To every form of being is assigned,'
Thus calmly spoke 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
Their happy year spins round. The youth obeys
A like glad impulse; and so moves the man
'Mid all his apprehensions, cares, and fears;
Or so he ought to move. Ah! why in age
Do we revert so fondly to the walks
Of childhood, but that there the soul discerns
The dear memorial footsteps unimpair'd
Of her own native vigour - but for this,
That it is given her thence in age to hear
Reverberations, and a choral song,
Commingling with the incense that ascends,
Undaunted, towards the imperishable heavens,
From her own lonely altar? Do not think
That good and wise will ever be allow'd,
Though strength decay, to breathe in such estate
As shall divide them wholly from the stir
Of hopeful nature. Rightly is it said
That man descends into the vale of years;
Yet have I thought that we might also speak,
And not presumptuously, I trust, of age,
As of a final eminence, though bare
In aspect and forbidding, yet a point
On which 'tis not impossible to sit
In awful sovereignty; a place of power-
A throne, which may be liken'd unto his,
Who, in some placid day of summer, looks
Down from a mountain top,—say one of those
High peaks, that bound the vale where now we are.
Faint and diminish'd to the gazing eye,
Forest and field, and hill and dale, appear,
With all the shapes upon their surface spread.
But while the gross and visible frame of things
Relinquishes its hold upon the sense,
Yea, almost on the mind itself, and seems
All unsubstantialized - how loud the voice
Of waters, with invigorated peal
From the full river in the vale below
Ascending! For on that superior height
Who sits, is disencumber'd from the press
Of near obstructions, and is privileged
To breathe in solitude, above the host
Of ever-humming insects, 'mid thin air
That suits not them. The murmur of the leaves,
Many and idle, touches not his ear :
This he is free'd from, and from thousand notes
Not less unceasing, not less vain than these
By which the finer passages of sense
Are occupied; and the soul, that would incline
To listen, is prevented or deterr'd.
'And may it not be hoped, that, placed by age
In like removal, tranquil though severe,
We are not so removed for utter loss,
But for some favour, suited to our need?
What more than this, that we thereby should gain
Fresh power to commune with th' invisible world,
And hear the mighty stream of tendency
Uttering, for elevation of our thought,
A clear, sonorous voice, inaudible
To the vast multitude, whose doom it is
To run the giddy round of vain delight,
Or fret and labour on the plain below.
But, if to such sublime ascent the hopes
Of man may rise, as to a welcome close
And termination of his mortal course,
Them only can such hope inspire whose minds
Have not been starved by absolute neglect,
Nor bodies crush'd by unremitting toil;
To whom kind Nature, therefore may afford
Proof of the sacred love she bears for all;
Whose birthright reason, therefore, may insure.'
Reference is next made to the happy lot of the two youths
before noticed.
'A few short hours of each returning day,
The thriving prisoners of their village school;
And thence let loose, to seek their pleasant homes
Or range the grassy lawn in vacancy;
To breathe and to be happy.'
The poet then anticipates the educational measures which have only recently been taken by our Government.
'Oh for the coming of that glorious time
When, prizing knowledge as her noblest wealth
And best protection, this imperial realm,
While she exacts allegiance, shall admit
An obligation, on her part, to teach
Them who are born to serve her and obey;
Binding herself by statute to secure
For all the children whom her soil maintains
The rudiments of letters, and to inform
The mind with moral and religious truth,
Both understood and practised,-
so that none,
However destitute, be left to droop
By timely culture unsustain'd; or run
Into a wild disorder; or be forced
To drudge through weary life without the aid
Of intellectual implements and tools;
A savage horde among the civilized,
A servile band among the lordly free!
This right, as sacred almost as the right
To exist and be supplied with sustenance
And means of life, the lisping babe proclaims
To be inherent in him, by Heaven's will,
For the protection of his innocence:
And the rude boy
who, having overpass'd The sinless age, by conscience is enroll'd
Yet mutinously knits his angry brow,
And lifts his wilful hand on mischief bent,
Or turns the sacred faculty of speech
To impious use — by process indirect
Declares his due, while he makes known his need.
This sacred right is fruitlessly announced,
This universal plea in vain address'd,
To eyes and ears of parents who themselves
Did, in the time of their necessity,
Urge it in vain ; and, therefore, like a prayer
That from the humblest floor ascends to heaven,
It mounts to reach the State's parental ear;
Who, if indeed she own a mother's heart
And be not most unfeelingly devoid
Of gratitude to Providence, will grant
The unquestionable good-which, England, safe From interference or external force,
May grant at leisure; without risk incurr'd
That what in wisdom for herself she doth,
Others shall e'er be able to undo.
'Look! and behold, from Calpe's sunburnt cliffs
To the flat margin of the Baltic Sea,
Long-reverenced titles cast away as weeds;
Laws overturn'd; and territory spilt,
Like fields of ice rent by the polar wind,
And forced to join in less obnoxious shapes
Which, ere they gain consistence, by a gust
Of the same breath are shatter'd and destroy'd.
Meantime the sovereignty of these fair Isles
Remains entire and indivisible;
And, if that ignorance were removed which acts
Within the compass of their several shores
To breed commotion and disquietude,
Each might preserve the beautiful repose
Of heavenly bodies shining in their spheres.
The discipline of slavery is unknown
Amongst us, hence the more do we require
The discipline of virtue; order else
Cannot subsist, nor confidence, nor peace.
Thus, duties rising out of good possess'd,
And prudent caution needful to avert
Impending evil, do alike require
That permanent provision should be made
For the whole people to be taught and train'd.
So shall licentiousness and black resolve
Be rooted out, and virtuous habits take
Their place; and genuine piety descend,
Like an inheritance, from age to age.
'With such foundations laid, avaunt the fear
Of numbers crowded on their native soil,
To the prevention of all healthful growth,
Through mutual injury! Rather in the law
Of increase and the mandate from above
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