Persuasively The Sage Replied, "That For This Arduous Office You Possess Some Rare Advantages. Your Early Days A Grateful Recollection Must Supply Of Much Exalted Good By Heaven Vouchsafed To Dignify The Humblest State. Your Voice Hath, In My Hearing, Often Testified That Poor Men'S Children, They, And They Alone, By Their Condition Taught, Can Understand The Wisdom Of The Prayer That Daily Asks For Daily Bread. A Consciousness Is Yours How Feelingly Religion May Be Learned In Smoky Cabins, From A Mother'S Tongue Heard Where The Dwelling Vibrates To The Din Of The Contiguous Torrent, Gathering Strength At Every Moment And, With Strength, Increase Of Fury; Or, While Snow Is At The Door, Assaulting And Defending, And The Wind, A Sightless Labourer, Whistles At His Work Fearful; But Resignation Tempers Fear, And Piety Is Sweet To Infant Minds. The Shepherd-Lad, That In The Sunshine Carves, On The Green Turf, A Dial To Divide The Silent Hours; And Who To That Report Can Portion Out His Pleasures, And Adapt, Throughout A Long And Lonely Summer'S Day His Round Of Pastoral Duties, Is Not Left With Less Intelligence For 'Moral' Things Of Gravest Import. Early He Perceives, Within Himself, A Measure And A Rule, Which To The Sun Of Truth He Can Apply, That Shines For Him, And Shines For All Mankind. Experience Daily Fixing His Regards On Nature'S Wants, He Knows How Few They Are, And Where They Lie, How Answered And Appeased. This Knowledge Ample Recompense Affords For Manifold Privations; He Refers His Notions To This Standard; On This Rock Rests His Desires; And Hence, In After Life, Soul-Strengthening Patience, And Sublime Content. Imagination Not Permitted Here To Waste Her Powers, As In The Worldling'S Mind, On Fickle Pleasures, And Superfluous Cares, And Trivial Ostentation Is Left Free And Puissant To Range The Solemn Walks Of Time And Nature, Girded By A Zone That, While It Binds, Invigorates And Supports. Acknowledge, Then, That Whether By The Side Of His Poor Hut, Or On The Mountain Top, Or In The Cultured Field, A Man So Bred (Take From Him What You Will Upon The Score Of Ignorance Or Illusion) Lives And Breathes For Noble Purposes Of Mind: His Heart Beats To The Heroic Song Of Ancient Days; His Eye Distinguishes, His Soul Creates. And Those Illusions, Which Excite The Scorn Or Move The Pity Of Unthinking Minds, Are They Not Mainly Outward Ministers Of Inward Conscience? With Whose Service Charged They Came And Go, Appeared And Disappear, Diverting Evil Purposes, Remorse Awakening, Chastening An Intemperate Grief, Or Pride Of Heart Abating: And, WheNe'er For Less Important Ends Those Phantoms Move, Who Would Forbid Them, If Their Presence Serve On Thinly-Peopled Mountains And Wild Heaths, Filling A Space, Else Vacant To Exalt The Forms Of Nature, And Enlarge Her Powers? Once More To Distant Ages Of The World Let Us Revert, And Place Before Our Thoughts The Face Which Rural Solitude Might Wear To The Unenlightened Swains Of Pagan Greece. In That Fair Clime, The Lonely Herdsman, Stretched On The Soft Grass Through Half A Summer'S Day, With Music Lulled His Indolent Repose: And, In Some Fit Of Weariness, If He, When His Own Breath Was Silent, Chanced To Hear A Distant Strain, Far Sweeter Than The Sounds Which His Poor Skill Could Make, His Fancy Fetched, Even From The Blazing Chariot Of The Sun, A Beardless Youth, Who Touched A Golden Lute, And Filled The Illumined Groves With Ravishment. The Nightly Hunter, Lifting A Bright Eye Up Towards The Crescent Moon, With Grateful Heart Called On The Lovely Wanderer Who Bestowed That Timely Light, To Share His Joyous Sport: And Hence, A Beaming Goddess With Her Nymphs, Across The Lawn And Through The Darksome Grove, Not Unaccompanied With Tuneful Notes By Echo Multiplied From Rock Or Cave, Swept In The Storm Of Chase; As