May creep (I wish that they would softly creep)
Over thy last abode, and we may pass
Reminded less imperiously of thee;
The ridge itself may sink into the breast
Of earth, the great abyss, and be no more;
Yet shall not thy remembrance leave our hearts,
Thy image disappear!

"The mountain ash

No eye can overlook, when 'mid a grove
Of yet unfaded trees she lifts her head,
Deck'd with autumnal berries, that outshine
Spring's richest blossoms; and ye may have mark'd,
By a brook side or solitary tarn,

How she her station doth adorn; the pool
Glows at her feet, and all the gloomy rocks
Are brighten'd round her. In his native vale
Such and so glorious did this youth appear;
A sight that kindled pleasure in all hearts
By his ingenuous beauty, by the gleam
Of his fair eyes, by his capacious brow,
By all the graces with which nature's hand
Had lavishly array'd him. As old bards
Tell in their idle songs of wandering gods,
Pan or Apollo, veil'd in human form;
Yet, like the sweet-breath'd violet of the shade,
Discover'd in their own despite to sense
Of mortals, (if such fables without blame
May find chance mention on this sacred ground,)
So, through a simple rustic garb's disguise,
And through th' impediment of rural cares,
In him reveal'd a scholar's genius shone;
And so, not wholly hidden from men's sight,
In him the spirit of a hero walk'd
Our unpretending valley. How the coit

And yet a modest comrade, led them forth
From their shy solitude, to face the world
With a gay confidence and seemly pride;
Measuring the soil beneath their happy feet,
Like youths released from labour, and yet bound
To most laborious service, though to them
A festival of unencumber'd ease;
The inner spirit keeping holyday,
Like vernal ground to sabbath sunshine left.
"Oft have I mark'd him at some leisure hour,
Stretch'd on the grass or seated in the shade
Among his fellows, while an ample map
Before their eyes lay carefully outspread,
From which the gallant teacher would discourse,
Now pointing this way and now that. Here flows,'
Thus would he say, the Rhine, that famous stream!
Eastward, the Danube toward this inland sea,
A mightier river, winds from realm to realm,
And, like a serpent, shows his glittering back
Bespotted with innumerable isles:

Here reigns the Russian, there the Turk; observe
His capital city!' Thence, along a tract
Of livelier interest to his hopes and fears
His finger moved, distinguishing the spots
Where wide-spread conflict then most fiercely raged;
Nor left unstigmatized those fatal fields
On which the sons of mighty Germany
Were taught a base submission. 'Here behold
A nobler race, the Switzers, and their land;
Vales deeper far than these of ours, huge woods
And mountains white with everlasting snow!'
And, surely, he, that spake with kindling brow,
Was a true patriot, hopeful as the best
Of that young peasantry, who, in our days,

Whizz'd from the stripling's arm! If touch'd by Have fought and perish'd for Helvetia's rights,—

him,

Th' inglorious football mounted to the pitch

Of the lark's flight, or shaped a rainbow curve,
Aloft, in prospect of the shouting field!
The indefatigable fox had learn'd
To dread his perseverance in the chase.
With admiration would he lift his eyes
To the wide-ruling eagle, and his hand
Was loath to assault the majesty he loved;
Else had the strongest fastnesses proved weak
To guard the royal brood. The sailing glead,
The wheeling swallow, and the darting snipe,
The sportive sea-gull dancing with the waves,
And cautious water-fowl from distant climes,
Fix'd at their seat, the centre of the mere,
Were subject to young Oswald's steady aim.
"From Gallia's coast a tyrant hurl'd his threats;
Our country mark'd the preparation vast
Of hostile forces; and she call'd, with voice
That fill'd her plains, that reach'd her utmost shores,
And in remotest vales was heard,-To arms!
Then, for the first time, here you might have seen
The shepherd's gray to martial scarlet changed,
That flash'd uncouthly through the woods and fields.
Ten hardy striplings, all in bright attire,
And graced with shining weapons, weekly march'd
From this lone valley, to a central spot,
Where, in assemblage with the flower and choice
Of the surrounding district, they might learn
The rudiments of war; ten-hardy, strong,
And valiant; but young Oswald, like a chief,

Ah, not in vain!-or those who, in old time,
For work of happier issue to the side
Of Tell came trooping from a thousand huts,
When he had risen alone! No braver youth
Descended from Judean heights, to march
With righteous Joshua; or appear❜d in arms
When grove was fell'd, and altar was cast down,
And Gideon blew the trumpet, soul-inflamed,
And strong in hatred of idolatry."

