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 perverse.
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."

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
Ot 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 divino !

378

WORDSWORTHI'S POEMS.

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!"

The Vicar smiled,

"Alas! before to-morrow's sun goes down,
His habitation will be here: for him

That open grave is destined."

"Died he then

Of pain and grief?" the Solitary ask'd;

"Believe it not-oh, never could that be!"

"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

THE EXCURSION-THE CHURCHYARD, ETC.
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.
Tow, those sad tidings weighing on his heart,
o books, and papers, and the studious desk,
e stoutly re-address'd himself-resolved
o quell his pain, and enter on the path
f old pursuits with keener appetite
nd closer industry. Of what ensued
ithin his soul no outward sign appear'd,
ll a betraying sickliness was seen

- tinge his cheek; and through his frame it crept
ith slow mutation unconcealable;

ch universal change as autumn makes
the fair body of a leafy grove
colour'd, then divested. "Tis affirm'd
poets skill'd in Nature's secret ways
at Love would not submit to be controll'd
mastery and the good man lack'd not friends
to strove t' instil this truth into his mind,
ind in all heart-mysteries unversed.
to the hills,' said one, 'remit a while
s baneful diligence: at early morn

289

WORDSWORTH'S POEMS.

By calculations sage, the ebb and flow
Of tides, and when the moon will be eclipsed,
Do you, for your own benefit, construct

A calendar of flow'rs, pluck'd as they blow
Where health abides, and cheerfulness and peace.'
Th'
attempt was made; 'tis needless to report
How hopelessly; but innocence is strong,
And an entire simplicity of mind

A thing most sacred in the eye of Heaven,
That opens, for such sufferers, relief

Within their souls, a fount of grace divine;

And doth commend their weakness and disease
To Nature's care, assisted in her office
By all the elements that round her wait
To generate, to preserve, and to restore;
And by her beautiful array of forms

Shedding sweet influence from above, or pure
Delight exhaling from the ground they tread."
"Impute it not t' impatience, if," exclaim'd
The Wanderer, "I infer that he was heal'd
By perseverance in the course prescribed."

"You do not err: the powers, which had been lost By slow degrees, were gradually regain'd;

The fluttering nerves composed; the beating heart
In rest establish'd; and the jarring thoughts
To harmony restored. But yon dark mould
Will cover him; in height of strength-to earth
Hastily smitten, by a fever's force;

Yet not with stroke so sudden as refused
Time to look back with tenderness on her
Whom he had loved in passion, and to send

Some farewell words; and, with those words, a prayer
That, from his dying hand, she would accept
Of his possessions, that which most he prized,
A book, upon the surface of whose leaves
Some chosen plants, disposed with nicest care,
In undecaying beauty were preserved.
Mute register, to him, of time and place,
And various fluctuations in the breast;
To her, a monument of faithful love
Conquer'd, and in tranquillity retain'd.
"Close to his destined habitation, lies
One whose endeavours did at length achieve
A victory less worthy of regard,

Though marvellous in its kind. A place exists
High in these mountains, that allured a band
Of keen adventurers to unite their pains,
In search of treasure there by nature form'd,

And there conceal'd: but they who tried were foil'd,
And all desisted, all, save him alone;

Who taking counsel of his own clear thoughts,

And trusting only to his own weak hands,

Urged unremittingly the stubborn work,