Moon And Stars Glance Rapidly Along The Clouded Heaven, When Winds Are Blowing Strong. The Traveller Slaked His Thirst From Rill Or Gushing Fount, And Thanked The Naiad. Sunbeams, Upon Distant Hills Gliding Apace, With Shadows In Their Train, Might, With Small Help From Fancy, Be Transformed Into Fleet Oreads Sporting Visibly. The Zephyrs Fanning, As They Passed, Their Wings, Lacked Not, For Love, Fair Objects Whom They Wooed With Gentle Whisper. Withered Boughs Grotesque, Stripped Of Their Leaves And Twigs By Hoary Age, From Depth Of Shaggy Covert Peeping Forth In The Low Vale, Or On Steep Mountain Side; And, Sometimes, Intermixed With Stirring Horns Of The Live Deer, Or Goat'S Depending Beard, These Were The Lurking Satyrs, A Wild Brood Of Gamesome Deities; Or Pan Himself, The Simple Shepherd'S Awe-Inspiring God!" The Strain Was Aptly Chosen; And I Could Mark Its Kindly Influence, O'Er The Yielding Brow Of Our Companion, Gradually Diffused; While, Listening, He Had Paced The Noiseless Turf, Like One Whose Untired Ear A Murmuring Stream Detains; But Tempted Now To Interpose, He With A Smile Exclaimed: "'Tis Well You Speak At A Safe Distance From Our Native Land, And From The Mansions Where Our Youth Was Taught. The True Descendants Of Those Godly Men Who Swept From Scotland, In A Flame Of Zeal, Shrine, Altar, Image, And The Massy Piles That Harboured Them, The Souls Retaining Yet The Churlish Features Of That After-Race Who Fled To Woods, Caverns, And Jutting Rocks, In Deadly Scorn Of Superstitious Rites, Or What Their Scruples Construed To Be Such How, Think You, Would They Tolerate This Scheme Of Fine Propensities, That Tends, If Urged Far As It Might Be Urged, To Sow Afresh The Weeds Of Romish Phantasy, In Vain Uprooted; Would Re-Consecrate Our Wells To Good Saint Fillan And To Fair Saint Anne; And From Long Banishment Recall Saint Giles, To Watch Again With Tutelary Love O'Er Stately Edinborough Throned On Crags? A Blessed Restoration, To Behold The Patron, On The Shoulders Of His Priests, Once More Parading Through Her Crowded Streets, Now Simply Guarded By The Sober Powers Of Science, And Philosophy, And Sense!" This Answer Followed. "You Have Turned My Thoughts Upon Our Brave Progenitors, Who Rose Against Idolatry With Warlike Mind, And Shrunk From Vain Observances, To Lurk In Woods, And Dwell Under Impending Rocks Ill-Sheltered, And Oft Wanting Fire And Food; Why? For This Very Reason That They Felt, And Did Acknowledge, Wheresoe'Er They Moved, A Spiritual Presence, Oft-Times Misconceived, But Still A High Dependence, A Divine Bounty And Government, That Filled Their Hearts With Joy, And Gratitude, And Fear, And Love; And From Their Fervent Lips Drew Hymns Of Praise, That Through The Desert Rang. Though Favoured Less, Far Less, Than These, Yet Such, In Their Degree, Were Those Bewildered Pagans Of Old Time. Beyond Their Own Poor Natures And Above They Looked; Were Humbly Thankful For The Good Which The Warm Sun Solicited, And Earth Bestowed; Were Gladsome, And Their Moral Sense They Fortified With Reverence For The Gods; And They Had Hopes That Overstepped The Grave. Now, Shall Our Great Discoverers," He Exclaimed, Raising His Voice Triumphantly, "Obtain From Sense And Reason, Less Than These Obtained, Though Far Misled? Shall Men For Whom Our Age Unbaffled Powers Of Vision Hath Prepared, To Explore The World Without And World Within, Be Joyless As The Blind? Ambitious Spirits Whom Earth, At This Late Season, Hath Produced To Regulate The Moving Spheres, And Weigh The Planets In The Hollow Of Their Hand; And They Who Rather Dive Than Soar, Whose Pains Have Solved The Elements, Or Analysed The Thinking Principle Shall They In Fact Prove A Degraded Race? And What Avails Renown, If Their Presumption Make Them Such? Oh! There Is Laughter At Their Work In