Into an instrument of deadly bane For those, who, yet untempted to forsake The simple occupations of their sires, Drink the pure water of its innocent stream With lip almost as pure. Domestic bliss, (Or call it comfort, by a humbler name,) How art thou blighted for the poor man's heart; Lo in such neighbourhood, from morn to eve, The habitations empty! or perchance The mother left alone, no helping hand To rock the cradle of her peevish babe; No daughters round her busy at the wheel, Or in despatch of each day's little growth Of household occupation; no nice arts Of needle-work; no bustle at the fire, Where once the dinner was prepared with pride; Nothing to speed the day, or cheer the mind; Nothing to praise, to teach, or to command; The father, if perchance he still retain His old employments, goes to field or wood, No longer led or followed by the sons; Idlers perchance they were, but in his sight; Breathing fresh air, and treading the green earth; fill their short holyday of childhood ceased, Ne'er to return! That birthright now is lost. Economists will tell you that the state Thrives by the forfeiture,-unfeeling thought, And false as monstrous! Can the mother thrive By the destruction of her innocent sons? In whom a premature necessity
Blocks out the forms of nature, preconsumes The reason, famishes the heart, shuts up The infant being in itself, and makes Its very spring a season of decay! The lot is wretched, the condition sad, Whether a pining discontent survive,
And thirst for change; or habit hath subdued The soul deprest, dejected-even to love Of her dull tasks, and close captivity. O, banish far such wisdom as condemns A native Briton to these inward chains, Fix'd in his soul, so early and so deep, Without his own consent, or knowledge, fix'd! He is a slave to whom release comes not, And cannot come. The boy, where'er he turns, Is still a prisoner; when the wind is up Among the clouds and in the ancient woods; Or when the sun is shining in the east, Quiet and calm. Behold him, in the school Of his attainments? no; but with the air Fanning his temples under heaven's blue arch. His raiment whiten'd o'er with cotton flakes, Or locks of wool, announces whence he comes. Creeping his gait and cowering, his lip pale, His respiration quick and audible;
And scarcely could you fancy that a gleam From out those languid eyes could break, or blush Mantle upon his cheek. Is this the form, Is that the countenance, and such the port, Of no mean being? One who should be clothed With dignity befitting his proud hope; Who, in his very childhood, should appear Sublime, from present purity and joy? The limbs increase, but liberty of mind Is gone for ever; this organic frame, So joyful in her motions, is become
Dull, to the joy of her own motions dead; And e'en the touch, so exquisitely pour'd Through the whole body, with a languid will Performs her functions; rarely competent T'impress a vivid feeling on the mind Of what there is delightful in the breeze, The gentle visitations of the sun,
Or lapse of liquid element, by hand,
Or foot, or lip, in summer's warmth, perceived. Can hope look forward to a manhood raised On such foundations ?"
"Hope is none for him!" The pale recluse indignantly exclaim'a, "And tens of thousands suffer wrong as deep. Yet be it ask'd, in justice to our age,
If there were not, before those arts appear'd, These structures rose, commingling old and young, And unripe sex with sex, for mutual taint; Then, if there were not in our far-famed isle, Multitudes, who from infancy had breathed Air unimprisoned, and had lived at large; Yet walk'd beneath the sun, in human shape, As abject, as degraded? At this day, Who shall enumerate the crazy huts And tottering hovels, whence do issue forth A ragged offspring, with their own blanch'd hair Crown'd like the image of fantastic fear;
Or wearing, we might say, in that white growth An ill-adjusted turban, for defence
Or fierceness, wreathed around their sunburnt brows,
By savage nature's unassisted care.
Naked, and coloured like the soil, the feet On which they stand; as if thereby they drew Some nourishment, as trees do by their roots, From earth the common mother of us all. Figure and mien, complexion and attire,
Are leagued to strike dismay, but outstretch'd hand And whining voice denote them supplicants For the least boon that pity can bestow. Such on the breast of darksome heaths are found; And with their parents dwell upon the skirts Of furze-clad commons; such are born and rear'd At the mine's mouth, beneath impending rocks, Or in the chambers of some natural cave; And where their ancestors erected huts, For the convenience of unlawful gain, In forest purlieus; and the like are bred, All England through, where nooks and slips of ground,
Purloin'd, in times less jealous than our own, From the green margin of the public way, A residence afford them, 'mid the bloom And gayety of cultivated fields.
