Into an instrument of deadly bane
For those, who, yet untempted to forsake
The simple occupations of their sires,
Drink the pure water of its innocent stream
With lip almost as pure. Domestic bliss,
(Or call it comfort, by a humbler name,)
How art thou blighted for the poor man's heart;
Lo in such neighbourhood, from morn to eve,
The habitations empty! or perchance
The mother left alone, no helping hand
To rock the cradle of her peevish babe;
No daughters round her busy at the wheel,
Or in despatch of each day's little growth
Of household occupation; no nice arts
Of needle-work; no bustle at the fire,
Where once the dinner was prepared with pride;
Nothing to speed the day, or cheer the mind;
Nothing to praise, to teach, or to command;
The father, if perchance he still retain
His old employments, goes to field or wood,
No longer led or followed by the sons;
Idlers perchance they were, but in his sight;
Breathing fresh air, and treading the green earth;
fill their short holyday of childhood ceased,
Ne'er to return! That birthright now is lost.
Economists will tell you that the state
Thrives by the forfeiture,-unfeeling thought,
And false as monstrous! Can the mother thrive
By the destruction of her innocent sons?
In whom a premature necessity

Blocks out the forms of nature, preconsumes
The reason, famishes the heart, shuts up
The infant being in itself, and makes
Its very spring a season of decay!
The lot is wretched, the condition sad,
Whether a pining discontent survive,

And thirst for change; or habit hath subdued
The soul deprest, dejected-even to love
Of her dull tasks, and close captivity.
O, banish far such wisdom as condemns
A native Briton to these inward chains,
Fix'd in his soul, so early and so deep,
Without his own consent, or knowledge, fix'd!
He is a slave to whom release comes not,
And cannot come. The boy, where'er he turns,
Is still a prisoner; when the wind is up
Among the clouds and in the ancient woods;
Or when the sun is shining in the east,
Quiet and calm. Behold him, in the school
Of his attainments? no; but with the air
Fanning his temples under heaven's blue arch.
His raiment whiten'd o'er with cotton flakes,
Or locks of wool, announces whence he comes.
Creeping his gait and cowering, his lip pale,
His respiration quick and audible;

And scarcely could you fancy that a gleam
From out those languid eyes could break, or blush
Mantle upon his cheek. Is this the form,
Is that the countenance, and such the port,
Of no mean being? One who should be clothed
With dignity befitting his proud hope;
Who, in his very childhood, should appear
Sublime, from present purity and joy?
The limbs increase, but liberty of mind
Is gone for ever; this organic frame,
So joyful in her motions, is become

Dull, to the joy of her own motions dead;
And e'en the touch, so exquisitely pour'd
Through the whole body, with a languid will
Performs her functions; rarely competent
T'impress a vivid feeling on the mind
Of what there is delightful in the breeze,
The gentle visitations of the sun,

Or lapse of liquid element, by hand,

Or foot, or lip, in summer's warmth, perceived.
Can hope look forward to a manhood raised
On such foundations ?"

"Hope is none for him!" The pale recluse indignantly exclaim'a, "And tens of thousands suffer wrong as deep. Yet be it ask'd, in justice to our age,

If there were not, before those arts appear'd,
These structures rose, commingling old and young,
And unripe sex with sex, for mutual taint;
Then, if there were not in our far-famed isle,
Multitudes, who from infancy had breathed
Air unimprisoned, and had lived at large;
Yet walk'd beneath the sun, in human shape,
As abject, as degraded? At this day,
Who shall enumerate the crazy huts
And tottering hovels, whence do issue forth
A ragged offspring, with their own blanch'd hair
Crown'd like the image of fantastic fear;

Or wearing, we might say, in that white growth
An ill-adjusted turban, for defence

Or fierceness, wreathed around their sunburnt brows,

By savage nature's unassisted care.

Naked, and coloured like the soil, the feet
On which they stand; as if thereby they drew
Some nourishment, as trees do by their roots,
From earth the common mother of us all.
Figure and mien, complexion and attire,

Are leagued to strike dismay, but outstretch'd hand
And whining voice denote them supplicants
For the least boon that pity can bestow.
Such on the breast of darksome heaths are found;
And with their parents dwell upon the skirts
Of furze-clad commons; such are born and rear'd
At the mine's mouth, beneath impending rocks,
Or in the chambers of some natural cave;
And where their ancestors erected huts,
For the convenience of unlawful gain,
In forest purlieus; and the like are bred,
All England through, where nooks and slips of
ground,

Purloin'd, in times less jealous than our own,
From the green margin of the public way,
A residence afford them, 'mid the bloom
And gayety of cultivated fields.

