Might in this pageant be supposed to hit Here sate in state, and fed with daily alms That never set the pains against the prize; And simple Pleasure foraging for Death; And Decency and Custom starving Truth, And blind Authority beating with his staff The child that might have led him; Empti Thus in submissive idleness, my Friend! The laboring time of autumn, winter, spring, Eight months! rolled pleasingly away; the ninth Came and returned me to my native hills. BOOK SUMMER VACATION. BRIGHT was the summer's noon when quickening steps Followed each other till a dreary moor Standing alone, as from a rampart's edge, A universe of Nature's fairest forms 1 bounded down the hill shouting ama n For the old Ferryman; to the shout the rocks Replied, and when the Charon of the flood Had stayed his oars, and touched the jutting pier, I did not step into the well-known boat Without a cordial greeting. Thence with speed Up the familiar hill I took my way Towards that sweet Valley where I had been reared; 'Twas but a short hour's walk, ere veering round FOURTH. Heaven's blessing be upon thee where thou liest After thy innocent and busy stir In narrow cares, thy little daily growth About its narrow precincts all beloved, Have felt, and every man alive can guess? The rooms, the court, the garden were not left Long unsaluted, nor the sunny seat Round the stone table under the dark pine, Within our garden, found himself at once, (Without an effort and without a will) A channel paved by man's officious care. I looked at him and smiled, and smiled again, And in the press of twenty thousand thoughts, "Ha," quoth I, "pretty prisoner, are you there!" Well might sarcastic fancy then have whispered, "An emblem here behold of thy own life; In its late course of even days with all Their smooth enthralment; "but the heart was full, Too full for that reproach. My aged Dame Walked proudly at my side: she guided Upon the road, some busy at their work, A Poet's history, may I leave untold In my accustomed bed, more welcome now Roar, and the rain beat hard; where I so oft Had lain awake on summer nights to watch The moon in splendor couched among the leaves Of a tall ash, that near our cottage stood; Had watched her with fixed eyes while to and fro In the dark summit of the wavering tree She rocked with every impulse of the breeze. Among the favorites whom it pleased me To see again, was one by ancient right From youth our own adopted, he had passed I have been harassed with the toil of verse, sea; Then have I darted forwards to let loose My hand upon his back with stormy joy, And mien of one whose thoughts are free, advanced To give and take a greeting that might A sober hour, not winning or serene, A heart that had not been disconsolate : Strength came where weakness was not known to be, At least not felt; and restoration came The balance, and with firm hand weighed 'Twas not indifferent to a youthful mind To mark some sheltering bower or sunny nook, myself. -Of that external scene which round me lay, Little in this abstraction, did I see; Remembered less; but I had inward hopes And swellings of the spirit, was wrapt and soothed, Conversed with promises, had glimmering views How life pervades the undecaying mind; How the immortal soul with God-like power Informs, creates, and thaws the deepest sleep That time can lay upon her: how on earth, Nor was there want of milder thoughts, of love, Of innocence, and holiday repose: Came ever and anon a breath-like sound, more. A freshness also found I at this ti In human Life, the daily life of those Whose occupations really I loved; The peaceful scene oft filled me with surprise, Changed like a garden in the heat of spring After an eight-days' absence. For (to omit The things which were the same and yet appeared Far otherwise) amid this rural solitude, A narrow Vale where each was known to all, Her clear though shallow stream of piety That ran on Sabbath days a fresher course; With thoughts unfelt till now I saw her read Her Bible on hot Sunday afternoons, And loved the book, when she had dropped asleep And made of it a pillow for her head. Nor less do I remember to have felt, Or Angel, if he were to dwell on earth, Of change, congratulation or regret, A pensive feeling! It spread far and wide; The trees, the mountains shared it, and the brooks, The stars of Heaven, now seen in their old haunts White Sirius glittering o'er the southern crags, Orion with his belt, and those fair Seven, Deep, gloomy were they, and severe; the scatterings Of awe or tremulous dread, that had given way In later youth to yearnings of a love As one who hangs down bending from the side Of a slow-moving boat, upon the breast Grots, pebbles, roots of trees, and fancies more, Yet often is perplexed, and cannot part The shadow from the substance, rocks and sky, the Mountains and clouds, reflected in depth Of the clear flood, from things which there abide [gleam In their true dwelling; now is crossed by Of his own image, by a sunbeam now, And wavering motions sent he knows not whence, Impediments that make his task more sweet; Such pleasant office have we long pursued Incumbent o'er the surface of past time With like success, nor often have appeared Shapes fairer or less doubtfully discerned Than these to which the Tale, indulgent Friend! Would now direct thy notice. Yet in spite Of pleasure won, and knowledge not withheld, There was an inner falling off-I loved, Loved deeply all that had been loved before, More deeply even than ever: but a swarm Of heady schemes jostling each other gawds, And feast and dance, and public revelry, And sports and games (too grateful in them. selves, Yet in themselves less grateful, I believe, Than as they were a badge glossy and fresh Of manliness and freedom) all conspired A wild, unworldly-minded youth, given up To his own eager thoughts. It would de mand Some skill, and longer time than may be spared, To paint these vanities, and how they wrought In haunts where they, till now, had been unknown. It seemed the very garments that I wore Yes, that heartless chase Of trivial pleasures was a poor exchange For books and nature at that early age. 'Tis true, some casual knowledge might be gained Of character or life; but at that time, 'Mid a Of maids and youths, old men, and matrons staid, A medley of all tempers, I had passed Slight shocks of young love-liking interspersed, Whose transient pleasure mounted to the head, And tingled through the veins. Ere we retired, |