Puslapio vaizdai
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Had fallen in torrents; all the mountain-tops
Were hidden, and black vapours coursed their sides;
This had I seen, and saw; but, till she spake,

Was wholly ignorant that my ancient friend-
Who at her bidding, early and alone,
Had clomb aloft to delve the moorland turf
For winter fuel, to his noontide meal

Came not, and now perchance upon the heights
Lay at the mercy of this raging storm.
"Inhuman!" said I, "was an old man's life
Not worth the trouble of a thought ?-alas!
This notice comes too late." With joy I saw
Her husband enter, from a distant vale.
We sallied forth together; found the tools
Which the neglected veteran had dropp'd,
But through all quarters look'd for him in vain.
We shouted-but no answer! Darkness fell
Without remission of the blast or shower,
And fears for our own safety drove us home.
I, who weep little, did, I will confess,
The moment I was seated here alone,
Honour my little cell with some few tears
Which anger and resentment could not dry.
All night the storm endured; and, soon as help
Had been collected from the neighbouring vale,
With morning we renew'd our quest: the wind
Was fall'n, the rain abated, but the hills
Lay shrouded in impenetrable mist;
And long and hopelessly we sought in vain
Till, chancing on that lofty ridge to pass
A heap of ruin, almost without walls
And wholly without roof (in ancient time
It was a chapel, a small edifice,

In which the peasants of these lonely dells
For worship met upon that central height)—
Chancing to pass this wreck of stones, we there
Espied at last the object of our search,
Couch'd in a nook, and seemingly alive.

It would have moved you, had you seen the guise
In which he occupied his chosen bed,
Lying full three parts buried among tufts
Of heath-plant under and above him strown,
To baffle, as he might, the watery storm :
And there we found him breathing peaceably;
Snug as a child that hides itself in sport
'Mid a green haycock in a sunny field.

We spake he made reply, but would not stir
At our entreaty; less from want of power

Than apprehension and bewildering thoughts.

So was he lifted gently from the ground,

And with their freight the shepherds homeward moved
Through the dull mist, I following-when a step,
A single step, that freed me from the skirts

Of the blind vapour, open'd to my view

Glory beyond all glory ever seen

By waking sense or by the dreaming soul!
Though I am conscious that no power of words
Can body forth, no hues of speech can paint
That gorgeous spectacle-too bright and fair
Even for remembrance; yet the attempt may give
Collateral interest to this homely tale.
The appearance, instantaneously disclosed,
Was of a mighty city-boldly say
A wilderness of building-sinking far
And self-withdrawn into a boundless depth,
Far sinking into splendour-without end!
Fabric it seem'd of diamond and of gold,
With alabaster domes and silver spires;
And blazing terrace upon terrace, high
Uplifted; here, serene pavilions bright,
In avenues disposed; there, towers begirt
With battlements, that on their restless fronts
Bore stars-illumination of all gems!

By earthly nature had the effect been wrought
Upon the dark materials of the storm

Now pacified; on them, and on the coves

And mountain steeps and summits, whereunto

The vapours had receded, taking there

Their station under a cerulean sky.

O, 'twas an unimaginable sight!

Clouds, mists, streams, watery rocks, and emerald turf,

Clouds of all tincture, rocks and sapphire sky,

Confused, commingled, mutually inflamed,

Molten together, and composing thus,

Each lost in each, that marvellous array

Of temple, palace, citadel, and huge
Fantastic pomp of structure without name,
In fleecy folds voluminous enwrapp'd.

Right in the midst, where interspace appear'd
Of open court, an object like a throne
Under a shining canopy of state

Stood fix'd; and fix'd resemblances were seen
To implements of ordinary use,

But vast in size, in substance glorified;
Such as by Hebrew prophets were beheld
In vision-forms uncouth of mightiest power,
For admiration and mysterious awe.
Below me was the earth; this little vale,
Lay low beneath my feet; 'twas visible
I saw not, but I felt, that it was there.
That which I saw was the reveal'd abode
Of spirits in beatitude: my heart

Swell'd in my breast. 'I have been dead,' I cried,

'And now I live! Oh! wherefore do I live?

And with that pang I pray'd to be no more!

But I forget our charge-as utterly

I then forgot him-there I stood and gazed;
The apparition faded not away,

And I descended. Having reach'd the house,
I found its rescued inmate safely lodged,
And in serene possession of himself,

Beside a genial fire that seem'd to spread
A gleam of comfort o'er his pallid face.

Great show of joy the housewite made, and truly
Was glad to find her conscience set at ease;
And not less glad, for sake of her good name,
That the poor sufferer had escaped with life.
But, though he seem'd at first to have received
No harm, and uncomplaining as before
Went through his usual tasks, a silent change
Soon show'd itself; he linger'd three short weeks;
And from the cottage hath been borne to-day.

"So ends my dolorous tale, and glad I am
That it is ended." At these words he turn'd-
And, with blithe air of open fellowship,

Brought from the cupboard wine and stouter cheer,
Like one who would be merry. Seeing this

My grey-hair'd friend said courteously-"Nay, nay,
You have regaled us as a hermit ought;

Now let us forth into the sun!" Our host
Rose, though reluctantly, and forth we went.

BOOK III.

DESPONDENCY.

