Fair Rosamond, and the Children of the Wood,
And, with that whisker'd tabby's aid, set forth
The lucky venture of sage Whittington,
When the next village hears the show announced
By blast of trumpet?" Plenteous was the growth
Of such conjectures, overheard, or seen
On many a staring countenance portray'd
Of boor or burgher, as they march'd along.
And more than once their steadiness of face
Was put to proof, and exercise supplied
To their inventive humour, by stern looks,
And questions in authoritative tone,
From some staid guardian of the public peace,
Checking the sober steed on which he rode,
In his suspicious wisdom; oftener still
By notice indirect, or blunt demand
From traveller halting in his own despite,
A simple curiosity to ease :
Of which adventures, that beguiled and cheer'd
Their grave migration, the good pair would tell,
With undiminish'd glee, in hoary age.
His career is narrated at some length and allusion is made to another priest, (as clergymen are still called in the district,) who obtained the name of Wonderful' among the dalesmen, and to whose virtues the poet dedicates a large space in the notes appended to the 'Excursion,' the perusal of which will repay the reader. The unpretending history of a deaf man is next given, and after that is the following interesting notice of one deprived of sight.
'Soul-cheering light, most bountiful of things! Guide of our way, mysterious comforter ! Whose sacred influence, spread through earth and heaven,
We all too thanklessly participate,
Thy gifts were utterly withheld from him
Whose place of rest is near yon ivied porch.
Yet, of the wild brooks ask if he complain'd;
Ask of the channell'd rivers if they held
A safer, easer, more determined course.
What terror doth it strike into the mind
To think of one, who cannot see, advancing
Towards some precipice's airy brink!
But, timely warn'd, he would have stay'd his steps ;
Protected, say enlighten'd, by his ear,
And on the very brink of vacancy
Not more endanger'd than a man whose eye
Beholds the gulf beneath. No flow'ret blooms
Throughout the lofty range of these rough hills,
Or in the woods, that could from him conceal
Its birthplace; none whose figure did not live
Upon his touch. The bowels of the earth
Enrich'd with knowledge his industrious mind;
The ocean paid him tribute from the stores
Lodged in her bosom, and by science led,
His genius mounted to the plains of heaven.
Methinks I see him; how his eyeballs roll'd
Beneath his ample brow, in darkness pair'd-
But each instinct with spirit: and the frame
Of the whole countenance alive with thought,
Fancy, and understanding; while the voice
Discoursed of natural and moral truth
With eloquence, and such authentic power,
That, in his presence, humbler knowledge stood
Abash'd, and tender pity overawed.'
Their conversation on these topics is interrupted by the passing of a waggoner and his team carrying timber. His good qualities are dwelt upon, but the Pastor adds:
'This qualified respect, the old man's due,
Is paid without reluctance; but in truth,'
(Said the good Vicar with a fond half-smile)
I feel at times a motion of despite
Towards one, whose bold contrivances and skill,
As you have seen, bear such conspicuous part
In works of havoc; taking from these vales,
One after one, their proudest ornaments.
Full oft his doings leave me to deplore
Tall ash-tree sown by winds, by vapours nursed,
In the dry crannies of the pendent rocks :
Light birch, aloft upon the horizon's edge,
Transparent texture, framing in the east
A veil of glory for the ascending moon;
And oak whose roots by noontide dew were damp'd,
And on whose forehead inaccessible
The raven lodged in safety. Many a ship
Launch'd into Morecamb Bay, hath owed to him
Her strong knee-timbers, and the mast that bears
The loftiest of her pendants; he, from park
Or forest, fetched the enormous axle-tree
That whirls (how slow itself!) ten thousand spindles.
And the vast engine labouring in the mine,
Content with meaner prowess, must have lack'd
The trunk and body of its marvellous strength,
If his undaunting enterprise had fail'd
Among the mountain coves, or keen research
In forest, park, or chase.'
Affectionate mention is then made of a young volunteer,
a native of the vale, whose patriotic ardour was aroused
by the threat of French invasion. His untimely end
This spoken from his seat the Pastor rose,
And moved towards the grave. Instinctively
His steps we follow'd; and my voice exclaim'd,
'Power to the oppressors of the world is given,
A might of which they dream not. Oh! the curse,
To be the awakener of divinest thoughts,
Father and founder of exalted deeds;
And, to whole nations bound in servile straits
The liberal donor of capacities
More than heroic! this to be, nor yet
Have sense of one connatural wish, nor yet
Deserve the least return of human thanks;
Winning no recompense but deadly hate
With pity mix'd - astonishment with scorn!'
When these involuntary words had ceased,
The Pastor said: 'So Providence is served;
The forked weapon of the skies can send
Illumination into deep, dark holds,
Which the mild sunbeam hath not power to pierce.
Ye Thrones that have defied remorse, and cast
Pity away, soon shall ye quake with fear!
For, not unconscious of the mighty death
Which to an outrageous wrong the sufferer owes,
Europe, through all her habitable bounds
Is thirsting for their overthrow, who still
Exist, as pagan temples stood of old,
By very horror of their impious rites
are suffered to extend their pride, Like cedars on the top of Lebanon Darkening the sun.'
A mouldering monumental stone and the faded memory of a knight who flourished in Eliza's golden days, leads to the following eloquent apostrophe :·
'So falls, so languishes, grows dim, and dies,' The gray-hair'd Wanderer pensively exclaim'd 'All that this world is proud of. From their spheres The stars of human glory are cast down;
Perish the roses and flowers of kings;
Princes and emperors, and the crowns and palms
Of all the mighty, wither'd and consumed!
Nor is power given to lowliest innocence
Long to protect her own. The man himself
Departs; and soon is spent the line of those
Who, in the bodily image, in the mind,
In heart in soul, in station or pursuit,
Did most resemble him. Degrees and ranks,
Fraternities and orders - heaping high
New wealth upon the burthen of the old,
And placing trust in privilege confirm'd
And re-confirm'd - are scoff'd at with a smile
Of greedy foretaste, from the secret stand
Of desolation, aim'd: to slow decline
These yield, and these to sudden overthrow;
Their virtue, service, happiness, and state
Expire; and Nature's pleasant robe of green,
Humanity's appointed shroud, enwraps
Their monuments and their memory.'
'Even,' said the Wanderer,' as that courteous knight Bound by his vow to labour for redress Of all who suffer wrong, and to enact By sword and lance the law of gentleness, (If I may venture of myself to speak, Trusting that not incongruously I blend Low things with lofty,) I too shall be doom'd To outlive the kindly use and fair esteem Of the poor calling which my youth embraced With no unworthy prospect. But enough; Thoughts crowd upon me- and 'twere seemlier now To stop, and yield our gracious teacher thanks For the pathetic records which his voice Hath here deliver'd words of heartfelt truth, Tending to patience when affliction strikes ; To hope and love; to confident repose In God; and reverence for the dust of man.'
The Pastor, fearing to have detained them too long, invites them to his house.
At this the Solitary shrunk
With backward will; but, wanting not address
That inward motion to disguise, he said
To his compatriot, smiling as he spake,-
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