The employment common through these wilds, and gained

By spinning hemp, a pittance for herself;

And for this end had hired a neighbour's boy
To give her needful help. That very time
Most willingly she put her work aside,
And walked with me along the miry road,
Heedless how far; and, in such piteous sort
That any heart had ached to hear her, begged
That, wheresoe'er I went, I still would ask
For him whom she had lost. We parted then-
Our final parting; for from that time forth
Did many seasons pass ere I returned

Into this tract again.

Nine tedious years;

From their first separation, nine long years,

She lingered in unquiet widowhood;

A Wife and Widow. Needs must it have been

A sore heart-wasting! I have heard, my Friend,

That in yon arbour oftentimes she sate

Alone, through half the vacant Sabbath day;
And, if a dog passed by, she still would quit
The shade, and look abroad. On this old bench
For hours she sate; and evermore her eye
Was busy in the distance, shaping things

That made her heart beat quick. You see that path,
Now faint, the grass has crept o'er its grey line;
There, to and fro, she paced through many a day
Of the warm summer, from a belt of hemp
That girt her waist, spinning the long-drawn thread
With backward steps. Yet ever as there passed
A man whose garments showed the soldier's red,
Or crippled mendicant in sailor's garb,

The little child who sate to turn the wheel
Ceased from his task; and she with faltering voice
Made many a fond enquiry; and when they,
Whose presence gave no comfort, were gone by,
Her heart was still more sad. And by yon gate,
That bars the traveller's road, she often stood,
And when a stranger horseman came, the latch
Would lift, and in his face look wistfully:
Most happy, if, from aught discovered there

Of tender feeling, she might dare repeat

The same sad question. Meanwhile her poor Hut
Sank to decay; for he was gone, whose hand,

At the first nipping of October frost,

Closed up each chink, and with fresh bands of straw
Chequered the green-grown thatch. And so she lived
Through the long winter, reckless and alone;
Until her house by frost, and thaw, and rain,

Was sapped; and while she slept, the nightly damps
Did chill her breast; and in the stormy day
Her tattered clothes were ruffled by the wind,
Even at the side of her own fire. Yet still

She loved this wretched spot, nor would for worlds

Have parted hence; and still that length of road,
And this rude bench, one torturing hope endeared,
Fast rooted at her heart: and here, my Friend,-
In sickness she remained; and here she died;
Last human tenant of these ruined walls!"

The old man ceased: he saw that I was moved; From that low bench, rising instinctively

I turned aside in weakness, nor had power

To thank him for the tale which he had told.

I stood, and leaning o'er the garden wall

Reviewed that Woman's sufferings; and it seemed
To comfort me while with a brother's love

I blessed her in the impotence of grief.
At length towards the cottage I returned,
Fondly, and traced with interest more mild,
That secret spirit of humanity

Which, mid the calm oblivious tendencies

Of nature, 'mid her plants, and weeds, and flowers,

And silent overgrowings, still survived.

The old Man, noting this, resumed, and said,

'My Friend! enough to sorrow you have given,

The purposes of wisdom ask no more:

Be wise and cheerful, and no longer read

The forms of things with an unworthy eye!

She sleeps in the calm earth, and peace is here.

I well remember that those very plumes,

Those weeds, and the high spear-grass on that wall, By mist and silent rain-drops silvered o'er,

As once I passed, did to my heart convey

So still an image of tranquillity,

So calm and still, and looked so beautiful

Amid the uneasy thoughts which filled my mind,
That what we feel of sorrow and despair
From ruin and from change, and all the grief
That passing shows of Being leave behind,
Appeared an idle dream, that could not live
Where meditation was. I turned away,
And walked along my road in happiness."

