Revered among the nations. I implored
Its guidance; but th' infallible support
Of faith was wanting. Tell me, why refused
To One by storms annoy'd and adverse winds;
Perplex'd with currents; of his weakness sick;
Of vain endeavours tired; and by his own,
And by his nature's, ignorance, dismay'd!

Long-wish'd-for sight, the Western World appear'd; And, when the ship was moor'd, I leap'd ashore Indignantly, resolved to be a man

Who, having o'er the past no power, would live
No longer in subjection to the past,
With abject mind, from a tyrannic lord
Inviting penance, fruitlessly endured:
So, like a fugitive, whose feet have clear'd
Some boundary, which his followers may not cross
In prosecution of their deadly chase,

Respiring I look'd round. - How bright the Sun,
The breeze how soft! Can any thing produced
In the Old World compare, thought I, for power
And majesty with this gigantic stream,
Sprung from the desert? And, behold, a city
Fresh, youthful, and aspiring! What are these
To me, or I to them? As much at least
As he desires that they should be, whom winds
And waves have wafted to this distant shore,
In the condition of a damaged seed,

Whose fibres cannot, if they would, take root.
Here may I roam at large; - my business is,
Roaming at large, to observe, and not to feel,
And therefore not to act, convinced that all
Which bears the name of action, howsoe'er
Beginning, ends in servitude, still painful,
And mostly profitless. And, sooth to say,
On nearer view, a motley spectacle
Appear'd, of high pretensions, unreproved
But by th' obstreperous voice of higher still;
Big passions strutting on a petty stage;
Which a detach'd spectator may regard
Not unamused. But ridicule demands
Quick change of objects: and, to laugh alone,
At a composing distance from the haunts
Of strife and folly, though it be a treat
As choice as musing Leisure can bestow;
Yet, in the very centre of the crowd,
To keep the secret of a poignant scorn,

Howe'er to airy Demons suitable,
Of all unsocial courses is least fit
For the gross spirit of mankind,
That soonest fails to please, and quickliest turns
Into vexation.

Let us, then, I said,

the one

Leave this unknit Republic to the scourge
Of her own passions; and to regions haste,
Whose shades have never felt th' encroaching axe,
Or soil endured a transfer in the mart
Of dire rapacity. There, Man abides,
Primeval Nature's child. A creature weak
In combination, (wherefore else driven back
So far, and of his old inheritance

So easily deprived?) but, for that cause,
More dignified, and stronger in himself;
Whether to act, judge, suffer, or enjoy.
True, the intelligence of social art
Hath overpower'd his forefathers, and soon
Will sweep the remnant of his line away;
But contemplations, worthier, nobler far
Than her destructive energies, attend
His independence, when along the side
Of Mississippi, or that northern stream
That spreads into successive seas, he walks;
Pleased to perceive his own unshackled life,
And his innate capacities of soul,

There imaged or when, having gain'd the top
Of some commanding eminence, which yet
Intruder ne'er beheld, he thence surveys
Regions of wood and wide savannah, vast
Expanse of unappropriated earth,

With mind that sheds a light on what he sees;
Free as the Sun, and lonely as the Sun,
Pouring above his head its radiance down
Upon a living and rejoicing world!

So, westward, toward th' unviolated woods
I bent my way; and, roaming far and wide,
Fail'd not to greet the merry Mocking-bird;
And, while the melancholy Muccawiss

(The sportive bird's companion in the grove)

6 It should be borne in mind that this was written as early as 1814; at which time the United States might well appear to Wordsworth, or even to such a man as the Solitary, an "unknit Republic." Not more unknit, however, than many of our own people supposed it to be, or than it would have proved, if "Secession" had had its way. But recent events have either shown our National Government to be strong, or have made it so.

Repeated, o'er and o'er, his plaintive cry,
I sympathised at leisure with the sound:
But that pure archetype of human greatness,
I found him not. There, in his stead, appear'd
A creature squalid, vengeful, and impure;
Remorseless, and submissive to no law
But superstitious fear, and abject sloth.
Enough is told! Here am I;-ye have heard
What evidence I seek, and vainly seek;
What from my fellow-beings I require,
And either they have not to give, or I
Lack virtue to receive; what I myself,
Too oft by wilful forfeiture, have lost,
Nor can regain. How languidly I look
Upon this visible fabric of the world,
May be divined, — perhaps it hath been said:
But spare your pity, if there be in me
Aught that deserves respect: for I exist,
Within myself, not comfortless. The tenour
Which my life holds, he readily may conceive
Whoe'er hath stood to watch a mountain brook
In some still passage of its course,
and seen,
Within the depths of its capacious breast,
Inverted trees, rocks, clouds, and azure sky;
And, on its glassy surface, specks of foam,
And conglobated bubbles undissolved,
Numerous as stars; that, by their onward lapse,
Betray to sight the motion of the stream,
Else imperceptible. Meanwhile is heard.
A soften'd roar, or murmur; and the sound,
Though soothing, and the little floating isles
Though beautiful, are both by Nature charged
With the same pensive office; and make known
Through what perplexing labyrinths, abrupt
Precipitations, and untoward straits,