Heaven! Inquire Of Ancient Wisdom; Go, Demand Of Mighty Nature, If 'Twas Ever Meant That We Should Pry Far Off Yet Be Unraised; That We Should Pore, And Dwindle As We Pore, Viewing All Objects Unremittingly In Disconnection Dead And Spiritless; And Still Dividing, And Dividing Still, Break Down All Grandeur, Still Unsatisfied With The Perverse Attempt, While Littleness May Yet Become More Little; Waging Thus An Impious Warfare With The Very Life Of Our Own Souls! And If Indeed There Be An All-Pervading Spirit, Upon Whom Our Dark Foundations Rest, Could He Design That This Magnificent Effect Of Power, The Earth We Tread, The Sky That We Behold By Day, And All The Pomp Which Night Reveals; That These And That Superior Mystery Our Vital Frame, So Fearfully Devised, And The Dread Soul Within It Should Exist Only To Be Examined, Pondered, Searched, Probed, Vexed, And Criticised? Accuse Me Not Of Arrogance, Unknown Wanderer As I Am, If, Having Walked With Nature Threescore Years, And Offered, Far As Frailty Would Allow, My Heart A Daily Sacrifice To Truth, I Now Affirm Of Nature And Of Truth, Whom I Have Served, That Their Divinity Revolts, Offended At The Ways Of Men Swayed By Such Motives, To Such Ends Employed; Philosophers, Who, Though The Human Soul Be Of A Thousand Faculties Composed, And Twice Ten Thousand Interests, Do Yet Prize This Soul, And The Transcendent Universe, No More Than As A Mirror That Reflects To Proud Self-Love Her Own Intelligence; That One, Poor, Finite Object, In The Abyss Of Infinite Being, Twinkling Restlessly! Nor Higher Place Can Be Assigned To Him And His Compeers The Laughing Sage Of France. Crowned Was He, If My Memory Do Not Err, With Laurel Planted Upon Hoary Hairs, In Sign Of Conquest By His Wit Achieved And Benefits His Wisdom Had Conferred; His Stooping Body Tottered With Wreaths Of Flowers Opprest, Far Less Becoming Ornaments Than Spring Oft Twines About A Mouldering Tree; Yet So It Pleased A Fond, A Vain, Old Man, And A Most Frivolous People. Him I Mean Who Penned, To Ridicule Confiding Faith, This Sorry Legend; Which By Chance We Found Piled In A Nook, Through Malice, As Might Seem, Among More Innocent Rubbish." Speaking Thus, With A Brief Notice When, And How, And Where, We Had Espied The Book, He Drew It Forth; And Courteously, As If The Act Removed, At Once, All Traces From The Good Man'S Heart Of Unbenign Aversion Or Contempt, Restored It To Its Owner. "Gentle Friend," Herewith He Grasped The Solitary'S Hand, "You Have Known Lights And Guides Better Than These. Ah! Let Not Aught Amiss Within Dispose A Noble Mind To Practise On Herself, And Tempt Opinion To Support The Wrongs Of Passion: Whatsoe'Er Be Felt Or Feared, From Higher Judgment-Seats Make No Appeal To Lower: Can You Question That The Soul Inherits An Allegiance, Not By Choice To Be Cast Off, Upon An Oath Proposed By Each New Upstart Notion? In The Ports Of Levity No Refuge Can Be Found, No Shelter, For A Spirit In Distress. He, Who By Wilful Disesteem Of Life And Proud Insensibility To Hope, Affronts The Eye Of Solitude, Shall Learn That Her Mild Nature Can Be Terrible; That Neither She Nor Silence Lack The Power To Avenge Their Own Insulted Majesty. O Blest Seclusion! When The Mind Admits The Law Of Duty; And Can Therefore Move Through Each Vicissitude Of Loss And Gain, Linked In Entire Complacence With Her Choice; When Youth'S Presumptuousness Is Mellowed Down, And Manhood'S Vain Anxiety Dismissed; When Wisdom Shows Her Seasonable Fruit, Upon The Boughs Of Sheltering Leisure Hung In Sober Plenty; When The Spirit Stoops To Drink With Gratitude The Crystal Stream Of Unreproved Enjoyment; And Is Pleased To Muse, And Be Saluted By The Air Of Meek Repentance, Wafting Wall-Flower Scents From Out The Crumbling Ruins Of Fallen Pride And Chambers Of Transgression, Now