400

Were steeped in feeling; I was only then
Contented, when with bliss ineffable
I felt the sentiment of Being spread
O'er all that moves and all that seemeth
still;

O'er all that, lost beyond the reach of thought

And human knowledge, to the human eye Invisible, yet liveth to the heart;

O'er all that leaps and runs, and shouts and sings,

Or beats the gladsome air; o'er all that glides

Beneath the wave, yea, in the wave itself, And mighty depth of waters. Wonder not If high the transport, great the joy I felt, Communing in this sort through earth and heaven

411

With every form of creature, as it looked
Towards the Uncreated with a countenance
Of adoration, with an eye of love.
One song they sang, and it was audible,
Most audible, then, when the fleshly ear,
O'ercome by humblest prelude of that strain,
Forgot her functions, and slept undisturbed.

420

If this be error, and another faith Find easier access to the pious mind, Yet were I grossly destitute of all Those human sentiments that make this earth

So dear, if I should fail with grateful voice To speak of you, ye mountains, and ye lakes And sounding cataracts, ye mists and winds That dwell among the hills where I was born.

If in my youth I have been pure in heart, If, mingling with the world, I am content With my own modest pleasures, and have lived

With God and Nature communing, removed

430

From little enmities and low desires-
The gift is yours; if in these times of fear,
This melancholy waste of hopes o'erthrown,
If, 'mid indifference and apathy,
And wicked exultation when good men
On every side fall off, we know not how,
To selfishness, disguised in gentle names
Of peace and quiet and domestic love
Yet mingled not unwillingly with sneers
On visionary minds; if, in this time
Of dereliction and dismay, I yet
Despair not of our nature, but retain
A more than Roman confidence, a faith

440

120

Incumbencies more awful, visitings
Of the Upholder of the tranquil soul,
That tolerates the indignities of Time,
And, from the centre of Eternity
All finite motions overruling, lives
In glory immutable. But peace! enough
Here to record that I was mounting now
To such community with highest truth
A track pursuing, not untrod before,
From strict analogies by thought supplied
Or consciousnesses not to be subdued.

To every natural form, rock, fruits, or flower,

Even the loose stones that cover the highway,

I gave a moral life: I saw them feel,

Or linked them to some feeling: the great

Of amorous passion. And that gentle Bard, Chosen by the Muses for their Page of State

Sweet Spenser, moving through his clouded heaven

280

With the moon's beauty and the moon's soft pace,

I called him Brother, Englishman, and Friend!

Yea, our blind Poet, who in his later day,
Stood almost single; uttering odious truth
Darkness before, and danger's voice behind,
Soul awful if the earth has ever lodged
An awful soul- I seemed to see him here
Familiarly, and in his scholar's dress
Bounding before me, yet a stripling youth-
A boy, no better, with his rosy cheeks
Angelical, keen eye, courageous look,
And conscious step of purity and pride.

290

From the assembly; through a length of streets,

Ran, ostrich-like, to reach our chapel door
In not a desperate or opprobrious time,
Albeit long after the importunate bell
Had stopped, with wearisome Cassandra
voice

No longer haunting the dark winter night. Call back, O Friend!1 a moment to thy mind, The place itself and fashion of the rites. 310 With careless ostentation shouldering up My surplice, through the inferior throng I clove

Of the plain Burghers, who in audience stood
On the last skirts of their permitted ground,
Under the pealing organ. Empty thoughts!
I am ashamed of them: and that great Bard,
And thou, O Friend! who in thy ample
mind.

Hast placed me high above my best deserts,
Ye will forgive the weakness of that hour,
In some of its unworthy vanities,
Brother to many more.

BOOK IV

[Lines 256-338]

320