This spoken, from his seat the pastor rose,
And moved towards the grave. Instinctively
His steps we follow'd; and my voice exclaim'd,
"Power to th' oppressors of the world is given,
A might of which they dream not. O! the curse,
To be th' awakener of divinest thoughts,
Father and Founder of exalted deeds,
And to whole nations bound in servile straits
The liberal donor of capacities
More than heroic! this to be, nor yet
Have sense of one connatural wish, nor yet
Deserve the least return of human thanks;
Winning no recompense but deadly hate
With pity mix'd, astonishment with scorn!"

When these involuntary words had ceased,
The pastor said, " So Providence is served;
The forked weapon of the skies can send
Illumination into deep, dark holds,
Which the mild sunbeam hath not power to pierce.
Why do ye quake, intimidated thrones ?
For, not unconscious of the mighty debt
Which to outrageous wrong the sufferer owes,

Europe, through all her habitable seats,
Is thirsting for their overthrow, who still
Exist, as pagan temples stood of old,
By very horror of their impious rites
Preserved; are suffer'd to extend their pride,
Like cedars on the top of Lebanon

Darkening the sun. But less impatient thoughts,

And love all hoping and expecting all,'

Tender emotions spreading from the heart
To his worn cheek; or with uneasy shame
For those cold humours of habitual spleen,
That fondly seeking in dispraise of man
Solace and self-excuse, had sometimes urged
To self-abuse a not ineloquent tongue.
Right toward the sacred edifice his steps
Had been directed; and we saw him now

This hallow'd grave demands, where rests in peace Intent upon a monumental stone,

A humble champion of the better cause;

A peasant youth, so call him, for he ask'd
No higher name; in whom our country show'd,
As in a favourite son, most beautiful.
In spite of vice, and misery, and disease,
Spread with the spreading of her wealthy arts,
England, the ancient and the free, appear'd
In him to stand before my swimming eyes,
Unconquerably virtuous and secure.
No more of this, lest I offend his dust:
Short was his life, and a brief tale remains.
"One summer's day-a day of annual pomp
And solemn chase-from morn to sultry noon
His steps had follow'd, fleetest of the fleet,
The red deer, driven along its native heights
With cry of hound and horn; and, from that toil
Return'd with sinews weaken'd and relax'd,
This generous youth, too negligent of self,
Plunged-'mid a gay and busy throng convened
To wash the fleeces of his father's flock-
Into the chilling flood.

"Convulsions dire

1

Whose uncouth form was grafted on the wall,
Or rather seem'd to have grown into the side
Of the rude pile; as ofttimes trunks of trees,
Where nature works in wild and craggy spots,
Are seen incorporate with the living rock,
To endure for aye. The vicar, taking note
Of his employment, with a courteous smile
Exclaim'd, "The sagest antiquarian's eye
That task would foil;" then, letting fall his voice
While he advanced, thus spake: "Tradition tells
That, in Eliza's golden days, a knight
Came on a war-horse sumptuously attired,
And fix'd his home in this sequester'd vale.
'Tis left untold if here he first drew breath,
Or as a stranger reach'd this deep recess,
Unknowing and unknown. A pleasing thought
I sometimes entertain, that, haply bound
To Scotland's court in service of his queen,
Or sent on mission to some northern chief
Of England's realm, this vale he might have seen,
With transient observation; and thence caught
An image fair, which brightening in his soul

Seized him that selfsame night; and through the When joy of war and pride of chivalry

space

Of twelve ensuing days his frame was wrench'd,
Till nature rested from her work in death.
To him, thus snatch'd away, his comrades paid
A soldier's honours. At his funeral hour
Bright was the sun, the sky a cloudless blue;
A golden lustre slept upon the hills;
And if by chance a stranger, wandering there,
From some commanding eminence had look'd
Down on this spot, well pleased would he have seen
A glittering spectacle; but every face
Was pallid; seldom hath that eye been moist
With tears, that wept not then; nor were the few
Who from their dwellings came not forth to join
In this sad service, less disturb'd than we.
They started at the tributary peal
Of instantaneous thunder, which announced
Through the still air the closing of the grave;
And distant mountains echo'd with a sound
Of lamentation never heard before !"

