Where meditation was. I turn'd away, And walk'd along my road in happiness.'
He ceased. Ere long the sun declining shot A slant and mellow radiance, which began To fall upon us, while beneath the trees, We sate on that low bench: and now we felt, Admonish'd thus, the sweet hour coming on. A linnet warbled from those lofty elms, A thrush sang loud, and other melodies, At distance heard, peopled the milder air. The old man rose, and, with a sprightly mien Of hopeful preparation, grasp'd his staff; Together casting then a farewell look Upon those silent walls, we left the shade; And, ere the stars were visible, had reach'd A village inn,- ,—our evening resting-place.
The Author describes his travels with the Wanderer, whose character is further illustrated -Morning scene, and view of a Village Wake-Wanderer's account of a friend whom he purposes to visit-View, from an eminence, of the valley which his friend had chosen for his retreat-Sound of singing from below-a funeral procession-Descent into the valley-Observations drawn from the Wanderer at sight of a book accidentally discovered in a recess in the valley-Meeting with the Wanderer's friend, the SolitaryWanderer's description of the mode of burial in this mountainous district-Solitary contrasts with this, that of the individual carried a few minutes before from the cottage -The cottage entered-Description of the Solitary's apartment-Repast there-View from the window, of two mountain summits-and the Solitary's description of the companionship they afford him-Account of the departed inmate of the cottageDescription of a grand spectacle upon the mountains, with its effect upon the Solitary's mind-Quit the house.
IN days of yore how fortunately fared
The minstrel! wandering on from hall to hall, Baronial court or royal; cheer'd with gifts Munificent, and love, and ladies' praise; Now meeting on his road an armed knight, Now resting with a pilgrim by the side Of a clear brook; beneath an abbey's roof One evening sumptuously lodged; the next Humbly in a religious hospital;
Or with some merry outlaws of the wood; Or haply shrouded in a hermit's cell. Him, sleeping or awake, the robber spared; He walk'd protected from the sword of war, By virtue of that sacred instrument, His harp, suspended at the traveller's side: His dear companion wheresoe'er he went, Opening from land to land an easy way By melody, and by the charm of verse.
Yet not the noblest of that honour'd race Drew happier, loftier, more impassion'd thoughts From his long journeyings and eventful life, Than this obscure itinerant (an obscure But a high-soul'd and tender-hearted man) Had skill to draw from many a ramble, far And wide protracted through the tamer ground Of these our unimaginative days;
Both while he trod the earth in humblest guise Accoutred with his burthen and his staff; And now, when free to move with lighter pace.
What wonder, then, if I, whose favourite school Hath been the fields, the roads, and rural lanes, Look'd on this guide with reverential love! Each with the other pleased, we now pursued Our journey-beneath favourable skies.
Turn wheresoe'er we would, he was a light Unfailing not a hamlet could we pass, Rarely a house, which did not yield to him Remembrances; or from his tongue call forth Some way-beguiling tale. Nor less regard Accompanied those strains of apt discourse, Which Nature's various objects might supply; And in the silence of his face I read
His overflowing spirit. Birds and beasts, And the mute fish that glances in the stream, And harmless reptile coiling in the sun, And gorgeous insect hovering in the air, The fowl domestic, and the household dog- In his capacious mind he loved them all: Their rights acknowledging, he felt for all. Oft was occasion given me to perceive How the calm pleasures of the pasturing herd To happy contemplation soothed his walk Along the field, and in the shady grove; How the poor brute's condition, forced to run Its course of suffering in the public road, Sad contrast! all too often smote his heart With unavailing pity. Rich in love And sweet humanity, he was, himself, To the degree that he desired, beloved.
Greetings and smiles we met with all day long, From faces that we knew; we took our seats By many a cottage-hearth, where he received The welcome of an inmate from afar. Nor was he loth to enter ragged huts, Wherein his charity was bless'd; his voice Heard as the voice of an experienced friend.
And, sometimes-where the poor man held dispute
With his own mind, unable to subdue
Impatience, through inaptness to perceive General distress in his particular lot:
Or cherishing resentment, or in vain
Struggling against it, with a soul perplex'd, And finding in itself no steady power To draw the line of comfort that divides Calamity, the chastisement of Heaven, From the injustice of our brother men- To him appeal was made as to a judge; Who, with an understanding heart, allay'd The perturbation; listen'd to the plea; Resolved the dubious point; and sentence gave, So grounded, so applied, that it was heard With soften'd spirit-even when it condemn'd.
Such intercourse I witness'd while we roved Now as his choice directed, now as mine; Or both, with equal readiness of will, Our course submitting to the changeful breeze Of accident. But when the rising sun Had three times call'd us to renew our walk, My fellow-traveller said, with earnest voice, As if the thought were but a moment old, That I must yield myself without reserve To his disposal. Glad was I of this. We started, and he led me towards the hills; Up through an ample vale, with higher hills Before us, mountains stern and desolate; But in the majesty of distance now Set off, and to our ken appearing fair Of aspect, with aërial softness clad,
And beautified with morning's purple beams.
