How much they might inspirit and endear,
The loneliness of this sublime Retreat!"

"Yes," said the Sage, resuming the discourse
Again directed to his downcast Friend,
"If, with the froward will and grovelling scul
Of Man offended, liberty is here,

And invitation every hour renewed,

To mark their placid state, who never heard
Of a command which they have power to break,
Or rule which they are tempted to transgress;
These, with a soothed or elevated heart,
May we behold; their knowledge register;
Observe their ways; and, free from envy, find
Complacence there: - but wherefore this to You?
I guess that, welcome to your lonely hearth,
The Redbreast feeds in winter from your hand;
A box, perchance, is from your casement hung
For the small Wren to build in; not in vain,
The barriers disregarding that surround
This deep Abiding-place, before your sight
Mounts on the breeze the Butterfly and soars,
Small Creature as she is, from earth's bright flowers
Into the dewy clouds. Ambition reigns

In the waste wilderness: the Soul ascends
Towards her native firmament of heaven,

When the fresh Eagle, in the month of May,
Upborne, at evening, on replenished wing,
This shaded valley leaves, and leaves the dark
Empurpled hills, conspicuously renewing

A proud communication with the sun

Low sunk beneath the horizon! - List! I heard,
From yon huge breast of rock, a solemn bleat;
Sent forth as if it were the Mountain's voice,
As if the visible Mountain made the crv

Again! The effect upon the soul was such
As he expressed from out the mountain's heart
The solemn bleat appeared to issue, startling
The blank air-for the region all around
Stood silent, empty of all shape of life;
- It was a Lamb left somewhere to itself,
The plaintive Spirit of the Solitude!

He paused, as if unwilling to proceed,
Through consciousness that silence in such place
Was best, the most affecting eloquence.

But soon his thoughts returned upon themselves,
And, in soft tone of speech, he thus resumed:-

"Ah! if the heart, too confidently raised,
Perchance too lightly occupied, or lulled
Too easily, despise or overlook

The vassalage that binds her to the earth,
Her sad dependence upon time, and all
The trepidations of mortality,

What place so destitute and void but there

The little Flower her vanity shall check,

The trailing Worm reprove her thoughtless pride?

"These craggy regions, these chaotic wilds,
Does that benignity pervade, that warms
The Mole contented with her darksome walk
In the cold ground; and to the Emmet gives
Her foresight, and intelligence that makes
The tiny Creatures strong by social league;
Supports the generations, multiplies

Their tribes, till we behold a spacious plain
Or grassy bottom, all, with little hills
Their labor — covered, as a Lake with waves ;
Thousands of Cities, in the desert place,
Built up of life, and food, and means of life'

Nor wanting here, to entertain the thought,
Creatures that in communities exist,

Less, as might seem, for general guardianship
Or through dependence upon mutual aid,
Than by participation of delight

And a strict love of fellowship, combined.
What other spirit can it be that prompts
The gilded summer Flies to mix and weave
Their sports together in the solar beam,
Or. in the gloom of twilight hum their joy?
More obviously, the selfsame influence rules
The Feathered kinds; the Fieldfare's pensive flock,
The cawing Rooks, and Sea-mews from afar,
Hovering above these inland Solitudes,

By the rough wind unscattered, at whose call
Their voyage was begun: nor is its power
Unfelt among the sedentary Fowl

That seek yon Pool, and there prolong their stay

In silent congress; or together roused

Take flight; while with their clang the air resounds
And, over all, in that ethereal vault,

Is the mute company of changeful clouds;
Bright apparition suddenly put forth!
The Rainbow, smiling on the faded storm;
The mild assemblage of the starry heavens;
And the great Sun, earth's universal Lord!

"How bountiful is Nature! he shall find

Who seeks not; and to him who hath not asked
Large measure shall be dealt. Three sabbath days
Are scarcely told, since, on a service bent

Of mere humanity, You clomb those Heights;
And what a marvellous and heavenly Show

Was to your sight revealed! The Swains moved on,
And heeded not; you lingered, and perceived.

There is a luxury in self-dispraise;
And inward self-disparagement affords
To meditative Spleen a grateful feast.
Trust me, pronouncing on your own desert,
You judge unthankfully; distempered nerves
Infect the thoughts: the languor of the Frame
Depresses the Soul's vigor. Quit your Couch –
Cleave not so fondly to your moody Cell;

Nor let the hallowed Powers, that shed from heaven
Stillness and rest, with disapproving eye

Look down upon your paper, through a watch
Of midnight hours, unseasonably twinkling

In this deep Hollow, like a sullen star
Dimly reflected in a lonely pool.

Take courage, and withdraw yourself from ways
That run not parallel to Nature's course.
Rise with the Lark! your Matins shall obtain
Grace, be their composition what it may,

If but with hers performed; climb once again,
Climb every day, those ramparts; meet the breeze
Upon their tops, adventurous as a Bee

That from your garden thither soars, to feed
On new-blown heath; let yon commanding rock
Be your frequented Watch-tower; roll the stone
In thunder down the mountains: with all your might
Chase the wild Goat; and, if the bold red Deer
Fly to these harbors, driven by hound and horn
Loud echoing, add your speed to the pursuit
So, wearied to your Hut shall you return,
And sink at evening into sound repose."

The Solitary lifted toward the hills
A kindling eye;-poetic feelings rushed
Into my bosom, whence these words broke forth
"Oh! what a joy it were, in vigorous health

To have a Body, (this our vital frame

With shrinking sensibility endued,

And all the nice regards of flesh and blood,)
And to the elements surrender it

As if it were a Spirit! How divine,
The liberty, for frail, for mortal man,
To roam at large among unpeopled glens
And mountainous retirements, only trod
By devious footsteps; regions consecrate
To oldest time! and, reckless of the storm
That keeps the raven quiet in her nest,
Be as a Presence or a motion one
Among the many there; and, while the Mists
Flying, and rainy Vapors, call out Shapes
And Phantoms from the crags and solid earth
As fast as a Musician scatters sounds
Out of an instrument; and, while the Streams
(As at a first creation, and in haste
To exercise their untried faculties,)
Descending from the region of the clouds,
And starting from the hollows of the earth,
More multitudinous every moment, rend
Their way before them - what a joy to roam
An equal among mightiest Energies;
And haply sometimes with articulate voice,
Amid the deafening tumult, scarcely heard
By him that utters it, exclaim aloud,
'Be this continued so from day to day,
Nor let the fierce commotion have an end,
Ruinous though it be, from month to month!

Yes," said the Wanderer, taking from my lips The strain of transport, "whosoe'er in youth Has, through ambition of his soul, given way To such desires, and grasped at such delight,