The pastor ceased. My venerable friend
Victoriously upraised his clear bright eye;
And, when that eulogy was ended, stood
Enrapt, as if his inward sense perceived
The prolongation of some still response,
Sent by the ancient soul of this wide land,
The spirit of its mountains and its seas,
Its cities, temples, fields, its awful power,
Its rights and virtues-by that Deity
Descending, and supporting his pure heart
With patriotic confidence and joy.
And, at the last of those memorial words,
The pining solitary turn'd aside,
Whether through manly instinct to conceal

Languish'd beneath accumulated years,
Had power to draw him from the world, resolved
To make that paradise his chosen home
To which his peaceful fancy oft had turn'd.
Vague thoughts are these; but, if belief may rest
Upon unwritten story fondly traced
From sire to son, in this obscure retreat
The knight arrived, with pomp of spear and shield,
And borne upon a charger cover'd o'er
With gilded housings. And the lofty steed,
His sole companion, and his faithful friend,
Whom he, in gratitude, let loose to range
In fertile pastures, was beheld with eyes
Of admiration, and delightful awe,
By those untravell'd dalesmen. With less pride,
Yet free from touch of envious discontent,
They saw a mansion at his bidding rise,
Like a bright star amid the lowly band

Of their rude homesteads. Here the warrior dwelt;
And, in that mansion, children of his own,
Or kindred, gather'd round him. As a tree
That falls and disappears, the house is gone;
And, through improvidence or want of love
For ancient worth and honourable things,
The spear and shield are vanish'd, which the knight
Hung in his rustic hall. One ivied arch
Myself have seen, a gateway, last remains
Of that foundation in domestic care
Raised by his hands. And now no trace is left
Of the mild-hearted champion, save this stone,
Faithless memorial! and his family name
Borne by yon clustering cottages, that sprang
From out the ruins of his stately lodge:
These, and the name and title at full length-

SIR ALFRED IRTHING, with appropriate words
Accompanied, still extant, in a wreath
Or posy, girding round the several fronts
Of three clear-sounding and harmonious bells
That in the steeple hang, his pious gift."

"So fails, so languishes, grows dim, and dies,"
The gray-hair'd wanderer pensively exclaim'd,
"All that this world is proud of. From their spheres
The stars of human glory are cast down;
Perish the roses and the flowers of kings,*
Princes, and emperors, and the crowns and palms
Of all the mighty, wither'd and consumed!
Nor is power given to lowliest innocence
Long to protect her own. The man himself
Departs; and soon is spent the line of those
Who, in the bodily image, in the mind,
In heart or soul, in station or pursuit,
Did most resemble him. Degrees and ranks,
Fraternities and orders-heaping high
New wealth upon the burden of the old,
And placing trust in privilege confirm'd
And reconfirm'd-are scoff'd at with a smile
Of greedy foretaste, from the secret stand
Of desolation, aim'd: to slow decline
These yield, and these to sudden overthrow;
Their virtue, service, happiness, and state
Expire; and nature's pleasant robe of green,
Humanity's appointed shroud, inwraps

But why no softening thought of gratitude,
No just remembrance, scruple, or wise doubt?
Benevolence is mild; nor borrows help,
Save at worst need, from bold impetuous force,
Fitliest allied to anger and revenge.
But human kind rejoices in the might
Of mutability, and airy hopes,
Dancing around her, hinder and disturb
Those meditations of the soul that feed
The retrospective virtues. Festive songs
Break from the madden'd nations at the sight
Of sudden overthrow; and cold neglect