Forlorn. O, Calm Contented Days, And Peaceful Nights! Who, When Such Good Can Be Obtained, Would Strive To Reconcile His Manhood To A Couch Soft, As May Seem, But, Under That Disguise, Stuffed With The Thorny Substance Of The Past For Fixed Annoyance; And Full Oft Beset With Floating Dreams, Black And Disconsolate, The Vapoury Phantoms Of Futurity? Within The Soul A Faculty Abides, That With Interpositions, Which Would Hide And Darken, So Can Deal That They Become Contingencies Of Pomp; And Serve To Exalt Her Native Brightness. As The Ample Moon, In The Deep Stillness Of A Summer Even Rising Behind A Thick And Lofty Grove, Burns, Like An Unconsuming Fire Of Light, In The Green Trees; And, Kindling On All Sides Their Leafy Umbrage, Turns The Dusky Veil Into A Substance Glorious As Her Own, Yea, With Her Own Incorporated, By Power Capacious And Serene. Like Power Abides In Man'S Celestial Spirit; Virtue Thus Sets Forth And Magnifies Herself; Thus Feeds A Calm, A Beautiful, And Silent Fire, From The Encumbrances Of Mortal Life, From Error, Disappointment Nay, From Guilt; And Sometimes, So Relenting Justice Wills, From Palpable Oppressions Of Despair." The Solitary By These Words Was Touched With Manifest Emotion, And Exclaimed; "But How Begin? And Whence? 'The Mind Is Free Resolve,' The Haughty Moralist Would Say, 'This Single Act Is All That We Demand.' Alas! Such Wisdom Bids A Creature Fly Whose Very Sorrow Is, That Time Hath Shorn His Natural Wings! To Friendship Let Him Turn For Succour, But Perhaps He Sits Alone On Stormy Waters, Tossed In A Little Boat That Holds But Him, And Can Contain No More! Religion Tells Of Amity Sublime Which No Condition Can Preclude; Of One Who Sees All Suffering, Comprehends All Wants, All Weakness Fathoms, Can Supply All Needs: But Is That Bounty Absolute? His Gifts, Are They Not, Still, In Some Degree, Rewards For Acts Of Service? Can His Love Extend To Hearts That Own Not Him? Will Showers Of Grace, When In The Sky No Promise May Be Seen, Fall To Refresh A Parched And Withered Land? Or Shall The Groaning Spirit Cast Her Load At The Redeemer'S Feet?" In Rueful Tone, With Some Impatience In His Mien, He Spake: Back To My Mind Rushed All That Had Been Urged To Calm The Sufferer When His Story Closed; I Looked For Counsel As Unbending Now; But A Discriminating Sympathy Stooped To This Apt Reply: "As Men From Men Do, In The Constitution Of Their Souls, Differ, By Mystery Not To Be Explained; And As We Fall By Various Ways, And Sink One Deeper Than Another, Self-Condemned, Through Manifold Degrees Of Guilt And Shame; So Manifold And Various Are The Ways Of Restoration, Fashioned To The Steps Of All Infirmity, And Tending All To The Same Point, Attainable By All Peace In Ourselves, And Union With Our God. For You, Assuredly, A Hopeful Road Lies Open: We Have Heard From You A Voice At Every Moment Softened In Its Course By Tenderness Of Heart; Have Seen Your Eye, Even Like An Altar Lit By Fire From Heaven, Kindle Before Us. Your Discourse This Day, That, Like The Fabled Lethe, Wished To Flow In Creeping Sadness, Through Oblivious Shades Of Death And Night, Has Caught At Every Turn The Colours Of The Sun. Access For You Is Yet Preserved To Principles Of Truth, Which The Imaginative Will Upholds In Seats Of Wisdom, Not To Be Approached By The Inferior Faculty That Moulds, With Her Minute And Speculative Pains, Opinion, Ever Changing! I Have Seen A Curious Child, Who Dwelt Upon A Tract Of Inland Ground, Applying To His Ear The Convolutions Of A Smooth-Lipped Shell; To Which, In Silence Hushed, His Very Soul Listened Intensely; And His Countenance Soon Brightened With Joy; For From Within Were Heard Murmurings, Whereby The Monitor Expressed Mysterious Union With Its Native Sea. Even Such A Shell The Universe Itself Is To The Ear Of Faith; And There