Such (we will hope the lowest in the scale) Do I remember oft-times to have seen 'Mid Buxton's dreary heights. Upon the watch, Till the swift vehicle approach, they stand; Then, following closely with the cloud of dust, An uncouth feat exhibit, and are gone Heels over head, like tumblers on a stage. Up from the ground they snatch the copper coin And, on the freight of merry passengers Fixing a steady eye, maintain their speed; And spin-and pant-and overhead again, Wild pursuivants! until their breath is lost,
Or bounty tires, and every face that smiled Encouragement, hath ceased to look that way. But, like the vagrants of the gipsy tribe, These, bred to little pleasure in themselves, Are profitless to others. Turn we then To Britons born and bred within the pale Of civil polity, and early train'd
To earn, by wholesome labour in the field, The bread they eat. A sample should I give Of what this stock produces to enrich The tender age of life, ye would exclaim,
With pure cerulean gravel from the heights Fetch'd by the neighbouring brook. Across the vale The stately fence accompanied our steps; And thus the pathway, by perennial green Guarded and graced, seemed fashion'd to unite, As by a beautiful yet solemn chain,
The pastor's mansion with the house of prayer. Like image of solemnity, conjoin'd With feminine allurement soft and fair, The mansion's self display'd; a reverend pile With bold projections and recesses deep;
Is this the whistling ploughboy whose shrill notes Shadowy, yet gay and lightsome as it stood
Impart new gladness to the morning air!' Forgive me if I venture to suspect That many, sweet to hear of in soft verse, Are of no finer frame: his joints are stiff; Beneath a cumbrous frock, that to the knees Invests the thriving churl, his legs appear, Fellows to those that lustily upheld The wooden stools for everlasting use, Whereon our fathers sate. And mark his brow! Under whose shaggy canopy are set
Two eyes, not dim, but of a healthy stare; Wide, sluggish, blank, and ignorant, and strange; Proclaiming boldly that they never drew A look or motion of intelligence
From infant conning of the Christ-cross-row, Or puzzling through a primer, line by line, Till perfect mastery crown the pains at last. What kindly warmth from touch of fostering hand, What penetrating power of sun or breeze, Shall e'er dissolve the crust wherein his soul Sleeps, like a caterpillar sheath'd in ice? This torpor is no pitiable work Of modern ingenuity; no town Nor crowded city may be tax'd with aught Of sottish vice or desperate breach of law To which in after years he may be roused. This boy the fields produce: his spade and hoe- The carter's whip that on his shoulder rests In air high-towering with a boorish pomp, The sceptre of his sway; his country's name, Her equal rights, her churches and her schools- What have they done for him? And let me ask, For tens of thousands uninform'd as he? In brief, what liberty of mind is here ?"
This ardent sally pleased the mild, good man, To whom the appeal couched in its closing words Was pointedly address'd: and to the thoughts That, in assent or opposition, rose
Within his mind, he seem'd prepared to give Prompt utterance; but, rising from our seat, The hospitable vicar interposed With invitation urgently renew'd. We followed, taking as he led, a path Along a hedge of hollies, dark and tall, Whose flexile boughs, descending with a weight Of leafy spray, conceal'd the stems and roots That gave them nourishment. When frosty winds Howl from the north, what kindly warmth, me- thought,
Is here, how grateful this impervious screen; Not shaped by simple wearing of the foot On rural business passing to and fro Was the commodious walk; a careful hand
Had mark'd the line, and strewn the surface o'er
Fronting the noontide sun. We paused t' admire The pillar'd porch, elaborately emboss'd; The low wide windows with their mullions old; The cornice richly fretted, of grey stone; And that smooth slope from which the dwelling rose,
By beds and banks Arcadian of gay flowers And flowering shrubs, protected and adorn'd; Profusion bright! and every flower assuming A more than natural vividness of hue, From unaffected contrast with the gloom Of sober cypress, and the darker foil
Of yew, in which survived some traces, here Not unbecoming, of grotesque device And uncouth fancy. From behind the roof Rose the slim ash and massy sycamore, Blending their diverse foliage with the green Of ivy, flourishing and thick, that clasp'd The huge round chimneys, harbour of delight For wren and redbreast, where they sit and sing Their slender ditties when the trees are bare. Nor must I leave untouch'd (the picture else Were incomplete) a relique of old times Happily spared, a little gothic niche Of nicest workmanship: that once had held The sculptured image of some patron saint, Or of the blessed virgin, looking down On all who entered those religious doors.
