Their happy year spins round. The youth obeys
A like glad impulse; and so moves the man
'Mid all his apprehensions, cares, and fears;
Or so he ought to move. Ah! why in age
Do we revert so fondly to the walks

Of childhood, but that there the soul discerns
The dear memorial footsteps unimpair'd
Of her own native vigour-but for this,
That it is given her thence in age to hear
Reverberations, and a choral song,

Commingling with the incense that ascends,
Undaunted, towards the imperishable heavens,
From her own lonely altar? Do not think
That good and wise will ever be allow'd,
Though strength decay, to breathe in such estate
As shall divide them wholly from the stir
Of hopeful nature. Rightly is it said
That man descends into the vale of years;
Yet have I thought that we might also speak,
And not presumptuously, I trust, of age,
As of a final eminence, though bare
In aspect and forbidding, yet a point
On which 'tis not impossible to sit
In awful sovereignty; a place of power--
A throne, which may be liken'd unto his,
Who, in some placid day of summer, looks
Down from a mountain-top,-say one of those
High peaks, that bound the vale where now we are.
Faint and diminish'd to the gazing eye,
Forest and field, and hill and dale, appear,
With all the shapes upon their surface spread.
But while the gross and visible frame of things
Relinquishes its hold upon the sense,

Yea, almost on the mind itself, and seems
All unsubstantialized-how loud the voice
Of waters, with invigorated peal
From the full river in the vale below
Ascending! For on that superior height
Who sits is disencumber'd from the press
Of near obstructions, and is privileged
To breathe in solitude, above the host
Of ever-humming insects, 'mid thin air

That suits not them. The murmur of the leaves,
Many and idle, touches not his ear:

This he is freed from, and from thousand notes
Not less unceasing, not less vain than these,
By which the finer passages of sense

Are occupied; and the soul, that would incline
To listen, is prevented or deterr'd.

"And may it not be hoped that, placed by age In like removal, tranquil, though severe,

We are not so removed for utter loss,

But for some favour, suited to our need?

What more than this, that we thereby should gain

Fresh power to commune with th' invisible world,
And hear the mighty stream of tendency
Uttering, for elevation of our thought,
A clear, sonorous voice, inaudible

To the vast multitude, whose doom it is
To run the giddy round of vain delight,
Or fret and labour on the plain below.
But, if to such sublime ascent the hopes
Of man may rise, as to a welcome close
And termination of his mortal course,
Them only can such hope inspire whose minds
Have not been starved by absolute neglect,
Nor bodies crush'd by unremitting toil;
To whom kind Nature, therefore, may afford
Proof of the sacred love she bears for all;
Whose birthright reason, therefore, may insure.
For me, consulting what I feel within

In times when most existence with herself
Is satisfied, I cannot but believe,

That, far as kindly Nature hath free scope
And reason's sway predominates, even so far,
Country, society, and time itself,

That saps the individual's bodily frame,
And lays the generations low in dust,

Do, by th' Almighty Ruler's grace, partake
Of one maternal spirit, bringing forth
And cherishing with ever-constant love,
That tires not, nor betrays. Our life is turn'd
Out of her course, wherever man is made
An offering or a sacrifice, a tool

Or implement, a passive thing employ'd
As a brute mean, without acknowledgment
Of common right or interest in the end;
Used or abused, as selfishness may prompt.
Say, what can follow for a rational soul
Perverted thus, but weakness in all good,
And strength in evil? Hence an after-call
For chastisement, and custody, and bonds,
And ofttimes death, avenger of the past,
And the sole guardian in whose hands we dare
Intrust the future. Not for these sad issues
Was man created; but t' obey the law

Of life, and hope, and action. And 'tis known,
That when we stand upon our native soil,

Unelbow'd by such objects as oppress

Our active powers, those powers themselves become
Strong to subvert our noxious qualities:

They sweep away infection from the heart,
And, by the substitution of delight,
Suppress all evil; whence the being moves
In beauty through the world; and all who see
Bless him, rejoicing in his neighbourhood."

Then," said the Solitary, "by what power
Of language shall a feeling heart express

Her sorrow for that multitude in whom

We look for health from seeds that have been sown
In sickness, and for increase in a power

That works but by extinction? On themselves
They cannot lean, nor turn to their own hearts
To know what they must do; their wisdom is
To look into the eyes of others, thence
To be instructed what they must avoid :
Or rather, let us say, how least observed,
How with most quiet and most silent death,
With the least taint and injury to the air
The oppressor breathes, their human form divine,
And their immortal soul, may waste away."