Are Times, I Doubt Not, When To You It Doth Impart Authentic Tidings Of Invisible Things; Of Ebb And Flow, And Ever-During Power; And Central Peace, Subsisting At The Heart Of Endless Agitation. Here You Stand, Adore, And Worship, When You Know It Not; Pious Beyond The Intention Of Your Thought; Devout Above The Meaning Of Your Will. Yes, You Have Felt, And May Not Cease To Feel. The Estate Of Man Would Be Indeed Forlorn If False Conclusions Of The Reasoning Power Made The Eye Blind, And Closed The Passages Through Which The Ear Converses With The Heart. Has Not The Soul, The Being Of Your Life, Received A Shock Of Awful Consciousness, In Some Calm Season, When These Lofty Rocks At Night'S Approach Bring Down The Unclouded Sky, To Rest Upon Their Circumambient Walls; A Temple Framing Of Dimensions Vast, And Yet Not Too Enormous For The Sound Of Human Anthems, Choral Song, Or Burst Sublime Of Instrumental Harmony, To Glorify The Eternal! What If These Did Never Break The Stillness That Prevails Here, If The Solemn Nightingale Be Mute, And The Soft Woodlark Here Did Never Chant Her Vespers, Nature Fails Not To Provide Impulse And Utterance. The Whispering Air Sends Inspiration From The Shadowy Heights, And Blind Recesses Of The Caverned Rocks; The Little Rills, And Waters Numberless, Inaudible By Daylight, Blend Their Notes With The Loud Streams: And Often, At The Hour When Issue Forth The First Pale Stars, Is Heard, Within The Circuit Of This Fabric Huge, One Voice The Solitary Raven, Flying Athwart The Concave Of The Dark Blue Dome, Unseen, Perchance Above All Power Of Sight An Iron Knell! With Echoes From Afar Faint And Still Fainter As The Cry, With Which The Wanderer Accompanies Her Flight Through The Calm Region, Fades Upon The Ear, Diminishing By Distance Till It Seemed To Expire; Yet From The Abyss Is Caught Again, And Yet Again Recovered! But Descending From These Imaginative Heights, That Yield Far-Stretching Views Into Eternity, Acknowledge That To Nature'S Humbler Power Your Cherished Sullenness Is Forced To Bend Even Here, Where Her Amenities Are Sown With Sparing Hand. Then Trust Yourself Abroad To Range Her Blooming Bowers, And Spacious Fields, Where On The Labours Of The Happy Throng She Smiles, Including In Her Wide Embrace City, And Town, And Tower, And Sea With Ships Sprinkled; Be Our Companion While We Track Her Rivers Populous With Gliding Life; While, Free As Air, O'Er Printless Sands We March, Or Pierce The Gloom Of Her Majestic Woods; Roaming, Or Resting Under Grateful Shade In Peace And Meditative Cheerfulness; Where Living Things, And Things Inanimate, Do Speak, At Heaven'S Command, To Eye And Ear, And Speak To Social Reason'S Inner Sense, With Inarticulate Language. For, The Man Who, In This Spirit, Communes With The Forms Of Nature, Who With Understanding Heart Both Knows And Loves Such Objects As Excite No Morbid Passions, No Disquietude, No Vengeance, And No Hatred Needs Must Feel The Joy Of That Pure Principle Of Love So Deeply, That, Unsatisfied With Aught Less Pure And Exquisite, He Cannot Choose But Seek For Objects Of A Kindred Love In Fellow-Natures And A Kindred Joy. Accordingly He By Degrees Perceives His Feelings Of Aversion Softened Down; A Holy Tenderness Pervade His Frame. His Sanity Of Reason Not Impaired, Say Rather, All His Thoughts Now Flowing Clear, From A Clear Fountain Flowing, He Looks Round And Seeks For Good; And Finds The Good He Seeks: Until Abhorrence And Contempt Are Things He Only Knows By Name; And, If He Hear, From Other Mouths, The Language Which They Speak, He Is Compassionate; And Has No Thought, No Feeling, Which Can Overcome His Love. And Further; By Contemplating These Forms In The Relations Which They Bear To Man, He Shall Discern, How, Through The Various Means Which Silently They Yield, Are Multiplied