Was sapped; and while she slept, the nightly damps Did chill her breast; and in the stormy day Her tattered clothes were ruffled by the wind, Even at the side of her own fire. Yet still She loved this wretched spot, nor would for worlds Have parted hence; and still that length of road, And this rude bench, one torturing hope endeared, Fast rooted at her heart: and here, my Friend,— In sickness she remained; and here she died; Last human tenant of these ruined walls!"
The old Man ceased: he saw that I was moved; From that low bench, rising instinctively I turned aside in weakness, nor had power To thank him for the tale which he had told.
I stood, and leaning o'er the garden wall Reviewed that Woman's sufferings; and it seemed To comfort me while with a brother's love I blessed her in the impotence of grief.
Then towards the cottage I returned; and traced Fondly, though with an interest more mild, That secret spirit of humanity
Which, 'mid the calm oblivious tendencies
Of nature, 'mid her plants, and weeds, and flowers, And silent overgrowings, still survived.
The old Man, noting this, resumed, and said, "My Friend! enough to sorrow you have given, The purposes of wisdom ask no more:
Nor more would she have craved as due to One
Who, in her worst distress, had ofttimes felt
The unbounded might of prayer; and learned, with soul Fixed on the Cross, that consolation springs,
From sources deeper far than deepest pain,
For the meek Sufferer. Why then should we read The forms of things with an unworthy eye?
She sleeps in the calm earth, and peace is here. I well remember that those very plumes, Those weeds, and the high spear-grass on that wall, By mist and silent rain-drops silvered o'er, As once I passed, into my heart conveyed
So still an image of tranquillity,
So calm and still, and looked so beautiful Amid the uneasy thoughts which filled my mind, That what we feel of sorrow and despair From ruin and from change, and all the grief That passing shows of Being leave behind, Appeared an idle dream, that could maintain, Nowhere, dominion o'er the enlightened spirit Whose meditative sympathies repose
Upon the breast of Faith. I turned away, And walked 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, Admonished 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, grasped his staff; Together casting then a farewell look Upon those silent walls, we left the shade; And, ere the stars were visible, had reached 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 WakeWanderer'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 Solitary-Wanderer'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 cottage-Description of a grand spectacle upon the mountains, with its effect upon the Solitary's mind-Leave the house.
IN days of yore how fortunately fared
The Minstrel! wandering on from hall to hall, Baronial court or royal; cheered with gifts Munificent, and love, and ladies' praise; Now meeting on his road an armèd 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 walked-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 honoured Race Drew happier, loftier, more empassioned, thoughts From his long journeyings and eventful life," Than this obscure Itinerant had skill
To gather, ranging 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, Looked on this guide with reverential love? Each with the other pleased, we now pursued Our journey, under favourable skies. Turn wheresoe'er we would, he was a light Unfailing: not a hamlet could we pass, Rarely a house, that 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 inspire; 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; 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. Smiles of good-will from faces that he knew Greeted us all day long; we took our seats By many a cottage-hearth, where he received The welcome of an Inmate from afar, And I at once forgot, I was a Stranger. -Nor was he loth to enter raggèd huts, Huts where his charity was blest; 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 perplexed, And finding in herself 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, allayed The perturbation; listened to the plea; Resolved the dubious point; and sentence gave
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