Such (we will hope the lowest in the scale)
Do I remember oft-times to have seen
'Mid Buxton's dreary heights. Upon the watch,
Till the swift vehicle approach, they stand;
Then, following closely with the cloud of dust,
An uncouth feat exhibit, and are gone
Heels over head, like tumblers on a stage.
Up from the ground they snatch the copper coin
And, on the freight of merry passengers
Fixing a steady eye, maintain their speed;
And spin-and pant-and overhead again,
Wild pursuivants! until their breath is lost,

That charm all eyes. So bright, so fair, appear'd
This goodly matron, shining in the beams
Of unexpected pleasure. Soon the board
Was spread, and we partook a plain repast.
Here, resting in cool shelter, we beguiled
The midday hours with desultory talk;
From trivial themes to general argument
Passing, as accident or fancy led,

Or courtesy prescribed. While question rose
And answer flow'd, the fetters of reserve
Dropping from every mind, the solitary
Resumed the manners of his happier days;
And, in the various conversation, bore
A willing, nay, at times, a forward part:
Yet with the grace of one who in the world
Had learn'd the art of pleasing, and had now
Occasion given him to display his skill,
Upon the steadfast vantage-ground of truth.
He gazed with admiration unsuppress'd
Upon the landscape of the sunbright vale,
Seen, from the shady room in which we sate,
In soften'd perspective; and more than once
Praised the consummate harmony serene
Of gravity and elegance-diffused
Around the mansion and its whole domain;
Not, doubtless, without help of female taste
And female care. "A blessed lot is yours!"
The words escaped his lip with a tender sigh
Breathed over them; but suddenly the door
Flew open, and a pair of lusty boys
Appear'd, confusion checking their delight.
Not brothers they in feature or attire,
But fond companions, so I guess'd, in field,
And by the river's margin, whence they come,
Anglers elated with unusual spoil.
One bears a willow pannier on his back,
The boy of plainer garb, whose blush survives
More deeply tinged. Twin might the other be
To that fair girl who from the garden mount
Bounded triumphant entry this for him!
Between his hands he holds a smooth blue stone,
On whose capacious surface see outspread
Large store of gleaming crimson-spotted trouts;
Ranged side by side, and lessening by degrees
Up to the dwarf that tops the pinnacle.
Upon the board he lays the sky-blue stone
With its rich freight:-their number he proclaims;
Tells from what pool the noblest had been dragg'd;
And where the very monarch of the brook,
After long struggle, had escaped at last-
Stealing alternately at them and us
(As doth his comrade too) a look of pride;
And, verily, the silent creatures made
A splendid sight, together thus exposed;
Dead-but not sullied or deform'd by death,
That seem'd to pity what he could not spare.
But O, the animation in the mien

Of those two boys! yea, in the very words
With which the young narrator was inspired,
When, as our questions led, he told at large
Of that day's prowess. Him might I compare,
His look, tones, gestures, eager eloquence,
To a bold brook that splits for better speed,
And, at the selfsame moment, works its way
Through many channels, ever and anon
Parted and reunited: his compeer

To the still lake, whose stillness is to sight

As beautiful, as grateful to the mind.
But to what object shall the lovely girl

Be liken'd? She, whose countenance and air
Unite the graceful qualities of both,

E'en as she shares the pride and joy of both.
My gray-hair'd friend was moved: his vivid eye
Glisten'd with tenderness; his mind, I knew,
Was full; and had, I doubted not, return'd,
Upon this impulse, to the theme-erewhile
Abruptly broken off. The ruddy boys
Withdrew, on summons, to their well-earn'd meal;
And he, (to whom all tongues resign'd their rights
With willingness, to whom the general ear
Listen'd with readier patience than to strain
Of music, lute or harp,-a long delight

That ceased not when his voice had ceased,) as ne
Who from truth's central point serenely views
The compass of his argument-began
Mildly, and with a clear and steady tone.

BOOK IX.

DISCOURSE OF THE WANDERER, AND AN EVENING VISIT TO THE LAKE.

ARGUMENT.

Wanderer asserts that an active principle pervades the universe. Its noblest seat the human soul. How lively this principle is in childhood. Hence the delight in old age of looking back upon childhood. The dignity, powers, and privileges of age asserted. These not to be looked for generally but under a just government Right of a human creature to be exempt from being considered as a mere instrument. Vicious inclinations are best kept under by giving good ones an opportunity to show themselves. The condition of multitudes deplored, from want of due respect to this truth on the part of their superiors in society. Former conversation recurred to, and the wanderer's opinions set in a clearer light. Genuine principles of equality. Truth placed within reach of the humblest. Happy state of the two boys again adverted to. Earnest wish expressed for a system of national education established universally by government. Glorious effects of this foretold. Wanderer breaks off. Walk to the lake. Embark. Description of scenery and amusements. Grand spectacle from the side of a hill. Address of priest to the Supreme Being; in the course of which he contrasts with ancient barbarism the present appearance of the scene before him. The change ascribed to Christianity. Apostrophe to his flock, living and dead. Gratitude to the Almighty. Return over the lake. Parting with the solitary. Under what circumstances.

"To every form of being is assign'd,"
Thus calmly spake the venerable sage,
"An active principle:-howe'er removed
From sense and observation, it subsists
In all things, in all natures, in the stars
Of azure heaven, the unenduring clouds,
In flower and tree, in every pebbly stone
That paves the brooks, the stationary rocks,
The moving waters, and th' invisible air.
Whate'er exists hath properties that spread
Beyond itself, communicating good
A simple blessing, or with evil mix'd;
Spirit that knows no insulated spot,
No chasm, no solitude; from link to link
It circulates, the soul of all the worlds.

