A sample fairly cull'd-ye would exclaim,
'Is this the whistling ploughboy whose shrill notes
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 which lustily upheld
The wooden stools for everlasting use,

On which 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 mast'ry crown the pains at last.
What kindly warmth from touch of fost' ring 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 which 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 cheerful sally pleased the mild good man,
To whom the appeal couch'd in those closing words
Was pointedly address'd; and to the thoughts
Which, 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 earnestly renew'd.

We follow'd, taking as he led, a path

Along a hedge of stately hollies framed,

Whose flexile boughs, descending with a weight

Of leafy spray, conceal'd the stems and roots

That gave them nourishment. How sweet, methought,

When the fierce wind comes howling from the north,

How grateful, this impenetrable 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 strown the surface o'er
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, seem'd 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;
Shadowy, yet gay and lightsome as it stood
Fronting the noontide sun. We paused to 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 pass unnoticed (leaving else
The picture incomplete, as it appear'd
Before our eyes) a relique of old times
Happily spared, a little Gothic niche

Of nicest workmanship; which once had held
The sculptured image of some patron saint,
Or of the blessèd Virgin, looking down
On all who enter'd 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 recognized 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; need I tell the courteous guise
In which the lady of the place received

Our little band, with salutation meet
To each accorded? Graceful was her port;
A lofty stature undepress'd by time,
Whose visitation had not spared to touch
The finer lineaments of frame and face;

To that complexion brought which prudence trusts in
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, doth she fail to assume
Brightness and touching beauty of her own,
That charm all eyes-so bright to us appear'd
This goodly matron, shining in the beams
Of unexpected pleasure. Soon the board
Was spread, and we partook a plain repast.

Here in cool shelter, while the scorching heat
Oppress'd the fields, we sate, and entertain'd
The mid-day 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

Dropp'd from our minds; and even the shy Recluse
Resumed the manners of his happier days;

He in the various conversation bore

A willing, and, 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 stedfast 'vantage ground of truth.
He gazed with admiration unsuppress'd
Upon the landscape of the sun-bright 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!
He said, and with that exclamation breathed
A tender sigh; but, suddenly the door
Opening, with eager haste two 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 side-from which they come,
A pair of anglers, laden with their spoil.
One bears a willow pannier on his back,

The boy of plainer garb, and more abash'd
In countenance-more distant and retired.
Twin might the other be to that fair girl
Who bounded towards us from the garden mount.
Triumphant entry this to him!-for see,

Between his hands he holds a smooth blue stone,
On whose capacious surface is outspread
Large store of gleaming crimson-spotted trouts;
Ranged side by side, in regular ascent,
One after one, still lessening by degrees
Up to the dwarf that tops the pinnacle.
Upon the board he lays the sky-blue stone
With its rich spoil: 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 oh 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 which splits for better speed,
And, at the self-same moment, works its way
Through many channels, ever and anon
Parted and reunited: his compeer

To the still lake, whose stillness is to the eye
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 grey-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

Did now withdraw to take 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 one
Who from truth's central point serenely views
The compass of his argument, began

Mildly, and with a clear and steady tone.

BOOK IX.

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 Wauderer'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 hillAddress 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 the 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 has 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