And, at the touch of every wandering breeze, Soul-cheering Light, most bountiful of things! Guide of our way, mysterious comforter! Whose sacred influence, spread through earth and heaven, We all too thanklessly participate, Thy gifts were utterly withheld from him Not more endangered than a man whose eye Fancy, and understanding; while the voice With eloquence, and such authentic power, "A noble-and, to unreflecting minds, A marvellous spectacle," the Wanderer said, "Beings like these present! But proof abounds Upon the earth that faculties, which seem Extinguished, do not, therefore, cease to be. And to the mind among her powers of sense This transfer is permitted,-not alone That the bereft their recompense may win; But for remoter purposes of love And charity; nor last nor least for this, That to the imagination may be given A type and shadow of an awful truth; How, likewise, under sufferance divine, Darkness is banished from the realms of death, By man's imperishable spirit, quelled. Unto the men who see not as we see Futurity was thought, in ancient times, To be laid open, and they prophesied. And know we not that from the blind have flowed The highest, holiest, raptures of the lyre; And wisdom married to immortal verse ?" Among the humbler Worthies, at our feet Lying insensible to human praise, Love, or regret,—whose lineaments would next Have been portrayed, I guess not; but it chanced That, near the quiet church-yard where we sate, A team of horses, with a ponderous freight 66 mourn 'Here," said the Pastor, "do we muse, and The waste of death; and lo! the giant oak Stretched on his bier-that massy timber wain; Nor fail to note the Man who guides the team." He was a peasant of the lowest class: Grey locks profusely round his temples hung In clustering curls, like ivy, which the bite Of winter cannot thin; the fresh air lodged Within his cheek, as light within a cloud; And he returned our greeting with a smile. When he had passed, the Solitary spake: "A Man he seems of cheerful yesterdays And confident to-morrows; with a face Not worldly-minded, for it bears too much Of Nature's impress,-gaiety and health, Freedom and hope; but keen, withal, and shrewd. His gestures note,—and hark! his tones of voice Are all vivacious as his mien and looks." The Pastor answered. "You have read him well. Year after year is added to his store The obligation of an anxious mind, A pride in having, or a fear to lose; With foresight; hears, too, every Sabbath day, Nor will, I trust, the Majesty of Heaven Though of the kind which beasts and birds present How many scrupulous worshippers fall down Less worthy, less religious even, than his! This qualified respect, the old Man's due, Is paid without reluctance; but in truth," (Said the good Vicar with a fond half-smile), "I feel at times a motion of despite Towards one, whose bold contrivances and skill, As you have seen, bear such conspicuous part In works of havoc; taking from these vales, One after one, their proudest ornaments. Full oft his doings leave me to deplore Tall ash-tree, sown by winds, by vapours nursed, A veil of glory for the ascending moon ; And oak whose roots by noontide dew were damped, And on whose forehead inaccessible The raven lodged in safety.-Many a ship Launched into Morecamb-bay, to him hath owed Her strong knee-timbers, and the mast that bears That whirls (how slow itself!) ten thousand spindles : Among the mountain coves. Yon household fir, 12 The fleece-encumbered flock-the JOYFUL ELM, Around whose trunk the maidens dance in MayAnd the LORD'S OAK-would plead their several rights In vain, if he were master of their fate; His sentence to the axe would doom them all. But, green in age, and lusty as he is, And promising to keep his hold on earth Now from the living pass we once again : From Age," the Priest continued, "turn your thoughts; |