But lo! where from the rocky garden mount Crown'd by its antique summer house, descends, Light as the silver fawn, a radiant girl; For she hath recognised her honour'd friend, The wanderer ever welcome! A prompt kiss The gladsome child bestows at his request; And, up the flowery lawn as we advance, Hangs on the old man with a happy look, And with a pretty, restless hand of love. We enter, by the lady of the place Cordially greeted. Graceful was her port: A lofty stature undepress'd by time, Whose visitation had not wholly spared The finer lineaments of form and face; To that complexion brought which prudence trusts
And wisdom loves. But when a stately ship Sails in smooth weather by the placid coast On homeward voyage, what, if wind and wave, And hardship undergone in various climes, Have caused her to abate the virgin pride, And that full trim of inexperienced hope With which she left her haven, not for this, Should the sun strike her, and the impartial breeze Play on her streamers, fails she to assume Brightness and touching beauty of her own,
That charm all eyes. So bright, so fair, appear'd This goodly matron, shining in the beams Of unexpected pleasure. Soon the board Was spread, and we partook a plain repast. Here, resting in cool shelter, we beguiled The midday hours with desultory talk; From trivial themes to general argument Passing, as accident or fancy led,
Or courtesy prescribed. While question rose And answer flow'd, the fetters of reserve Dropping from every mind, the solitary Resumed the manners of his happier days; And, in the various conversation, bore A willing, nay, at times, a forward part: Yet with the grace of one who in the world Had learn'd the art of pleasing, and had now Occasion given him to display his skill, Upon the steadfast vantage-ground of truth. He gazed with admiration unsuppress'd Upon the landscape of the sunbright vale, Seen, from the shady room in which we sate, In soften'd perspective; and more than once Praised the consummate harmony serene Of gravity and elegance-diffused Around the mansion and its whole domain; Not, doubtless, without help of female taste And female care. "A blessed lot is yours!" The words escaped his lip with a tender sigh Breathed over them; but suddenly the door Flew open, and a pair of lusty boys Appear'd, confusion checking their delight. Not brothers they in feature or attire, But fond companions, so I guess'd, in field, And by the river's margin, whence they come, Anglers elated with unusual spoil. One bears a willow pannier on his back, The boy of plainer garb, whose blush survives More deeply tinged. Twin might the other be To that fair girl who from the garden mount Bounded triumphant entry this for him! Between his hands he holds a smooth blue stone, On whose capacious surface see outspread Large store of gleaming crimson-spotted trouts; Ranged side by side, and lessening by degrees Up to the dwarf that tops the pinnacle. Upon the board he lays the sky-blue stone With its rich freight:-their number he proclaims; Tells from what pool the noblest had been dragg'd; And where the very monarch of the brook, After long struggle, had escaped at last- Stealing alternately at them and us (As doth his comrade too) a look of pride; And, verily, the silent creatures made A splendid sight, together thus exposed; Dead-but not sullied or deform'd by death, That seem'd to pity what he could not spare. But O, the animation in the mien
Of those two boys! yea, in the very words With which the young narrator was inspired, When, as our questions led, he told at large Of that day's prowess. Him might I compare, His look, tones, gestures, eager eloquence, To a bold brook that splits for better speed, And, at the selfsame moment, works its way Through many channels, ever and anon Parted and reunited: his compeer
To the still lake, whose stillness is to sight
As beautiful, as grateful to the mind. But to what object shall the lovely girl
Be liken'd? She, whose countenance and air Unite the graceful qualities of both,
E'en as she shares the pride and joy of both. My gray-hair'd friend was moved: his vivid eye Glisten'd with tenderness; his mind, I knew, Was full; and had, I doubted not, return'd, Upon this impulse, to the theme-erewhile Abruptly broken off. The ruddy boys Withdrew, on summons, to their well-earn'd meal; And he, (to whom all tongues resign'd their rights With willingness, to whom the general ear Listen'd with readier patience than to strain Of music, lute or harp,-a long delight
That ceased not when his voice had ceased,) as ne Who from truth's central point serenely views The compass of his argument-began Mildly, and with a clear and steady tone.