The Spiritual Presences Of Absent Things. Trust Me, That For The Instructed, Time Will Come When They Shall Meet No Object But May Teach Some Acceptable Lesson To Their Minds Of Human Suffering, Or Of Human Joy. So Shall They Learn, While All Things Speak Of Man, Their Duties From All Forms; And General Laws, And Local Accidents, Shall Tend Alike To Rouse, To Urge; And, With The Will, Confer The Ability To Spread The Blessings Wide Of True Philanthropy. The Light Of Love Not Failing, Perseverance From Their Steps Departing Not, For Them Shall Be Confirmed The Glorious Habit By Which Sense Is Made Subservient Still To Moral Purposes, Auxiliar To Divine. That Change Shall Clothe The Naked Spirit, Ceasing To Deplore The Burthen Of Existence. Science Then Shall Be A Precious Visitant; And Then, And Only Then, Be Worthy Of Her Name: For Then Her Heart Shall Kindle; Her Dull Eye, Dull And Inanimate, No More Shall Hang Chained To Its Object In Brute Slavery; But Taught With Patient Interest To Watch The Processes Of Things, And Serve The Cause Of Order And Distinctness, Not For This Shall It Forget That Its Most Noble Use, Its Most Illustrious Province, Must Be Found In Furnishing Clear Guidance, A Support Not Treacherous, To The Mind'S 'Excursive' Power. So Build We Up The Being That We Are; Thus Deeply Drinking-In The Soul Of Things We Shall Be Wise Perforce; And, While Inspired By Choice, And Conscious That The Will Is Free, Shall Move Unswerving, Even As If Impelled By Strict Necessity, Along The Path Of Order And Of Good. Whate'Er We See, Or Feel, Shall Tend To Quicken And Refine; Shall Fix, In Calmer Seats Of Moral Strength, Earthly Desires; And Raise, To Loftier Heights Of Divine Love, Our Intellectual Soul." Here Closed The Sage That Eloquent Harangue, Poured Forth With Fervour In Continuous Stream, Such As, Remote, 'Mid Savage Wilderness, An Indian Chief Discharges From His Breast Into The Hearing Of Assembled Tribes, In Open Circle Seated Round, And Hushed As The Unbreathing Air, When Not A Leaf Stirs In The Mighty Woods. So Did He Speak: The Words He Uttered Shall Not Pass Away Dispersed, Like Music That The Wind Takes Up By Snatches, And Lets Fall, To Be Forgotten; No They Sank Into Me, The Bounteous Gift Of One Whom Time And Nature Had Made Wise, Gracing His Doctrine With Authority Which Hostile Spirits Silently Allow; Of One Accustomed To Desires That Feed On Fruitage Gathered From The Tree Of Life; To Hopes On Knowledge And Experience Built; Of One In Whom Persuasion And Belief Had Ripened Into Faith, And Faith Become A Passionate Intuition; Whence The Soul, Though Bound To Earth By Ties Of Pity And Love, From All Injurious Servitude Was Free. The Sun, Before His Place Of Rest Were Reached, Had Yet To Travel Far, But Unto Us, To Us Who Stood Low In That Hollow Dell, He Had Become Invisible, A Pomp Leaving Behind Of Yellow Radiance Spread Over The Mountain Sides, In Contrast Bold With Ample Shadows, Seemingly, No Less Than Those Resplendent Lights, His Rich Bequest; A Dispensation Of His Evening Power. Adown The Path That From The Glen Had Led The Funeral Train, The Shepherd And His Mate Were Seen Descending: Forth To Greet Them Ran Our Little Page: The Rustic Pair Approach; And In The Matron'S Countenance May Be Read Plain Indication That The Words, Which Told How That Neglected Pensioner Was Sent Before His Time Into A Quiet Grave, Had Done To Her Humanity No Wrong: But We Are Kindly Welcomed Promptly Served With Ostentatious Zeal. Along The Floor Of The Small Cottage In The Lonely Dell A Grateful Couch Was Spread For Our Repose; Where, In The Guise Of Mountaineers, We Lay, Stretched Upon Fragrant Heath, And Lulled By Sound Of Far-Off Torrents Charming The Still Night, And, To Tired Limbs And Over-Busy Thoughts, Inviting Sleep And Soft Forgetfulness.