The wealthy, the luxurious, by the stress Of business roused, or pleasure, ere their time, May roll in chariots, or provoke the hoofs Of the fleet coursers they bestride, to raise From earth the dust of morning, slow to rise; And they, if blest with health and hearts at ease, Shall lack not their enjoyment: but how faint Compared with ours, who, pacing side by side, Could, with an eye of leisure, look on all That we beheld; and lend the listening sense To every grateful sound of earth and airPausing at will; our spirits braced, our thoughts Pleasant as roses in the thickets blown, And pure as dew bathing their crimson leaves.
Mount slowly, sun! and may our journey lie Awhile within the shadow of this hill, This friendly hill, a shelter from thy beams! Such is the summer pilgrim's frequent wish: And as that wish, with prevalence of thanks For present good o'er fear of future ill,
Stole in among the morning's blither thoughts, 'Twas chased away, for tow'rds the western side Of the broad vale, casting a casual glance, We saw a throng of people-wherefore met?
Blithe notes of music, suddenly let loose On the thrill'd ear, did to the question yield Prompt answer; they proclaim the annual wake, Which the bright season favours. Tabor and pipe In purpose join to hasten and reprove The laggard rustic; and repay with boons Of merriment a particolour'd knot, Already form'd upon the village green. Beyond the limits of the shadow cast By the broad hill, glisten'd upon our sight That gay assemblage. Round them and above, Glitter, with dark recesses interposed,
Casement, and cottage roof, and stems of trees Half-veil'd in vapoury cloud, the silver steam Of dews fast melting on their leafy boughs By the strong sunbeams smitten. Like a mast Of gold, the maypole shines; as if the rays Of morning, aided by exhaling dew, With gladsome influence could reanimate The faded garlands dangling from its sides.
Said I, "The music and the sprightly scene Invite us; shall we quit our road, and join These festive matins?" He replied, "Not loth Here would I linger, and with you partake, Not one hour merely, but till evening's close, The simple pastimes of the day and place. By the fleet racers, ere the sun be set, The turf of yon large pasture will be skimm'd; There, too, the lusty wrestlers will contend; But know we not that he who intermits Th' appointed task and duties of the day, Untunes full oft the pleasures of the day, Checking the finer spirits that refuse
To flow when purposes are lightly changed? We must proceed, a length of journey yet Remains untraced." Then, pointing with his staff Towards those craggy summits, his intent He thus imparted :-
"In a spot that lies Among yon mountain fastnesses conceal'd,
You will receive, before the hour of noon,
Good recompense, I hope, for this day's toil- From sight of one who lives secluded there,
Lonesome and lost: of whom, and whose past life (Not to forestall such knowledge as may be More faithfully collected from himself), This brief communication shall suffice.
"Though now sojourning there, he, like myself, Sprang from a stock of lowly parentage Among the wilds of Scotland; in a tract Where many a shelter'd and well-tended plant, Upon the humblest ground of social life, Doth at this day, I trust, the blossoms bear
Of piety and simple innocence.
Such grateful promises his youth display'd;
And, as he show'd in study forward zeal,
All helps were sought, all measures strain'd, tnat he By due scholastic discipline prepared,
Might to the ministry be call'd; which done, Partly through lack of better hopes-and part, Perhaps, incited by a curious mind,
In early life he undertook the charge Of chaplain to a military troop
Cheer'd by the Highland bagpipe, as they march'd In plaided vest-his fellow-countrymen. This office filling, and by native power, And force of native inclination, made An intellectual ruler in the haunts Of social vanity, he walk'd the world, Gay, and affecting graceful gaiety;
Lax, buoyant-less a pastor with his flock
Than a soldier among soldiers-lived and roam'd Where fortune led and Fortune, who oft proves The careless wanderer's friend, to him made known A blooming lady-a conspicuous flower, Admired for beauty, for her sweetness praised, Whom he had sensibility to love,
Ambition to attempt, and skill to win,
"For this fair bride, most rich in gifts of mind, Nor sparingly endow'd with worldly wealth, His office he relinquish'd; and retired From the world's notice to a rural home. Youth's season yet with him was scarcely past, And she was in youth's prime. How full their joy!- How free their love !-nor did their love decay, Nor joy abate, till,-pitiable doom!
In the short course of one undreaded year Death blasted all. Death suddenly o'erthrew Two lovely children-all that they possess'd! The mother follow'd: miserably bare The one survivor stood; he wept, he pray'd For his dismissal, day and night-compell'd By pain to turn his thoughts towards the grave, And face the regions of eternity. An uncomplaining apathy displaced This anguish; and, indifferent to delight, To aim and purpose, he consumed his days, To private interest dead, and public care. So lived he; so he might have died.
To the wide world's astonishment, appear'd The glorious opening, the unlook'd-for dawn, That promised everlasting joy to France! That sudden light had power to pierce the gloom In which his spirit, friendless upon earth, In separation dwelt, and solitude.
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