Is the sure consequence of slow decay.
Even," said the wanderer, "as that courteous

knight,

Bound by his vow to labour for redress

Of all who suffer wrong, and to enact
By sword and lance the law of gentleness,
(If I may venture of myself to speak,
Trusting that not incongruously I blend
Low things with lofty,) I too shall be doom'd
To outlive the kindly use and fair esteem
Of the poor calling which my youth embraced
With no unworthy prospect. But enough;
Thoughts crowd upon me, and 'twere seemlier now
To stop, and yield our gracious teacher thanks

Their monuments and their memory. The vast For the pathetic records which his voice

frame

Of social nature changes evermore
Her organs and her members with decay
Restless, and restless generation, powers
And functions dying and produced at need;
And by this law the mighty whole subsists:
With an ascent and progress in the main,
Yet, O! how disproportion'd to the hopes
And expectations of self-flattering minds!

The courteous knight whose bones are here interr'd,
Lived in an age conspicuous as our own

For strife and ferment in the minds of men ;
Whence alteration, in the forms of things,
Various and vast. A memorable age!
Which did to him assign a pensive lot-
To linger 'mid the last of those bright clouds,
That, on the steady breeze of honour, sail'd
In long procession, calm and beautiful.

He who had seen his own bright order fade,
And its devotion gradually decline,
(While war, relinquishing the lance and shield,
Her temper changed, and bow'd to other laws,)
Had also witnessed, in his morn of life,
That violent commotion which o'erthrew,
In town, and city, and sequester'd glen,
Altar, and cross, and church of solemn roof,
And old religious house-pile after pile;
And shook the tenants out into the fields,

The "transit gloria mundi" is finely expressed in the introduction to the foundation charters of some of the ancient abbeys. Some expressions here used are taken from that of the abbey of St. Mary's Furness, the translation of which is as follows:

Hath here delivered; words of heartfelt truth,
Tending to patience when affliction strikes;
To hope and love; to confident repose
In God; and reverence for the dust of man."

BOOK VIII.

THE PARSONAGE.

ARGUMENT.

Pastor's apprehensions that he might have detained his auditors too long. Invitation to his house. Solitary disinclined to comply, rallies the wanderer; and somewhat playfully draws a comparison between his itine rant profession and that of the knight-errant; which leads to wanderer's giving an account of changes in the country from the manufacturing spirit. Favourable effects. The other side of the picture, and chiefly as it has affected the humbler classes. Wanderer asserts the hollowness of all national grandeur if unsupported by moral worth; gives instances. Physical science unable to support itself. Lamentations over an excess of manufacturing industry among the humbler classes of society. Picture of a child employed in a cottonmill. Ignorance and degradation of children among the agricultural population reviewed. Conversation broken off by a renewed invitation from the pastor. Path leading to his house. Its appearance described. His daughter. His wife. His son (a boy) enters with his companion. Their happy appearance. The wanderer, how affected by the sight of them.

THE pensive skeptic of the lonely vale To those acknowledgments subscribed his own, With a sedate compliance, which the priest Fail'd not to notice, inly pleased, and said, "Considering every day the uncertainty of life, that the« If ye, by whom invited I commenced roses and flowers of kings, emperors, and dukes, and the These narratives of calm and humble life, crowns and palms of all the great wither and decay; and that all things, with an uninterrupted course, tend to dis- Be satisfied, 'tis well; the end is gain'd; solution and death: I therefore," &c. And in return for sympathy bestow'd

Or disappearing; triumph that proclaims
How much the mild directress of the plough
Owes to alliance with these new-born arts!
Hence is the wide sea peopled,-hence the shores
Of Britain are resorted to by ships

Freighted from every climate of the world

That there should pass a moment of the year,
When in their land th' Almighty's service ceased.
"Triumph who will in these profaner rites
Which we, a generation self-extoll'd,
As zealously perform! I cannot share
His proud complacency; yet I exuit,

With the world's choicest produce. Hence that sum Casting reserve away, exult to see

Of keels that rest within her crowded ports,
Or ride at anchor in her sounds and bays;
That animating spectacle of sails

Which, through her inland regions, to and fro
Pass with the respirations of the tide,
Perpetual, multitudinous! Finally,
Hence a dread arm of floating power, a voice
Of thunder daunting those who would approach
With hostile purposes, the blessed isle,
Truth's consecrated residence, the seat
Impregnable of liberty and peace.

