FROM THE EXCURSION.

I.

DESCRIPTION OF MIST OPENING IN THE HILLS.

WITH their freight homeward the shepherds moved
Through the dull mist, I following--when a step,

A single step, that freed me from the skirts

Of the blind vapour, opened to my view

Glory beyond all glory ever seen

By waking sense or by the dreaming soul!
The appearance, instantaneously disclosed,
Was of a mighty city-boldly say

A wilderness of building, sinking far
And self-withdrawn into a boundless depth,
Far sinking into splendour—without end !
Fabric it seemed of diamond and of gold,
With alabaster domes and silver spires:
And blazing terrace upon terrace, high
Uplifted; here, serene pavilions bright,
In avenues disposed; there, towers begirt
With battlements, that on their restless fronts
Bore stars-illumination of all gems!

By earthly nature had the effect been wrought
Upon the dark materials of the storm

Now pacified; on them, and on the coves

And mountain steeps and summits, whereunto

The vapours had receded, taking there

Their station under a cerulean sky!

Oh, 'twas an unimaginable sight!

Clouds, mists, streams, watery rocks, and emerald turf,

Clouds of all tincture, rocks and sapphire sky,

Confused, commingled, mutually inflamed,

Molten together, and composing thus,

Each lost in each, that marvellous array

Of temple, palace, citadel, and huge

Fantastic pomp of structure without name,
In fleecy folds voluminous, enwrapp’d.

Right in the midst, where interspace appear'd
Of open court, an object like a throne
Under a shining canopy of state

Stood fixed; and fixed resemblances were seen

To implements of ordinary use,

But vast in size, in substance glorified;

Such as by Hebrew Prophets were beheld

In vision-forms uncouth of mightiest power,
For admiration and mysterious awe.
This little vale, a dwelling-place of man,
Lay low beneath my feet; 'twas visible-
I saw not, but I felt, that it was there.
That which I saw was the revealed abode
Of spirits in beatitude: my heart

Swelled in my breast. “I HAVE BEEN DEAD," I cried, "And now I live! Oh! wherefore do I live?

-Book II.

II.

THE SOUL'S PERCEPTION.

I HAVE seen

A curious child, who dwelt upon a tract
Of inland ground, applying to his ear
The convolutions of a smooth-lipped shell;
To which, in silence hushed, his very soul
Listened intensely; and his countenance soon
Brightened with joy; for from within were heard
Murmurings, whereby the monitor expressed
Mysterious union with its native sea.

Even such a shell the universe itself
Is to the ear of faith; and there are times,
I doubt not, when to you it doth impart
Authentic tidings of invisible things;
Of ebb and flow, and ever-during power;
And central peace, subsisting at the heart
Of endless agitation. Here you stand,
Adore and worship, when you know it not;
Pious beyond the intention of your thought,
Devout above the meaning of your will.
Yes, you have felt, and may not cease to feel. -
The estate of man would be indeed forlorn,
If false conclusions of the reasoning power
Made the eye blind, and closed the passages
Through which the ear converses with the heart.
Has not the soul, the being of your life,
Received a shock of awful consciousness,
In some calm season, when these lofty rocks
At night's approach bring down the unclouded sky
To rest upon their circumambient walls ;

A temple framing of dimensions vast,
And yet not too enormous for the sound

Of human anthems,-choral song, or burst
Sublime of instrumental harmony,

To glorify the Eternal! What if these
Did never break the stillness that prevails
Here if the solemn nightingale be mute,
And the soft woodlark here did never chant
Her vespers-Nature fails not to provide
Impulse and utterance. The whispering air
Sends inspiration from the shadowy heights
And blind recesses of the caverned rocks;
The little rills, and waters numberless,
Inaudible by daylight, blend their notes
With the loud streams; and often, at the hour
When issue forth the first pale stars, is heard,
Within the circuit of this fabric huge,
One voice-the solitary raven, flying

Athwart the concave of the dark-blue dome,
Unseen, perchance above all power of sight-
An iron knell! with echoes from afar,
Faint-and still fainter-as the cry, with which
The wanderer accompanies her flight
Through the calm region, fades upon the ear,
Diminishing by distance till it seemed

To expire; yet from the abyss is caught again,
And yet again recovered!

-Book IV.

III.

POWER OF THE SOUL.

WITHIN the soul a faculty abides,
That with interpositions, which would hide
And darken, so can deal, that they become
Contingencies of pomp; and serve to exalt
Her native brightness. As the ample moon,
In the deep stillness of a summer even
Rising behind a thick and lofty grove,
Burns like an unconsuming fire of light
In the green trees; and, kindling on all sides
Their leafy umbrage, turns the dusky veil
Into a substance glorious as her own,
Yea, with her own incorporated, by power
Capacious and serene. Like power abides
In man's celestial spirit.

-Book IV.

STRAY LINES FROM THE EXCURSION.

The vision and the faculty divine,
Yet wanting the accomplishment of verse.

-Book I.

The intellectual power, through words and things Went sounding on, a dim and perilous way.

-Book III.

The most difficult of tasks to keep

Heights which the soul is competent to gain.

-Book IV.

Persuasion and belief

Had ripened into faith, and faith become
A passionate intuition.

-Book IV.

These imaginative heights, that yield
Far-stretching views into Eternity.

--Book IV.

Ah! what a warning for a thoughtless man,
Could field or grove, could any spot of earth,
Show to his eye an image of the pangs
Which it hath witnessed,-render back an echo
Of the sad steps by which it hath been trod.

--Book VI.

Deposited upon the silent shore

Of memory, images and precious thoughts
That shall not die, and cannot be destroyed.

A man he seems of cheerful yesterdays
And confident to-morrows.

-Book VII.

-Book VII.

Not for these sad issues was man created; but to obey

His mind gives back the various forms of things
Caught in their fairest, happiest attitude.

--Book IX.

The primal duties shine aloft like stars;
The charities that soothe and heal and bless
Are scattered at the feet of Man like flowers.

-Book IX.

CHARACTER OF THE HAPPY WARRIOR.

WHO is the happy warrior? Who is he
Whom every man in arms should wish to be?
---It is the generous spirit, who, when brought
Among the tasks of real life, hath wrought
Upon the plan that pleased his boyish thought:
Whose high endeavours are an inward light
That makes the path before him always bright:
Who, with a natural instinct to discern
What knowledge can perform, is diligent to learn;
Abides by this resolve, and stops not there,
But makes his moral being his prime care;
Who, doomed to go in company with pain,
And fear, and bloodshed, miserable train!
Turns his necessity to glorious gain;
In face of these doth exercise a power
Which is our human nature's highest dower;