The central feeling of all happiness,
Not as a refuge from distress or pain,
A breathing-time, vacation, or a truce,
But for its absolute self; a life of peace,
Stability without regret or fear;
That hath been, is, and shall be evermore
Such the reward he sought; and wore out life
There, where on few external things his heart
Was set, and those his own; or, if not his,
Subsisting under Nature's steadfast law.
"What other yearning was the master tie
Of the monastic Brotherhood, upon Rock
Aerial, or in green secluded Vale,
One after one, collected from afar,
An undissolving Fellowship?
The universal instinct of repose,
The longing for confirmed tranquillity,
Inward and outward; humble, yet sublime.
The life where hope and memory are as one,
Earth quiet and unchanged; the human Soul
Consistent in self-rule; and heaven revealed
To meditation in that quietness!
Such was their scheme :- thrice happy he who gained The end proposed! And, though the same were
By multitudes, perhaps obtained by none,
They, for the attempt, and for the pains employed,
Do, in my present censure, stand redeemed
From the unqualified disdain that once
Would have been cast upon them, by my Voice
Delivering her decisions from the seat
Of forward Youth - that scruples not to solve
Doubts, and determine questions, by the rules
Of inexperienced judgment, ever prone
To overweening faith; and is inflamed,
By courage, to demand from real life
The test of act and suffering-to provoke
Hostility, how dreadful when it comes,
Whether affliction be the foe, or guilt!
"A Child of earth, I rested, in that stage
Of my past course to which these thoughts advert,
Upon earth's native energies; forgetting
That mine was a condition which required
Nor energy, nor fortitude a calm
Without vicissitude; which, if the like
Had been presented to my view elsewhere,
I might have even been tempted to despise.
But that which was serene was also bright;
Enlivened happiness with joy o'erflowing,
With joy, and oh! that memory should survive
To speak the word with rapture! Nature's boon,
Life's genuine inspiration, happiness
Above what rules can teach, or fancy feign;
Abused, as all possessions are abused
That are not prized according to their worth.
And yet, what worth? what good is given to Men
More solid than the gilded clouds of heaven?
What joy more lasting than a vernal flower?
None! 'tis the general plaint of human kind
In solitude, and mutually addressed
From each to all, for wisdom's sake this truth
The Priest announces from his holy seat;
And, crowned with garlands in the summer grove,
The Poet fits it to his pensive lyre.
Yet, ere that final resting place be gained,
Sharp contradictions may arise by doom
Of this same life, compelling us to grieve
That the prosperities of love and joy
Should be permitted oft-times, to endure
So long, and be at once cast down for ever.
Oh! tremble, Ye, to whom hath been assigned
A course of days composing happy months,
And they as happy years; the present still
So like the past, and both so firm a pledge
Of a congenial future, that the wheels
Of pleasure move without the aid of hope:
For Mutability is Nature's bane;
And slighted Hope will be avenged; and, when
Ye need her favors, Ye shall find her not;
But in her stead fear - doubt and agony!"
This was the bitter language of the heart:
But, while he spake, look, gesture, tone of voice,
Though discomposed and vehement, were such
As skill and graceful Nature might suggest
To a Proficient of the tragic scene,
Standing before the multitude, beset
With dark events. Desirous to divert
O stem the current of the Speaker's thoughts,
We signified a wish to leave that Place
Of stillness and close privacy, a nook
That seemed for self-examination made,
Or, for confession, in the sinner's need,
Hidden from all Men's view. To our attempt
He yielded not; but pointing to a slope
Of mossy turf defended from the sun,
And, on that couch inviting us to rest,
Full on that tender-hearted Man he turned
A serious eye, and thus his speech renewed:
"You never saw, your eyes did never look On the bright Form of Her whom once I loved Her silver voice was heard upon the earth,
A sound unknown to you; else, honored Friend!
Your heart had borne a pitiable share
Of what I suffered, when I wept that loss,
And suffer now, not seldom, from the thought
That I remember, and can weep no more
Stripped as I am of all the golden fruit
Of self-esteem; and by the cutting blasts
Of self-reproach familiarly assailed;
I would not yet be of such wintry barrenness
But that some leaf of your regard should hang
Upon my naked branches: - lively thoughts
Give birth, full often, to unguarded words;
I grieve that, in your presence, from my tongue
Too much of frailty hath already dropped;
But that too much demands still more.
"You know,
and to you, kind Sir,
(Not to be deemed a Stranger, as you come Following the guidance of these welcome feet To our secluded Vale,) it may be told,
That my demerits did not sue in vain
To One on whose mild radiance many gazed
With hope, and all with pleasure. This fair Bride
In the devotedness of youthful Love,
Preferring me to Parents, and the choir
Of gay companions, to the natal roof,
And all known places and familiar sights,
(Resigned, with sadness gently weighing down
Her trembling expectations, but no more
Than did to her due honor, and to me
Yielded, that day, a confidence sublime
In what I had to build upon) - this Bride,
Young, modest, meek, and beautiful, I led
To a low Cottage in a sunny Bay,
Where the salt sea innocuously breaks,
And the sea breeze as innocently breathes
On Devon's leafy shores a sheltered Hold,
In a soft clime encouraging the soil
To a luxuriant bounty! As our steps
Approach the embowered Abode
See, rooted in the earth, her kindly bed,
The unendangered Myrtle, decked with flowers,
Before the threshold stands to welcome us!
While, in the flowering Myrtle's neighborhood,
Not overlooked but courting no regard,
Those native plants, the Holly and the Yew,
Gave modest intimation to the mind
How willingly their aid they would unite
With the green Myrtle, to endear the hours
Of winter, and protect that pleasant place.
- Wild were the Walks upon those lonely Downs, Track leading into Track, how marked, how worn Into bright verdure, between fern and gorse Winding away its never-ending line
On their smooth surface, evidence was none:
But, there, lay open to our daily haunt,
A range of unappropriated earth,
Where youth's ambitious feet might move at large;
Whence, unmolested Wanderer's, we beheld
The shining Giver of the Day diffuse
His brightness o'er a tract of sea and land
Gay as our spirits, free as our desires,
As our enjoyments, boundless. From those Heights
We dropped, at pleasure, into sylvan Combs ;
Where arbors of impenetrable shade,
And mossy seats, detained us side by side,
With hearts at ease, and knowledge in our hearts That all the grove and all the day was ours.'
"But Nature called my Partner to resign
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