Images in the Valley-Another recess in it entered and described-Wanderer's sensationsSolitary's excited by the same objects-Contrast between these-Despondency of the Solitary gently reproved-Conversation exhibiting the Solitary's past and present opinions and feelings, till he enters upon his own history at length-His domestic felicity-Afflictions-Dejection-Roused by the French Revolution-Disappointment and disgust-Voyage to America- Disappointment and disgust pursue him-His return -His languor and depression of mind, from want of faith in the great truths of religion, and want of confidence in the virtue of mankind.

A HUMMING BEE-a little tinkling rill-
A pair of falcons wheeling on the wing,
In clamorous agitation, round the crest
Of a tall rock, their airy citadel-

By each and all of these the pensive ear
Was greeted, in the silence that ensued,

When through the cottage threshold we had pass'd,
And, deep within that lonesome valley, stood
Once more beneath the concave of the blue
And cloudless sky. Anon exclaim'd our host,
Triumphantly dispersing with the taunt
The shade of discontent which on his brow
Had gather'd,-"Ye have left my cell-but see
Now Nature hems you in with friendly arms!

And by her help ye are my prisoners still.
But which way shall I lead you?-how contrive,
In spot so parsimoniously endow'd,

That the brief hours which yet remain may reap
Some recompense of knowledge or delight?"
So saying, round he look'd, as if perplex'd;
And, to remove those doubts, my grey-hair'd friend
Said "Shall we take this pathway for our guide?——
Upwards it winds, as if, in summer heats,

Its line had first been fashion'd by the flock
A place of refuge seeking at the root

Of yon black yew-tree, whose protruded boughs
Darken the silver bosom of the crag

From which it draws its meagre sustenance.
There in commodious shelter may we rest.
Or let us trace this streamlet to its source;
Feebly it tinkles with an earthy sound,
And a few steps may bring us to the spot

Where, haply, crown'd with flow'rets and green herbs,
The mountain infant to the sun comes forth,

Like human life from darkness."

At the word

We follow'd where he led. A sudden turn
Through a straight passage of encumber'd ground,
Proved that such hope was vain: for now we stood
Shut out from prospect of the open vale,
And saw the water that composed this rill,
Descending, disembodied, and diffused
O'er the smooth surface of an ample crag,
Lofty, and steep, and naked as a tower.
All further progress here was barr'd.
Thought I," if master of a vacant hour,
Here would not linger, willingly detain❜d?
Whether to such wild objects he were led
When copious rains have magnified the stream
Into a loud and white-robed waterfall,
Or introduced at this more quiet time."

"And who,

Upon a semicirque of turf-clad ground,
The hidden nook discover'd to our view
A mass of rock, resembling, as it lay
Right at the foot of that moist precipice,
A stranded ship, with keel upturn'd,-that rests
Fearless of winds and waves. Three several stones

Stood near, of smaller size, and not unlike
To monumental pillars: and, from these
Some little space disjoin'd, a pair were seen,
That with united shoulders bore aloft
A fragment, like an altar, flat and smooth.
Barren the tablet, yet thereon appear'd
Conspicuously station'd, one fair plant,
A tall and shining holly, that had found
A hospitable chink, and stood upright,
As if inserted by some human hand
In mockery, to wither in the sun,

Or lay its beauty flat before a breeze,
The first that enter'd. But no breeze did now
Find entrance; high or low appear'd no trace
Of motion, save the water that descended,
Diffused adown that barrier of steep rock,
And softly creeping, like a breath of air,
Such as is sometimes seen, and hardly seen,
To brush the still breast of a crystal lake.

"Behold a cabinet for sages built,

Which kings might envy!" Praise to this effect
Broke from the happy old man's reverend lip;
Who to the Solitary turn'd, and said,
"In sooth, with love's familiar privilege,
You have decried, in no unseemly terms
Of modesty, that wealth which is your own.
Among these rocks and stones, methinks, I see
More than the heedless impress that belongs
To lonely nature's casual work; they bear
A semblance strange of power intelligent,
And of design not wholly worn away.
Boldest of plants that ever faced the wind,
How gracefully that slender shrub looks forth
From its fantastic birthplace! And I own,
Some shadowy intimations haunt me here,
I cannot but incline to a belief

That in these shows a chronicle survives
Of purposes akin to those of man,

But wrought with mightier arm than now prevails.
Voiceless the stream descends into the gulf
With timid lapse; and lo! while in this strait
I stand-the chasm of sky above my head
Is heaven's profoundest azure; no domain
For fickle, short-lived clouds to occupy,
Or to pass through, but rather an abyss
In which the everlasting stars abide;

And whose soft gloom and boundless depth might tempt
The curious eye to look for them by day.

Hail Contemplation! from the stately towers,
Rear'd by th' industrious hand of human art
To lift thee high above the misty air,
And turbulence of murmuring cities vast;
From academic groves, that have for thee
Been planted, hither come and find a lodge
To which thou mayest resort for holier peace,-

From whose calm centre thou, through height or depth,
Mayst penetrate, wherever truth shall lead;

Measuring through all degrees, until the scale
Of time and conscious nature disappear,
Lost in unsearchable eternity!"

A pause ensued; and with minuter care
We scann'd the various features of the scene:
And soon the tenant of that lonely vale

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