He ceased. Ere long the sun declining shot
A slant and mellow radiance, which began
To fall upon us, while, beneath the trees,
We sate on that low bench: and now we felt,
Admonished thus, the sweet hour coming on.
A linnet warbled from those lofty elms,
A thrush sang loud, and other melodies,
At distance heard, peopled the milder air.
The old Man rose and, with a sprightly mien
Of hopeful preparation, grasped his staff;
Together casting then a farewell look
Upon those silent walls, we left the shade;
And, ere the stars were visible, had reached
A village-inn, our evening resting-place

Looked on this guide with reverential love?
Each with the other pleased, we now pursued
Our journey, beneath favourable skies.
Turn wheresoe'er we would, he was a light
Unfailing: not a hamlet could we pass,
Rarely a house, that did not yield to him
Remembrances; or from his tongue call forth
Some way-beguiling tale. Nor less regard
Accompanied those strains of apt discourse,
Which Nature's various objects might supply,
And in the silence of his face I read

His overflowing spirit. Birds and beasts,
And the mute fish that glances in the stream,
And harmless reptile coiling in the sun,
And gorgeous insect hovering in the air,
The fowl domestic, and the household dog-
In his capacious mind, he loved them all:
Their rights acknowledging he felt for all.
Oft was occasion given me to perceive
How the calm pleasures of the pasturing herd
To happy contemplation soothed his walk;
How the poor brute's condition, forced to run
Its course of suffering in the public road,
Sad contrast! all too often smote his heart
With unavailing pity. Rich in love
And sweet humanity, he was, himself,
To the degree that he desired, beloved.
Greetings and smiles we met with all day long.
From faces that we knew; we took our seats
By many a cottage-hearth, where he received
The welcome of an Inmate from afar.
-Nor was he loth to enter ragged huts,
Wherein his charity was blessed; his voice
Heard as the voice of an experienced friend.

And, sometimes-where the poor man held dispute
With his own mind, unable to subdue

Impatience, through inaptness to perceive
General distress in his particular lot;
Or cherishing resentment, or in vain
Struggling against it; with a soul perplexed,
And finding in itself no steady power
To draw the line of comfort that divides
Calamity, the chastisement of Heaven,
From the injustice of our brother men-
To him appeal was made as to a judge;
Who, with an understanding heart, allayed
The perturbation; listened to the plea;
Resolved the dubious point; and sentence gave
So grounded, so applied, that it was heard
With softened spirit, even when it condemned.

Such intercourse I witnessed, while we roved,
Now as his choice directed, now as mine;
Or both, with equal readiness of will.

Our course submitting to the changeful breeze
Of accident. But when the rising sun

Had three times called us to renew our walk,
My Fellow-traveller said, with earnest voice,
As if the thought were but a moment old,
That I must yield myself without reserve,
To his disposal. Glad was I of this:
We started-and he led me toward the hills,
Up through an ample vale, with higher hills
Before us, mountains stern and desolate;
But, in the majesty of distance, now
Set off, and to our ken appearing fair
Of aspect, with aerial softness clad,

And beautified with morning's purple beams.
The wealthy, the luxurious, by the stress
Of business roused, or pleasure, ere their time,
May roll in chariots, or provoke the hoofs
Of the fleet coursers they bestride, to raise
From earth the dust of morning, slow to rise;
And they, if blest with health and hearts at ease,
Shall lack not their enjoyment:-but how faint
Compared with ours! who, pacing side by side,
Could, with an eye of leisure, look on all
That we beheld; and lend the listening sense
To every grateful sound of earth and air;
Pausing at will-our spirits braced, our thoughts
Pleasant as roses in the thickets blown,

And pure as dew bathing their crimson leaves.

Mount slowly, sun! and may our journey lie
Awhile within the shadow of this hill,
This friendly hill a shelter from thy beams!
Such is the summer pilgrim's frequent wish;
And as that wish, with prevalence of thanks
For present good o'er fear of future ill,
Stole in among the morning's blither thoughts,
'Twas chased away: for, toward the western side
Of the broad vale, casting a casual glance,
We saw a throng of people;-wherefore met?
Blithe notes of music, suddenly let loose
On the thrilled ear, did to the question yield
Prompt answer; they proclaim the annual Wake,
Which the bright season favours.-Tabor and pipe
In purpose join to hasten and reprove

The laggard Rustic; and repay with boons
Of merriment a party-coloured knot,
Already formed upon the village-green.
-Beyond the limits of the shadow cast
By the broad hill, glistened upon our sight
That gay assemblage. Round them and above,
Glitter, with dark recesses interposed,
Casement, and cottage-roof, and stems of trees
Half-veiled in vapoury cloud, the silver steam
Of dews fast melting on their leafy boughs