This is the freedom of the universe; Unfolded still the more, more visible,

The more we know; and yet is reverenced least,
And least respected, in the human mind,
Its most apparent home. The food of hope
Is meditated action; robb'd of this
Her sole support, she languishes and dies.
We perish also; for we live by hope
And by desire; we see by the glad light,
And breathe the sweet air of futurity,
And so we live, or else we have no life.
To-morrow-nay, perchance this very hour,—
(For every moment hath its own to-morrow!)
Those blooming boys, whose hearts are almost sick
With present triumph, will be sure to find
A field before them freshen'd with the dew
Of other expectations;-in which course
Their happy year spins round. The youth obeys
A like glad impulse; and so moves the man
'Mid all his apprehensions, cares, and fears;
Or so he ought to move. Ah! why in age
Do we revert so fondly to the walks

Of childhood, but that there the soul discerns
The dear memorial footsteps unimpair'd
Of her own native vigour, thence can hear
Reverberations, and a choral song,
Commingling with the incense that ascends
Undaunted, toward the imperishable heavens,
From her own lonely altar? Do not think
That good and wise ever will be allow'd,
Though strength decay, to breathe in such estate
As shall divide them wholly from the stir
Of hopeful nature. Rightly is it said
That man descends into the VALE of years;
Yet have I thought that we might also speak,
And not presumptuously, I trust, of age,
As of a final EMINENCE, though bare
In aspect and forbidding, yet a point
On which 'tis not impossible to sit

In awful sovereignty-a place of power-
A throne, that may be liken'd unto his,
Who, in some placid day of summer, looks
Down from a mountain top,-say one of those
High peaks that bound the vale where now we are,
Faint, and diminish'd to the gazing eye,
Forest and field, and hill and dale appear,
With all the shapes upon their surface spread:
But, while the gross and visible frame of things
Relinquishes its hold upon the sense,
Yea almost on the mind herself, and seems
All unsubstantialized, how loud the voice
Of waters, with invigorated peal
From the full river in the vale below,
Ascending! For on that superior height
Who sits, is disencumber'd from the press
Of near obstructions, and is privileged
To breathe in solitude above the host
Of ever-humming insects, 'mid thin air

That suits not them. The murmur of the leaves,
Many and idle, visits not his ear;

This he is freed from, and from thousand notes
Not less unceasing, not less vain than these,-
By which the finer passages of sense

Are occupied; and the seul, that would incline
To listen, is prevented or deterr'd.

"And may it not be hoped, that, placed by age

In like removal tranquil though severe,

We are not so removed for utter loss;
But for some favour, suited to our need?
What more than that the severing should confer
Fresh power t' commune with the invisible world,
And hear the mighty stream of tendency
Uttering, for elevation of our thought,

A clear sonorous voice, inaudible

To the vast multitude: whose doom it is
To run the giddy round of vain delight,
Or fret and labour on the plain below.

"But, if to such sublime ascent the hopes
Of man may rise, as to a welcome close
And termination of his mortal course,
Them only can such hope inspire whose minds
Have not been starved by absolute neglect;
Nor bodies crush'd by unremitting toil;
To whom kind nature, therefore, may afford
Proof of the sacred love she bears for all;
Whose birthright reason, therefore, may ensure.
For me, consulting what I feel within

In times when most existence with herself
Is satisfied, I cannot but believe,

That, far as kindly nature hath free scope
And reason's sway predominates, e'en so far,
Country, society, and time itself,

That saps the individual's bodily frame,
And lays the generations low in dust,
Do, by the Almighty Ruler's grace, partake
Of one maternal spirit, bringing forth
And cherishing with ever-constant love,
That tires not, nor betrays. Our life is turn'd
Out of her course, wherever man is made
An offering or a sacrifice, a tool

Or implement, a passive thing employ'd
As a brute mean, without acknowledgment
Of common right or interest in the end;
Used or abused, as selfishness may prompt.
Say, what can follow for a rational soul
Perverted thus, but weakness in all good,
And strength in evil? Hence an after call
For chastisement, and custody, and bonds,
And oft-times death, avenger of the past,
And the sole guardian in whose hands we dare
Intrust the future. Not for these sad issues
Was man created; but t' obey the law
Of life, and hope, and action. And 'tis known
That when we stand upon our native soil,
Unelbow'd by such objects as oppress

Our active powers, those powers themselves become
Strong to subvert our noxious qualities:
They sweep distemper from the busy day,
And make the chalice of the big round year
Run o'er with gladness; whence the being moves
In beauty through the world; and all who see
Bless him, rejoicing in his neighbourhood.”

"Then," said the solitary, "by what force
Of language shall a feeling heart express
Her sorrow for that multitude in whom
We look for health from seeds that have been sown
In sickness, and for increase in a power
That works but by extinction? On themselves
They cannot lean, nor turn to their own hearts
To know what they must do: their wisdom is
To look into the eyes of others, thence
To be instructed what they must avoid: