"Housed near a blazing fire-is seen to flit
"Safe from the wintry tempest. Fluttering,1
"Here did it enter; there, on hasty wing,
"Flies out, and passes on from cold to cold;
"But whence it came we know not, nor behold
Whither it
goes. Even such, that transient Thing,
"The human Soul; not utterly unknown

"While in the Body lodged, her warm abode ;
"But from what world She came, what woe or weal
"On her departure waits, no tongue hath shown;
"This mystery if the Stranger can reveal,
"His be a welcome cordially bestowed!"

1 1837.

1822.

"That, stealing in while by the fire you sit "Housed with rejoicing Friends, is seen to flit "Safe from the storm, in comfort tarrying. through the wisdom which the true God hath given me, to destroy, for the good example of others, what in foolishness I worshipped? Immediately, casting away vain superstition, he besought the King to grant him what the laws did not allow to a priest, arms and a courser (equum emmissarium); which mounting, and furnished with a sword and lance, he proceeded to destroy the Idols. The crowd, seeing this, thought him madhe however halted not, but approaching he profaned the temple, casting against it the lance which he had held in his hand, and, exulting in acknowledgment of the worship of the true God, he ordered his companions to pull down the temple, with all its enclosures. The place is shown where those idols formerly stood, not far from York, at the source of the river Derwent, and is at this day called Gormund Gaham, "ubi pontifex ille, inspirante Deo vero, polluit ac destruxit eas, quas ipse sacraverat aras." The last expression is a pleasing proof that the venerable monk of Wearmouth was familiar with the poetry of Virgil.-W. W., 1822.

The following is Bede's account of the speech of "another of the king's chief men:""The present life of man, O king, seems to me in comparison. of that time which is unknown to us, like to the swift flight of a sparrow through the room wherein you sit, at supper in winter, with your commanders and ministers, and a good fire in the midst, whilst the storms of rain and snow prevail abroad. The sparrow, I say-flying in at one door, and immediately out at another-whilst he is within, is safe from the misty storm; but, after a short space of fair weather, he immediately vanishes out of your sight into the dark winter from which he had emerged. So this life of man appears for a short space, but of what went before, and of what is to follow, we are utterly ignorant. If therefore this new doctrine contains something more certain, it seems justly to deserve to be followed." -ED.

APOLOGY.

17

XVII.

CONVERSION.*

PROMPT transformation works the novel Lore;
The Council closed, the Priest in full career
Rides forth, an armèd man, and hurls a spear
To desecrate the Fane which heretofore
He served in folly. Woden falls, and Thor
Is overturned: the mace, in battle heaved
(So might they dream) till victory was achieved,
Drops, and the God himself is seen no more.
Temple and Altar sink, to hide their shame
Amid oblivious weeds, "O come to me,
Ye heavy laden!" such the inviting voice
Heard near fresh streams; † and thousands, who rejoice
In the new Rite-the pledge of sanctity-

Shall, by regenerate life, the promise claim.

XVIII.

APOLOGY.

NOR scorn the aid which Fancy oft doth lend
The Soul's eternal interests to promote:
Death, darkness, danger, are our natural lot;
And evil Spirits may our walk attend
For aught the wisest know or comprehend;
Then be good Spirits free to breathe a note

1 1827.

Then let the good be free

* See Wordsworth's note to Sonnet XVI. -ED.

1822.

+ The early propagators of Christianity were accustomed to preach near rivers, for the convenience of baptism.-W. W., 1822.

Of elevation; let their odours float

Around these Converts: and their glories blend,
The midnight stars outshining,1 or the blaze
Of the noon-day. Nor doubt that golden cords
Of good works, mingling with the visions, raise
The Soul to purer worlds: and who the line
Shall draw, the limits of the power define,
That even imperfect faith to man affords?

*

XIX.

PRIMITIVE SAXON CLERGY.*

How beautiful your presence, how benign,
Servants of God! who not a thought will share
With the vain world; who, outwardly as bare
As winter trees, yield no fallacious sign

That the firm soul is clothed with fruit divine!
Such Priest, when service worthy of his care
Has called him forth to breathe the common air,
Might seem a saintly Image from its shrine
Descended-happy are the eyes that meet
The Apparition; evil thoughts are stayed

At his approach, and low-bowed necks entreat

A benediction from his voice or hand;

Whence grace, through which the heart can understand, And vows, that bind the will, in silence made.

Having spoken of the zeal, disinterestedness, and temperance of the clergy of those times, Bede thus proceeds :-“Unde et in magna erat veneratione tempore illo religionis habitus, ita ut ubicunque clericus aliquis, aut monachus adveniret, gaudenter ab omnibus tanquam Dei famulus exciperetur. Etiam si in itinere pergens inveniretur, accurrebant, et flexâ cervice vel manu signari, vel ore illius se benedici, gaudebant. Verbis quoque horum exhortatoriis diligenter auditum præbebant." Lib. iii. cap. 26.-W. W., 1822.

SECLUSION.

19

XX.

OTHER INFLUENCES.

Aн, when the Body,1 round which in love we clung,
Is chilled by death, does mutual service fail?

Is tender pity then of no avail ?

Are intercessions of the fervent tongue

A waste of hope ?-From this sad source have sprung Rites that console the Spirit, under grief

Which ill can brook more rational relief:

Hence, prayers are shaped amiss, and dirges sung
For Souls 2 whose doom is fixed! The way is smooth
For Power that travels with the human heart:

Confession ministers the pang to soothe

In him who at the ghost of guilt doth start.
Ye holy Men, so earnest in your care,
Of your own mighty instruments beware!

XXI.

SECLUSION.

LANCE, shield, and sword relinquished, at his side
A bead-roll, in his hand a clasped book,

Or staff more harmless than a shepherd's crook,
The war-worn Chieftain quits the world-to hide
His thin autumnal locks where Monks abide

In cloistered privacy. But not to dwell

In soft repose he comes.

Within his cell,

Round the decaying trunk of human pride,
At morn, and eve, and midnight's silent hour,
Do penitential cogitations cling;

Like ivy, round some ancient elm, they twine
In grisly folds and strictures serpentine;

Yet, while they strangle, a fair growth they bring,1
For recompense-their own perennial bower.

XXII.

CONTINUED.

METHINKS that to some vacant hermitage
My feet would rather turn-to some dry nook
Scooped out of living rock, and near a brook
Hurled down a mountain-cove from stage to stage,
Yet tempering, for my sight, its bustling rage.
In the soft heaven of a translucent pool;
Thence creeping under sylvan 2 arches cool,
Fit haunt of shapes whose glorious equipage
Would elevate my dreams.† A beechen bowl,
A maple dish, my furniture should be;
Crisp, yellow leaves my bed; the hooting owl
My night-watch: nor should e'er the crested fowl

The "ancient elm," with ivy twisting round it "in grisly folds and strictures serpentine,” which suggested these lines, grew in Rydal Park, near the path to the upper waterfall.-ED.

There are several natural "hermitages" such as this near the Rydal beck.-ED.