Within the garden, like the rest, a bed a space, Of the Bees murmuring round their sheltered hives Laid open through the blazing window; there The never halting Time; or, in her turn, - Mild Man! he is not gay, but they are gay; And the whole house seems filled with gaiety. - Thrice happy, then, the Mother may be deemed, The Wife, from whose consolatory grave I turned, that ye in mind might witness where, And how, her Spirit yet survives on Earth." Impression of these Narratives upon the Author's mind -- Pastor invited to give account of certain graves that lie apart — - Clergyman and his Family-Fortunate influence of change of situation Activity in extreme old age- Another Clergyman, a character of resolute Virtue - Lamentations over misdirected applause - Instance of less exalted excellence in a deaf man - Elevated character of a blind man- Reflection upon blindness Interrupted by a Peasant who passes-His animal cheerfulness and careless vivacity — He occasions a digression on the fall of beautiful and interesting TreesA female Infant's Grave Joy at her Birth Sorrow at her Departure A youthful Peasant His patriotic enthusiasm distingushed qualities and untimely death-Exultation of the Wanderer, as a patriot, in this Picture Solitary, how affected Monument of a Knight Traditions concerning him- Peroration of the Wanderer on the transitoriness of things and the revolutions of society-Hinta at his own past Calling- Thanks the Pastor. WHILE thus from theme to theme the Historian passed (What time the splendor of the setting sun A wandering Youth, I listened with delight Drawn from the chords of the ancient British harp For their heart's ease or pleasure. Strains of power But to a higher mark than song can reach Rose this pure eloquence. And, when the stream A consciousness remained that it had left, Deposited upon the silent shore Of memory, images and precious thoughts, "These grassy heaps lie amicably close," Said I, "like surges heaving in the wind Upon the surface of a mountain pool; Whence comes it then, that yonder we behold Five graves, and only five, that rise together Unsociably sequestered, and encroaching On the smooth play-ground of the Village-school?" The Vicar answered. "No disdainful pride In them who rest beneath, nor any course Once more look forth, and follow with your sight The length of road that from yon mountain's base Through bare enclosures stretches, till its line Is lost within a little tuft of trees, Then reappearing in a moment, quits The cultured fields, and up the heathy waste, That little shady spot, that sylvan tuft, "Rough and forbidding were the choicest roads By which our Northern wilds could then be crossed And into most of these secluded Vales Was no access for wain, heavy or light. So, at his Dwelling-place the Priest arrived With store of household goods, in panniers slung On sturdy horses graced with jingling bells, And on the back of more ignoble beast; Two ruddy Children hung, a well-poised freight, Their bonnets, I remember, wreathed with flowers, That gathered round the slowly-moving train. to swell 'Whence do they come? and with what errand charged? Belong they to the fortune-telling Tribe Who pitch their tents beneath the green-wood Tree Or are they Strollers, furnished to enact Fair Rosamond, and the Children of the Wood, And by that whiskered Tabby's aid, set forth The lucky venture of sage Whittington, When the next Village hears the Show announced From some staid Guardian of the public peace, By notice indirect, or blunt demand, From Traveller halting in his own despite, |