The earth-born wanderer hath pass'd; and quickly,
That respite o'er, like traverses and toils
Must he again encounter. - Such a stream
Is human Life; and so the Spirit fares
In the best quiet to her course allow'd;
And such is mine,- save only for a hope
That my particular current soon will reach
Th' unfathomable gulf, where all is still!"

BOOK FOURTH.

DESPONDENCY CORRECTED.

HERE closed the Tenant of that lonely vale
His mournful narrative, commenced in pain,
In pain commenced, and ended without peace;
Yet temper'd, not unfrequently, with strains
Of native feeling, grateful to our minds;
And yielding surely some relief to his,
While we sate listening with compassion due.
A pause of silence follow'd; then, with voice
That did not falter though the heart was moved,
The Wanderer said:

"One adequate support

For the calamities of mortal life

Exists,

one only;

That the procession of our fate, howe'er
Sad or disturb'd, is order'd by a Being
Of infinite benevolence and power;
Whose everlasting purposes embrace
All accidents, converting them to good.-
The darts of anguish fix not where the seat
Of suffering hath been thoroughly fortified
By acquiescence in the Will supreme
For time and for eternity; by faith,
Faith absolute in God, including hope,
And the defence that lies in boundless love
Of His perfections; with habitual dread
Of aught unworthily conceived, endured
Impatiently, ill-done, or left undone,
To the dishonour of His holy name.

Soul of our Souls, and safeguard of the world!
Sustain, Thou only canst, the sick of heart;
Restore their languid spirits, and recall
Their lost affections unto Thee and Thine!"
Then, as we issued from that covert nook,
He thus continued, lifting up his eyes

To heaven: "How beautiful this dome of sky;
And the vast hills, in fluctuation fix'd

At Thy command, how awful! Shall the Soul,
Human and rational, report of Thee

Even less than these? Be mute who will, who can,
Yet I will praise Thee with impassion'd voice:
My lips, that may forget Thee in the crowd,

Cannot forget Thee here, where Thou hast built,
For Thy own glory, in the wilderness!

Me didst Thou constitute a priest of Thine,
In such a temple as we now behold

Reared for Thy presence: therefore am I bound
To worship, here and everywhere, as one
Not doom'd to ignorance, though forced to tread,
From childhood up, the ways of poverty;
From unreflecting ignorance preserved,
And from debasement rescued. By Thy grace
The particle divine remain'd unquench'd;
And, 'mid the wild weeds of a rugged soil,
Thy bounty caused to flourish deathless flowers,
From Paradise transplanted: wintry age
Impends; the frost will gather round my heart;
If the flowers wither, I am worse than dead!
Come labour, when the worn-out frame requires
Perpetual sabbath; come disease and want,
And sad exclusion through decay of sense;
But leave me unabated trust in Thee,
And let Thy favour, to the end of life,
Inspire me with ability to seek

Repose and hope among eternal things,-
Father of Heaven and Earth! and I am rich,
And will possess my portion in content.

And what are things eternal? - Powers depart,”
The grey-hair'd Wanderer steadfastly replied,
Answering the question which himself had ask'd,
"Possessions vanish, and opinions change,
And passions hold a fluctuating seat:
But, by the storms of circumstance unshaken,
And subject neither to eclipse nor wane,
Duty exists; immutably survive,

For our support, the measures and the forms

Which an abstract intelligence supplies;

Whose kingdom is where time and space are not.

Of other converse which mind, soul, and heart

Do, with united urgency, require,

What more that may not perish? - Thou, dread source,

Prime, self-existing cause and end of all

That in the scale of being fill their place;

Above our human region, or below,

Set and sustain'd; Thou, who didst wrap the cloud

Of infancy around us, that Thyself,

Therein, with our simplicity awhile

Mightst hold, on Earth, communion undisturb'd;