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 armed 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 ragged 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 So grounded, so applied, that it was heard With softened spirit, even when it condemned.
Such intercourse I witnessed, while we roved, Now as his choice directed, now as mine; Or both, with equal readiness of will,
Our course submitting to the changeful breeze Of accident. But when the rising sun Had three times called us to renew our walk, My Fellow-traveller, with earnest voice, As if the thought were but a moment old, Claimed absolute dominion for the day. We started and he led me toward the hills, Up through an ample vale, with higher hills Before us, mountains stern and desolate; But, in the majesty of distance, now Set off, and to our ken appearing fair Of aspect, with aërial softness clad, And beautified with morning's purple beams.
The wealthy, the luxurious, by the stress Of business roused, or pleasure, ere their time, May roll in chariots, or provoke the hoofs Of the fleet coursers they bestride, to raise From earth the dust of morning, slow to rise; And they, if blest with health and hearts at ease,
Shall lack not their enjoyment:-but how faint Compared with ours! who, pacing side by side, Could, with an eye of leisure, look on all That we beheld; and lend the listening sense To every grateful sound of earth and air; Pausing at will-our spirits braced, our thoughts Pleasant as roses in the thickets blown, And pure as dew bathing their crimson leaves.
Mount slowly, sun! that we may journey long, By this dark hill protected from thy beams! Such is the summer pilgrim's frequent wish; But quickly from among our morning thoughts 'Twas chased away: for, toward the western side Of the broad vale, casting a casual glance, We saw a throng of people ;-wherefore met? Blithe notes of music, suddenly let loose On the thrilled ear, and flags uprising, yield Prompt answer; they proclaim the annual Wake, Which the bright season favours.-Tabor and pipe In purpose join to hasten or reprove
The laggard Rustic; and repay with boons Of merriment a party-coloured knot, Already formed upon the village green. -Beyond the limits of the shadow cast By the broad hill, glistened upon our sight That gay assemblage. Round them and above, Glitter, with dark recesses interposed,
Casement, and cottage-roof, and stems of trees
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