The sage rejoin'd: "I thank you-you have spared My voice the utterance of a keen regret,

A wide compassion, which with you I share.
When, heretofore, I placed before your sight
A most familiar object of our days-

A little one, subjected to the arts
Of modern ingenuity, and made

The senseless member of a vast machine,
Serving as doth a spindle or a wheel,

Think not that, pitying him, I could forget
The rustic boy, who walks the fields untaught,
The slave of ignorance, and oft of want,
And miserable hunger. Much-too much,
Of this unhappy lot, in early youth
We both have witness'd, lot which I myself
Shared, though in mild and merciful degree:
Yet was my mind to hindrances exposed,
Through which I struggled, not without distress
And sometime injury, like a sheep enthrall'd
'Mid thorns and brambles; or a bird that breaks
Through a strong net, and mounts upon the wind,
Though with her plumes impair'd. If they, whose souls
Should open while they range the richer fields
Of merry England, are obstructed less,
By indigence, their ignorance is not less,
Nor less to be deplored. For who can doubt
That tens of thousands at this day exist
Such as the boy you painted, lineal heirs
Of those who once were vassals of her soil,
Following its fortunes like the beasts or trees
Which it sustain'd. But no one takes delight
In this oppression; none are proud of it;
It bears no sounding name, nor ever bore;
A standing grievance, an indigenous vice
Of every country under heaven. My thoughts
Were turn'd to evils that are new and chosen,
A bondage lurking under shape of good,-
Arts, in themselves beneficent and kind,
But all too fondly follow'd and too far;
To victims, which the merciful can see

Nor think that they are victims, turn'd to wrongs,
Which women,
who have children of their own,
Regard without compassion, yea, with praise !
I spake of mischief which the wise diffuse
With gladness, thinking that the more it spreads,
The healthier, the securer, we become;
Delusion which a moment may destroy!
Lastly, I mourn'd for those whom I had seen
Corrupted and cast down, on favour'd ground,
Where circumstance and nature had combined
To shelter innocence, and cherish love :

Who, but for this intrusion, would have lived,
Possess'd of health, and strength, and peace of mind;
Thus would have lived, or never have been born.

"Alas! what differs more than man from man!

And whence that difference-whence but from himself? For see the universal race endow'd

With the same upright form -the sun is fix'd,

And the infinite magnificence of heaven,

Within the reach of every human eye;

The sleepless ocean murmurs for all ears;
The vernal field infuses fresh delight

Into all hearts. Throughout the world of sense,
Even as an object is sublime or fair,

That object is laid open to the view

Without reserve or veil; and as a power

Is salutary, or an influence sweet,

Are each and all enabled to perceive

That power, that influence, by impartial law.
Gifts nobler are vouchsafed alike to all;

Reason, and, with that reason, smiles and tears;

Imagination, freedom in the will;

Conscience to guide and check and death to be

Foretasted, immortality presumed.

Strange, then, nor less than monstrous, might be deem'd

The failure, if the Almighty, to this point

Liberal and undistinguishing, should hide

The excellence of moral qualities

From common understanding; leaving truth

And virtue, difficult, abstruse, and dark,

Hard to be won, and only by a few!

Strange, should He deal herein with nice respects,

And frustrate all the rest! Believe it not :

The primal duties shine aloft-like stars;
The charities that soothe, and heal, and bless,
Are scatter'd at the feet of man-like flowers.
The generous inclination, the just rule,
Kind wishes, and good actions, and
pure thoughts-
No mystery is here; no special boon
For high, and not for low; for proudly graced-
And not for meek of heart. The smoke ascends
To heaven as lightly from the cottage hearth
As from the haughty palace. He, whose soul

Ponders this true equality, may walk

The fields of earth with gratitude and hope;
Yet, in that meditation, will he find
Motive to sadder grief, as we have found;
Lamenting ancient virtues overthrown,

And for the injustice grieving, that hath made
So wide a difference betwixt man and man.

"Then let us rather fix our gladden'd thoughts
Upon the brighter scene. How blest that pair
Of blooming boys (whom we beheld even now)
Blest in their several and their common lot!
A few short hours of each returning day,
The thriving prisoners of their village school;
And thence let loose, to seek their pleasant homes
Or
range the grassy lawn in vacancy;

To breathe and to be happy, run and shout
Idle, but no delay, no harm, no loss;

For every genial power of heaven and earth,
Through all the seasons of the changeful year,
Obsequiously doth take upon herself

To labour for them-bringing each in turn
The tribute of enjoyment, knowledge, health,
Beauty, or strength! Such privilege is theirs,
Granted alike in the outset of their course
To both; and, if that partnership must cease,
I grieve not,"-to the Pastor here he turn d,
"Much as I glory in that child of yours,
Repine not for his cottage comrade, whom
Belike no higher destiny awaits

Than the old hereditary wish fulfill'd;

The wish for liberty to live-content

With what Heaven grants-and die, in peace of mind, Within the bosom of his native vale.

At least, whatever fate the noon of life

Reserves for either, this is sure, that both
Have been permitted to enjoy the dawn;
Whether regarded as a jocund time,
That in itself may terminate, or lead
In course of nature to a sober eve.

Both have been fairly dealt with; looking back

They will allow that justice has in them

Been shown, alike to body and to mind."

He paused, as if revolving in his soul
Some weighty matter; then, with fervent voice
And an impassion'd majesty, exclaim'd-

"Oh for the coming of that glorious time
When, prizing knowledge as her noblest wealth
And best protection, this imperial realm,
While she exacts allegiance, shall admit
An obligation, on her part, to teach
Them who are born to serve her and obey;
Binding herself by statute to secure