Or with too brief a warning, to admit Administration of the holy rite
That lovingly consigns the babe to th' arms Of Jesus, and his everlasting care.
These, that in trembling hope are laid apart; And the besprinkled nursling, unrequired Till he begins to smile upon the breast That feeds him; and the tott'ring little one, Taken from air and sunshine when the rose Of infancy first blooms upon his cheek;
The thinking, thoughtless schoolboy; the bold youth, Of soul impetuous, and the bashful maid, Smitten while all the promises of life
Are opening round her; those of middle age, Cast down while confident in strength they stand, Like pillars fix'd more firmly, as might seem, And more secure, by very weight of all That, for support, rests on them; the decay'd And burthensome; and, lastly, that poor few Whose light of reason is with age extinct; The hopeful and the hopeless, first and last, The earliest summon'd and the longest spared,- Are here deposited, with tribute paid Various; but unto each some tribute paid, As if, amid these peaceful hills and groves, Society were touch'd with kind concern,
And gentle Nature grieved that one should die ;' Or, if the change demanded no regret, Observed the liberating stroke-and bless'd.
And whence that tribute-wherefore these regards? Not from the naked heart alone of man (Though framed to high distinction upon earth As the sole spring and fountain-head of tears, His own peculiar utterance for distress Or gladness)-No," the philosophic Priest Continued, " 'tis not in the vital seat Of feeling to produce them, without aid From the pure soul, the soul sublime and pure; With her two faculties of eye and ear,-
The one by which a creature, whom his sins
Have render'd prone, can upward look to heaven- The other, that empowers him to perceive
The voice of Deity, on height and plain,
Whisp'ring those truths in stillness, which the Word To the four quarters of the winds proclaims. Not without such assistance could the use
Of these benign observances prevail.
Thus are they born, thus foster'd and maintain'd; And, by the care prospective of our wise
Forefathers, who, to guard against the shocks, The fluctuation and decay of things,
Embodied and establish'd these high truths In solemn institutions: men convinced
That life is love and immortality,
The being one, and one the element. There lies the channel and original bed, From the beginning hollow'd out and scoop'd For man's affections-else betray'd and lost, And swallow'd up 'mid deserts infinite! This is the genuine course, the aim, and end Of prescient reason; all conclusions else Are abject, vain, presumptuous, and perverso. The faith partaking of those holy times, Life, I repeat, is energy of love, Divine or human, exercised in pain, In strife, and tribulation, and ordain'd, If so approved and sanctified, to pass, Through shades and silent rest, to endless joy."
THE CHURCHYARD AMONG THE MOUNTAINS.
Poet's Address to the State and Church of England-The Pastor not inferior to the ancient worthies of the Church-He begins his narratives with an instance of unrequited love -Anguish of mind subdued-And how-The lonely miner an instance of perseverance, which leads by contrast to an example of abused talents, irresolution, and weaknessSolitary, applying this covertly to his own case, asks for an instance of some stranger whose dispositions may have led him to end his days here-Pastor, in answer, gives an account of the harmonizing influence of solitude upon two men of opposite principles, who had encountered agitations in public life-The rule by which peace may be obtained expressed-And where-Solitary hints at an overpowering Fatality-Answer of the Pastor-What subjects he will exclude from his narrative; conversation upon thisInstance of an unamiable character, a female-And why given-Contrasted with this, a meek sufferer, from unguarded and betrayed love-Instance of heavier guilt-And its consequences to the offender-With this instance of a marriage contract broken is contrasted one of a widower, evincing his faithful affection towards his deceased wife by his care of their female children-Second marriage of widower prudential and happy.
HAIL to the crown by freedom shaped to gird An English sovereign's brow-and to the throne Whereon he sits! whose deep foundations lie In veneration and the people's love; Whose steps are equity, whose seat is law. -Hail to the State of England! And conjoin With this a salutation as devout,
Made to the spiritual fabric of her Church; Founded in truth; by blood of martyrdom Cemented; by the hands of wisdom rear'd In beauty of holiness, with order'd pomp, Decent and unreproved. The voice, that greets The majesty of both, shall pray for both; That mutually protected and sustain'd, They may endure as long as sea surrounds This favour'd land, or sunshine warms her soil. And oh, ye swelling hills, and spacious plains! Besprent from shore to shore with steeple-towers, And spires whose "silent finger points to heaven;" Nor wanting, at wide intervals, the bulk Of ancient minster, lifted above the cloud
Of the dense air which town or city breeds To intercept the sun's glad beams-may ne'er That true succession fail of English hearts, That can perceive, not less than heretofore Our ancestors did feelingly perceive, What in those holy structures ye possess Of ornamental interest, and the charm Of pious sentiment diffused afar, And human charity, and social love. Thus never shall th' indignities of time Approach their reverend graces unopposed; Nor shall the elements be free to hurt Their fair proportions; nor the blinder rage Of bigot zeal madly to overturn;
And, if the desolating hand of war
Spare them, they shall continue to bestow, Upon the throng'd abodes of busy men (Depraved, and ever prone to fill their minds Exclusively with transitory things) An air and mien of dignified pursuit ; Of sweet civility on rustic wilds.