DISCOURSE OF THE WANDERER, AND AN EVENING VISIT TO THE LAKE.
Wanderer asserts that an active principle pervades the universe. Its noblest seat the human soul. How lively this principle is in childhood. Hence the delight in old age of looking back upon childhood. The dignity, powers, and privileges of age asserted. These not to be looked for generally but under a just government Right of a human creature to be exempt from being considered as a mere instrument. Vicious inclinations are best kept under by giving good ones an opportunity to show themselves. The condition of multitudes deplored, from want of due respect to this truth on the part of their superiors in society. Former conversation recurred to, and the wanderer's opinions set in a clearer light. Genuine principles of equality. Truth placed within reach of the humblest. Happy state of the two boys again adverted to. Earnest wish expressed for a system of national education established universally by government. Glorious effects of this foretold. Wanderer breaks off. Walk to the lake. Embark. Description of scenery and amusements. Grand spectacle from the side of a hill. Address of priest to the Supreme Being; in the course of which he contrasts with ancient barbarism the present appearance of the scene before him. The change ascribed to Christianity. Apostrophe to his flock, living and dead. Gratitude to the Almighty. Return over the lake. Parting with the solitary. Under what circumstances.
"To every form of being is assign'd," Thus calmly spake the venerable sage, "An active principle:-howe'er removed From sense and observation, it subsists In all things, in all natures, in the stars Of azure heaven, the unenduring clouds, In flower and tree, in every pebbly stone That paves the brooks, the stationary rocks, The moving waters, and th' invisible air. Whate'er exists hath properties that spread Beyond itself, communicating good A simple blessing, or with evil mix'd; Spirit that knows no insulated spot, No chasm, no solitude; from link to link It circulates, the soul of all the worlds.
This is the freedom of the universe; Unfolded still the more, more visible,
The more we know; and yet is reverenced least, And least respected, in the human mind, Its most apparent home. The food of hope Is meditated action; robb'd of this Her sole support, she languishes and dies. We perish also; for we live by hope And by desire; we see by the glad light, And breathe the sweet air of futurity, And so we live, or else we have no life. To-morrow-nay, perchance this very hour,— (For every moment hath its own to-morrow!) Those blooming boys, whose hearts are almost sick With present triumph, will be sure to find A field before them freshen'd with the dew Of other expectations;-in which course 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, thence can hear Reverberations, and a choral song, Commingling with the incense that ascends Undaunted, toward the imperishable heavens, From her own lonely altar? Do not think That good and wise ever will 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, that 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 herself, 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, visits 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 seul, 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 that the severing should confer Fresh power t' commune with the 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 ensure. 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, e'en so far, Country, society, and time itself,
That saps the individual's bodily frame, And lays the generations low in dust, Do, by the 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 oft-times 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 distemper from the busy day, And make the chalice of the big round year Run o'er with gladness; 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 force 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
Th' oppressor breathes, their human form divine And their immortal soul may waste away."
Fix'd 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, E'en as an object is sublime or fair,
The sage rejoin'd, "I thank you; you have That object is laid open to the view 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 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 the mind to hinderances exposed, Through which I struggled, not without distress And sometimes injury, like a lamb 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 beast 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
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 th' 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 th' injustice grieving, that hath made So wide a difference betwixt man and man.
"But let us rather turn our gladden'd thoughts Upon the brighter scene. How blest the pair Of blooming boys (whom we beheld e'en 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, Though 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 th' outset of their course To both; and, if that partnership must cease, I grieve not," to the pastor here he turn'd,
Nor think that they are victims; turn'd to wrongs? By women, who have children of their own, Beheld without compassion, yea with praise! I spake of mischief by the wise diffused 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" Much as I glory in that child of yours,
For see the universal race endow'd
With the same upright form! The sun is fix'd, And th' infinite magnificence of heaven,
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
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