BOOK FIRST

COL.COLL.

LIBRARY
N.YORK.

THE WANDERER.

'Twas summer, and the sun had mounted high: Southward the landscape indistinctly glared

Through a pale steam; but all the northern downs,

In clearest air ascending, shew'd far off

A surface dappled o'er with shadows flung

From many a brooding cloud; far as the sight
Could reach, those many shadows lay in spots
Determined and unmoved, with steady beams
Of bright and pleasant sunshine interposed.
Pleasant to him who on the soft cool moss
Extends his careless limbs along the front

Of some huge cave, whose rocky ceiling casts

A twilight of its own, an ample shade,

Where the wren warbles; while the dreaming Man,
Half conscious of the soothing melody,

With side-long eye looks out upon the scene,
By that impending covert made more soft,
More low and distant! Other lot was mine;
Yet with good hope that soon I should obtain
As grateful resting-place, and livelier joy.
Across a bare wide Common I was toiling
With languid feet, which by the slippery ground
Were baffled; nor could my weak arm disperse
The host of insects gathering round my face,
And ever with me as I paced along.

Upon that open level stood a Grove,

The wished-for port to which my steps were bound.
Thither I came, and there, amid the gloom

Spread by a brotherhood of lofty elms,
Appeared a roofless hut; four naked walls.

That stared upon each other! I looked round,

And to my wish and to my hope espied

Him whom I sought; a Man of reverend age,

But stout and hale, for travel unimpaired.

There was he seen upon the Cottage bench,
Recumbent in the shade, as if asleep;

An iron-pointed staff lay at his side.

Him had I marked the day before — alone

And in the middle of the public way

Stationed, as if to rest himself, with face

Turned tow'rds the sun then setting, while that staff

Afforded to his Figure, as he stood,

Detained for contemplation or repose,

Graceful support; the countenance of the Man
Was hidden from my view, and he himself
Unrecognized; but, stricken by the sight,
With slacken'd footsteps I advanced, and soon
A glad congratulation we exchanged

At such unthought-of meeting. For the night

-

We parted, nothing willingly; and now

He by appointment waited for me here,

Beneath the shelter of these clustering elms.

Childhood

up

We were tried Friends: I from my
Had known him. In a little Town obscure,