Like those celestial Messengers beheld
All accidents, and Judges were of all.
"The lively Grecian, in a Land of hills,
Rivers, and fertile plains, and sounding shores,
Under a cope of variegated sky,
Could find commodious place for every God,
Promptly received, as prodigally brought,
From the surrounding Countries
Of all adventurers. With unrivalled skill,
As nicest observation furnished hints
For studious fancy, did his hand bestow
On fluent Operations a fixed shape;
Metal or Stone, idolatrously served.
And yet triumphant o'er this pompous show
Of Art, this palpable array of Sense,
On every side encountered; in despite
Of the gross fictions chanted in the streets
By wandering Rhapsodists; and in contempt
Of doubt and bold denial hourly urged
Amid the wrangling Schools a SPIRIT hung,
Beautiful Region! o'er thy Towns and Farms,
Statues and Temples, and memorial Tombs;
And emanations were perceived; and acts
Of immortality, in Nature's course,
Exemplified by mysteries, that were felt
As bonds, on grave Philosopher imposed
And armed Warrior; and in every grove
A gay or pensive tenderness prevailed,
When piety more awful had relaxed.
-'Take, running River, take these Locks of mine'
Thus would the Votary say this severed hair,
My vow fulfilling, do I here present,
Thankful for my beloved Child's return.
Thy banks, Cephisus, he again hath trod,
Thy murmurs heard; and drunk the crystal lymph With which thou dost refresh the thirsty lip,
And moisten all day long these flowery fields!' And doubtless, sometimes, when the hair was shed Upon the flowing stream, a thought arose
Of Life continuous, Being unimpaired ;
That hath been, is, and where it was and is,
There shall endure, - existence unexposed
To the blind walk of mortal accident;
From diminution safe and weakening age;
While Man grows old, and dwindles, and decays;
And countless generations of Mankind
Depart; and leave no vestige where they trod.
"We live by admiration, hope, and love;
And, even as these are well and wisely fixed,
In dignity of being we ascend.
But what is error?"—" Answer he who can!"
The Sceptic somewhat haughtily exclaimed:
"Love, Hope, and Admiration -are they not
Mad Fancy's favorite Vassals? Does not life
Use them, full oft, as Pioneers to ruin,
Guides to destruction? Is it well to trust
Imagination's light when Reason's fails,
The unguarded taper where the guarded faints?
-Stoop from those heights, and soberly declare
What error is; and, of our errors, which
Does most debase the mind; the genuine seats
Of power, where are they? Who shall regulate,
With truth, the scale of intellectual rank?"
"Methinks," persuasively the Sage replied,
"That for this arduous office you possess
Some rare advantages. Your early days
A grateful recollection must supply
Of much exalted good by Heaven vouchsafed
To dignify the humblest state. Your voice
Hath, in my hearing, often testified
That poor Men's Children, they, and they alone,
By their condition taught, can understand
The wisdom of the prayer that daily asks
For daily bread. A consciousness is yours
How feelingly religion may be learned
In smoky Cabins, from a Mother's tongue-
Heard while the Dwelling vibrates to the din
Of the contiguous Torrent, gathering strength
At every moment and, with strength, increase
Of fury; or, while Snow is at the door,
Assaulting and defending, and the Wind,
A sightless Laborer, whistles at his work
Fearful, but resignation tempers fear,
And piety is sweet to infant minds.
-The Shepherd Lad, who in the sunshine carves, On the green turf, a dial to divide
The silent hours; and who to that report
Can portion out his pleasures, and adapt
His round of pastoral duties, is not left
With less intelligence for moral things
Of gravest import. Early he perceives,
Within himself a measure and a rule,
Which to the Sun of Truth he can apply,
That shines for him, and shines for all Mankind.
Experience daily fixing his regards
On Nature's wants, he knows how few they are,
And where they lie, how answered and appeased
This knowledge ample recompense affords
For manifold privations; he refers
His notions to this standard; on this rock
Rests his desires; and hence, in after life,
Soul-strengthening patience, and sublime content.
Imagination—not permitted here
To waste her powers, as in the worldling's mind,
On fickle pleasures, and superfluous cares,
And trivial ostentation is left free
And puissant to range the solemn walks
Of time and nature, girded by a zone
That, while it binds, invigorates and supports.
Acknowledge, then, that whether by the side
Of his poor hut, or on the mountain top,
Or in the cultured field, a Man so bred
(Take from him what you will upon the score
Of ignorance or allusion) lives and breathes
For noble purposes of mind: his heart
Beats to the heroic song of ancient days;
His eye distinguishes, his soul creates.
And those Illusions which excite the scorn
Or move the pity of unthinking minds,
Are they not mainly outward Ministers
Of inward Conscience? with whose service charged
They came and go, appeared and disappear,
Diverting evil purposes, remorse
Awakening, chastening an intemperate grief,
Or pride of heart abating: and, whene'er
For less important ends those Phantoms move,
Who would forbid them, if their presence serve,
Among wild mountains and unpeopled heaths,
Filling a space, else vacant, to exalt
The forms of Nature, and enlarge her powers?
"Once more to distant Ages of the world
Let us revert, and place before our thoughts
The face which rural solitude might wear
To the unenlightened Swains of pagan Greece.
-In that fair Clime, the lonely Herdsman, stretched
On the soft grass through half a summer's day
With music lulled his indolent repose:
And, in some fit of weariness if he,
When his own breath was silent, chanced to hear
A distant strain, far sweeter than the sounds
Which his poor skill could make, his Fancy fetched,
Even from the blazing Chariot of the Sun,
A beardless Youth who touched a golden lute,
And filled the illumined groves with ravishment.
The nightly Hunter, lifting up his eyes
Towards the crescent Moon, with grateful heart
Called on the lovely wanderer who bestowed
That timely light, to share his joyous sport:
And hence, a beaming Goddess with her Nymphs,
Across the lawn and through the darksome grove
(Not unaccompanied with tuneful notes
By echo multiplied from rock or cave)
Swept in the storm of chase, as Moon and Stars
Glance rapidly along the clouded heaven,
When winds are blowing strong. The Traveller slaked
His thirst from Rill or gushing Fount, and thanked
The Naiad. Sunbeams upon distant Hills
Gliding apace, with Shadows in their train,
Might, with small help from fancy, be transformed
Into fleet Oreads sporting visibly.
The Zephyrs, fanning as they passed, their wings,
Lacked not, for love, fair Objects, whom they wooed
With gentle whisper. Withered Boughs grotesque,
Stripped of their leaves and twigs by hoary age,
From depth of shaggy covert peeping forth
In the low vale, or on steep mountain side;
And, sometimes, intermixed with stirring horns
Of the live Deer, or Goat's depending beard, -
These were the lurking Satyrs, a wild brood
Of gamesome Deities; or Pan himself,
The simple Shepherd's awe-inspiring God!"
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