she fail, in nothing did she fail,
Through various exercise of twice ten years,
Save in some partial fondness for that Child
Which at the birth she had received, the Babe
Whose heart had known no Mother but herself.
--By mutual efforts; by united hopes;
By daily-growing help of boy and girl,
Trained early to participate that zeal
Of industry, which runs before the day

And lingers after it; by strong restraint

Of an economy which did not check

The heart's more generous motions tow'rds themselves

Or to their neighbours; and by trust in God;

This Pair insensibly subdued the fears

And troubles that beset their life: and thus
Did the good Father and his second Mate
Redeem at length their plot of smiling fields.
These, at this day, the eldest Son retains :
The younger Offspring, through the busy world,
Have all been scattered wide, by various fates;
But each departed from the native Vale,
In beauty flourishing, and moral worth."

Book Seventh.

THE CHURCH-YARD AMONG THE MOUNTAINS-continued.

ARGUMENT.

Impression of these Narratives upon the Author's mind—Pastor invited to give account of certain Graves that lie apart-Clergyman and his Family-Fortunate influence of change of situation-Activity in extreme old age-Another Clergyman, a character of resolute Virtue -Lamentations over mis-directed applause-Instance of less exalted excellence in a deaf man-Elevated character of a blind man-Reflection upon Blindness—Interrupted by a Peasant who passes-his animal cheerfulness and careless vivacity-He occasions a digression on the fall of beautiful and interesting Trees-A female Infant's Grave-Joy at her birth-Sorrow at her Departure—A youthful Peasant-his patriotic enthusiasm and distinguished qualities-his untimely death-Exultation of the Wanderer, as a patriot, in this Picture-Solitary how affected-Monument of a Knight-Traditions concerning him—Peroration of the Wanderer on the transitoriness of things and the revolutions of society-Hints at his own past Calling -Thanks the Pastor.

WHILE thus from theme to theme the Historian passed,
The words he uttered, and the scene that lay
Before our eyes, awakened in my mind
Vivid remembrance of those long-past hours;
When, in the hollow of some shadowy vale,
(What time the splendour of the setting sun
Lay beautiful on Snowdon's sovereign brow,1
On Cader Idris, or huge Penmanmaur)

A wandering Youth, I listened with delight
To pastoral melody or warlike air,*

Drawn from the chords of the ancient British harp
By some accomplished Master, while he sate

* In the end of May and in June 1791, Wordsworth went with his friend Jones on a pedestrian tour in Wales.—ED.

Amid the quiet of the green recess,
And there did inexhaustibly dispense
An interchange of soft or solemn tunes,
Tender or blithe; now, as the varying mood
Of his own spirit urged,—now, as a voice
From youth or maiden, or some honoured chief
Of his compatriot villagers (that hung
Around him, drinking in the impassioned notes
Of the time-hallowed minstrelsy) required
For their heart's ease or pleasure.
Strains of power
Were they, to seize and occupy the sense;
But to a higher mark than song can reach
Rose this pure eloquence. And, when the stream
Which overflowed the soul was passed away,

A consciousness remained that it had left,
Deposited upon the silent shore

Of memory, images and precious thoughts,
That shall not die, and cannot be destroyed.

"These grassy heaps lie amicably close," Said I, "like surges heaving in the wind Along the surface of a mountain pool: Whence comes it, then, that yonder we behold Five graves, and only five, that rise together Unsociably sequestered, and encroaching 2

On the smooth playground of the village-school? ” *

*Note the exactness of the reference to the "playground of the villageschool." It is described as "smooth" because it had no graves in it at that time. "The school," writes Dr Cradock, "was then, and long afterwards,

The Vicar answered," No disdainful pride
In them who rest beneath, nor any course
Of strange or tragic accident, hath helped
To place those hillocks in that lonely guise.

-Once more look forth, and follow with your sight
The length of road that1 from yon mountain's base
Through bare enclosures stretches, 'till its line
Is lost within 2 a little tuft of trees;
Then, reappearing in a moment, quits
The cultured fields; and up the heathy waste,
Mounts, as you see, in mazes serpentine,

3

Led towards an easy outlet of the vale. †
That little shady spot, that sylvan tuft,
By which the road is hidden, also hides
A cottage from our view; though I discern
(Ye scarcely can) amid its sheltering trees
The smokeless chimney-top.—

All unembowered

And naked stood that lowly Parsonage
(For such in truth it is, and appertains
To a small Chapel in the vale beyond)
When hither came its last Inhabitant. ‡

held at the house abutting the Lichgate, and the children had no playground but the churchyard. The portion of the ground nearest the school was not used for burial, until the want of room made it necessary to encroach on it. The oldest tombstone bears the date of 1777.”—ED.

This "tuft of trees" is still standing (1883).—ED.

This road "up the heathy waste," and mounting "in mazes serpentine," is the Keswick road over Dunmail Raise, the "easy outlet of the vale."—ED. The cottage in which the parson of Wytheburn then lived still stands on the right or eastern side of the road, as you ascend the Raise, beyond