The poet, fostering for his native land
Such hope, entreats that servants may abound Of those pure altars worthy; ministers Detach'd from pleasure, to the love of gain Superior, insusceptible of pride,
And by ambition's longings undisturb'd; Men, whose delight is where their duty leads Or fixes them; whose least distinguish'd day Shines with some portion of that heavenly lustre Which makes the Sabbath lovely in the sight Of blessed angels, pitying human cares. And, as on earth it is the doom of truth To be perpetually attack'd by foes Open or covert, be that priesthood still, For her defence, replenish'd with a band Of strenuous champions, in scholastic arts Thoroughly disciplined; nor (if in course Of the revolving world's disturbances
Cause should recur, which righteous Heaven avert ! To meet such trial) from their spiritual sires Degenerate; who, constrain'd to wield the sword Of disputation, shrunk not, though assail'd With hostile din, and combating in sight Of angry umpires, partial and unjust; And did, thereafter, bathe their hands in fire,
So to declare the conscience satisfied:
Nor for their bodies would accept release;
But, blessing God and praising him, bequeath'd
With their last breath, from out the smouldering flame, The faith which they by diligence had earn'd, And through illuminating grace received, For their dear countrymen, and all mankind. O high example, constancy divine !
Even such a man (inheriting the zeal And from the sanctity of elder times Not deviating,-a priest, the like of whom, If multiplied, and in their stations set, Would o'er the bosom of a joyful land Spread true religion and her genuine fruits) Before me stood that day; on holy ground Fraught with the relics of mortality, Exalting tender themes, by just degrees To lofty raised; and to the highest, last; The head and mighty paramount of truths; Immortal life, in never-fading worlds, For mortal creatures, conquer'd and secured.
That basis laid, those principles of faith Announced, as a preparatory act Of reverence to the spirit of the place, The Pastor cast his eyes upon the ground; Not, as before, like one oppress'd with awe, But with a mild and social cheerfulness; Then to the Solitary turn'd and spake.
"At morn or eve, in your retired domain, Perchance you not unfrequently have mark'd A visitor, intent upon the task
Of prying, low and high, for herbs and flowers; Too delicate employ, as would appear,
For one who, though of drooping mien, had yet From nature's kindliness received a frame Robust as ever rural labour bred."
The Solitary answer'd: "Such a form Full well I recollect. We often cross'd Each other's path; but, as th' intruder seem'd Fondly to prize the silence which he kept, And I as willingly did cherish mine,
We met, and pass'd like shadows. I have heard, From my good host, that he was crazed in brain' By unrequited love, and scaled the rocks, Dived into caves, and pierced the matted woods, In hope to find some virtuous herb of power To cure his malady!"
"Alas! before to-morrow's sun goes down, His habitation will be here: for him
That open grave is destined."
Believe it not-oh, never could that be!"
Of pain and grief?" the Solitary ask'd;
"He loved," the Vicar answer'd, "deeply loved,
Loved fondly, truly, fervently; and pined
When he had told his love, and sued in vain ;
Rejected, yea repell'd; and, if with scorn
Upon the haughty maiden's brow, 'tis but
A high-prized plume which female beauty wears. That he could brook, and glory in; but when The tidings came that she whom he had woo'd Was wedded to another, and his heart Was forced to rend away its only hope; Then, Pity could have scarcely found on earth An object worthier of regard than he,
In the transition of that bitter hour.
Lost was she-lost! nor could the sufferer say That in the act of preference he had been Unjustly dealt with; but the maid was gone! She, whose dear name with unregarded sighs He long had bless'd, whose image was preserved- Shrined in his breast with fond idolatry, Had vanish'd from his prospects and desires; Not by translation to the heavenly choir Who have put off their mortal spoils-ah no! She lives another's wishes to complete,— 'Joy be their lot, and happiness,' he cried,- 'His lot and hers, as misery is mine!'
"Such was that strong concussion; but the man, Who trembled, trunk and limbs, like some huge oak By a fierce tempest shaken, soon resumed
The steadfast quiet natural to a mind
Of composition gentle and sedate,
And, in its movements, circumspect and slow.
Of rustic parents bred, he had been train'd
(So prompted their aspiring wish) to skill
In numbers, and the sedentary art
Of penmanship,-with pride profess'd, and taught By his endeavours in the mountain dales.
Now, those sad tidings weighing on his heart, To books, and papers, and the studious desk, He stoutly re-address'd himself-resolved To quell his pain, and enter on the path Of old pursuits with keener appetite And closer industry. Of what ensued Within his soul no outward sign appear'd,
Till a betraying sickliness was seen
To tinge his cheek; and through his frame it crept With slow mutation unconcealable;
Such universal change as autumn makes In the fair body of a leafy grove Discolour'd, then divested. 'Tis affirm'd By poets skill'd in Nature's secret ways That Love would not submit to be controll'd
By mastery and the good man lack'd not friends Who strove t' instil this truth into his mind,
A mind in all heart-mysteries unversed. 'Go to the hills,' said one, 'remit a while This baneful diligence: at early morn
Court the fresh air, explore the heaths and woods; And, leaving it to others to foretell,
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