Their tribes, till we behold a spacious plain
Or grassy bottom, all, with little hills-
Their labour-covered, as a Lake with waves ;
Thousands of Cities, in the desart place
Built up of life, and food, and means of life!
Nor wanting here, to entertain the thought,
Creatures, that in communities exist,
Less, as might seem, for general guardianship
Or through dependance upon mutual aid,
Than by participation of delight
And a strict love of fellowship, combined.
What other spirit can it be, that prompts
The gilded summer Flies to mix and weave
Their sports together in the solar beam,
Or in the gloom of twilight hum their joy?
More obviously, the self-same influence rules
The feathered kinds; the Fieldfare's pensive flocks,
The cawing Rooks, and Sea-mews from afar,
Hovering above these inland Solitudes,
Unscattered by the wind, at whose loud call
Their voyage was begun: nor is its power
Unfelt among the sedentary Fowl
That seek yon Pool, and there prolong their stay
In silent congress; or together rouzed
Take flight; while with their clang the air resounds.
And, over all, in that etherial arch
Is the mute company of changeful clouds;
-Bright apparition suddenly put forth
The Rainbow, smiling on the faded storm;
The mild assemblage of the starry heavens;
And the great Sun, earth's universal Lord!
How bountiful is Nature! he shall find
Who seeks not; and to him, who hath not asked,
Large measure shall be dealt. Three sabbath-days
Are scarcely told, since, on a service bent
Of mere humanity, You clomb those Heights;
And what a marvellous and heavenly Shew
Was to your sight revealed! the Swains moved on,
And heeded not; you lingered, and perceived.
There is a luxury in self-dispraise ;
And inward self-disparagement affords
To meditative Spleen a grateful feast.
Trust me, pronouncing on your own desert,
You judge unthankfully; distempered nerves
Infect the thoughts; the languor of the Frame
Depresses the Soul's vigour. Quit your Couch-
Cleave not so fondly to your moody Cell;
Nor let the hallowed Powers, that shed from heaven Stillness and rest, with disapproving eye
Look down upon your taper, through a watch
Of midnight hours, unseasonably twinkling
In this deep Hollow; like a sullen star
Dimly reflected in a lonely pool.
Take courage, and withdraw yourself from ways
That run not parallel to Nature's course.
Rise with the Lark! your Matins shall obtain
Grace, be their composition what it may,
If but with her's performed; climb once again,
Climb every day, those ramparts; meet the breeze
Upon their tops,-adventurous as a Bee
That from your garden thither soars, to feed
On new-blown heath; let yon commanding rock
Be
your frequented Watch-tower; roll the stone
In thunder down the mountains: with all your might
Chase the wild Goat; and, if the bold red Deer
Fly to these harbours, driven by hound and horn
Loud echoing, add your speed to the pursuit:
So, wearied to your Hut shall you return,
And sink at evening into sound repose."
The Solitary lifted towards the hills
An animated eye; and thoughts were mine
Which this ejaculation clothed in words--
"Oh! what a joy it were, in vigorous health,
To have a Body (this our vital Frame
With shrinking sensibility endued,
And all the nice regards of flesh and blood)
And to the elements surrender it
As if it were a Spirit!-How divine,
The liberty, for frail, for mortal man
To roam at large among unpeopled glens
And mountainous retirements, only trod
By devious footsteps; regions consecrate
To oldest time! and, reckless of the storm
That keeps the raven quiet in her nest,
Be as a Presence or a Motion-one
Among the many there; and, while the Mists
Flying, and rainy Vapours, call out Shapes
And Phantoms from the crags and solid earth
As fast as a Musician scatters sounds
Out of an instrument; and, while the Streams
(As at a first creation and in haste
To exercise their untried faculties)
Descending from the region of the clouds
And starting from the hollows of the earth
More multitudinous every moment-rend
way before them, what a joy to roam
An Equal among mightiest Energies;
And haply sometimes with articulate voice,
Amid the deafening tumult, scarcely heard
By him that utters it, exclaim aloud
Be this continued so from day to day,
Nor let it have an end from month to month!"
"Yes," said the Wanderer, taking from my lips
The strain of transport, "whosoe'er in youth
Has, through ambition of his soul, given way
To such desires, and grasped at such delight,
Shall feel the stirrings of them late and long;
In spite of all the weakness that life brings,
Its cares and sorrows; he, though taught to own
The tranquillizing power of time, shall wake,
Wake sometimes to a noble restlessness-
Loving the spots which once he gloried in.
Compatriot, Friend, remote are Garry's Hills,
The Streams far distant of your native Glen;
Yet is their form and Image here express'd
As by a duplicate, at least set forth
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