"And yet, O happy pastor of a flock
Faithfully watch'd, and, by that loving care
And Heaven's good providence, preserved from
taint!

With you I grieve, when on the darker side
Of this great change I look; and there behold
Such outrage done to nature as compels
Th' indignant power to justify herself;
Yea, to avenge her violated rights,

An intellectual mastery exercised

O'er the blind elements; a purpose given,

A perseverance fed; almost a soul
Imparted to brute matter. I rejoice,
Measuring the force of those gigantic powers,
That by the thinking mind have been compell'd
To serve the will of feeble-bodied man.
For with the sense of admiration blends
The animating hope that time may come
When strengthen'd, yet not dazzled, by the might
Of this dominion over nature gain'd,

Men of all lands shall exercise the same
In due proportion to their country's need;
Learning, though late, that all true glory rests,
All praise, all safety, and all happiness,
Upon the moral law. Egyptian Thebes,
Tyre by the margin of the sounding waves,
Palmyra, central in the desert, fell;

And the arts died by which they had been raised.
Call Archimedes from his buried tomb

For England's bane. When soothing darkness Upon the plain of vanish'd Syracuse,

spreads

O'er hill and vale," the wanderer thus express'd
His recollections, "and the punctual stars,
While all things else are gathering to their homes,
Advance, and in the firmament of heaven
Glitter-but undisturbing, undisturb'd;
As if their silent company were charged
With peaceful admonitions for the heart

Of all beholding man, earth's thoughtful lord;
Then, in full many a region, once like this
Th' assured domain of calm simplicity
And pensive quiet, an unnatural light
Prepared for never-resting labour's eyes,
Breaks from a many-window'd fabric huge;
And at the appointed hour a bell is heard,
Of harsher import than the curfew-knoll
That spake the Norman conqueror's stern behest-
A local summons to unceasing toil!
Disgorged are now the ministers of day:
And, as they issue from th' illumined pile,
A fresh band meets them, at the crowded door,
And in the courts-and where the rumbling stream,
That turns the multitude of dizzy wheels,
Glares, like a troubled spirit, in its bed
Among the rocks below. Men, maidens, youths,
Mother and little children, boys and girls,
Enter, and each the wonted task resumes
Within this temple, where is offer'd up
To gain-the master idol of the realm-
Perpetual sacrifice. E'en thus of old
Our ancestors within the still domain
Of vast cathedral or conventual church,
Their vigils kept: where tapers day and night
On the dim altar burn'd continually,
In token that the house was evermore
Watching to God. Religious men were they;
Nor would their reason, tutor❜d to aspire
Above this transitory world, allow

And feelingly the sage shall make report
How insecure, how baseless in itself,
Is the philosophy, whose sway depends
On mere material instruments; how weak
Those arts, and high inventions, if unpropp'd
By virtue. He with sighs of pensive grief,
Amid his calm abstractions, would admit
That not the slender privilege is theirs
To save themselves from blank forgetfulness!"
When from the wanderer's lips these words had
fall'n,

I said, "And, did in truth these vaunted arts
Possess such privilege, how could we escape
Regret and painful sadness, who revere,
And would preserve as things above all price,
The old domestic morals of the land,
Her simple manners, and the stable worth
That dignified and cheer'd a low estate ?
O! where is now the character of peace,
Sobriety, and order, and chaste love,
And honest dealing, and untainted speech,
And pure good-will, and hospitable cheer;
That made the very thought of country life
A thought of refuge, for a mind detain'd
Reluctantly amid the bustling crowd?
Where now the beauty of the Sabbath kept
With conscientious reverence, as a day
By the almighty Lawgiver pronounced
Holy and blest? and where the winning grace
Of all the lighter ornaments attach'd

To time and season, as the year roll'd round?"
"Fled!" was the wanderer's passionate re-
sponse,

"Fled utterly! or only to be traced

In a few fortunate retreats like this;
Which I behold with trembling, when I think
What lamentable change, a year-a month-
May bring; that brook converting as it runs