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BOOK SIXTH.

THE CHURCH-YARD AMONG THE

MOUNTAINS.

HAIL to the crown by Freedom shaped-to gird
An English Sovereign's brow! and to the throne
Whereon he sits! Whose deep foundations lie
In veneration and the people's love;

Whose steps are equity, whose seat is law.
-Hail to the State of England! And conjoin
With this a salutation as devout,

Made to the spiritual fabric of her Church;
Founded in truth; by blood of Martyrdom
Cemented; by the hands of Wisdom reared
In beauty of holiness, with ordered pomp,
Decent, and unreproved. The voice, that greets
The majesty of both, shall pray for both;
That, mutually protected and sustained,
They may endure long as the sea surrounds
This favoured Land, or sunshine warms her soil.

And O, ye swelling hills, and spacious plains!
Besprent from shore to shore with steeple-towers,
And spires whose 'silent finger points to heaven;'
Nor wanting, at wide intervals, the bulk
Of ancient minster, lifted above the cloud
Of the dense air, which town or city breeds
To intercept the sun's glad beams—may ne'er
That true succession fail of English hearts,
Who, with ancestral feeling, can perceive
What in those holy structures ye possess
Of ornamental interest, and the charm
Of pious sentiment diffused afar,
And human charity, and social love.
—Thus never shall the indignities of time
Approach their reverend graces, unopposed;
Nor shall the elements be free to hurt
Their fair proportions; nor the blinder

Of bigot zeal madly to overturn ;
And, if the desolating hand of war

rage

Spare them, they shall continue to bestow,"
Upon the thronged abodes of busy men
(Depraved, and ever prone to fill the mind
Exclusively with transitory things)
An air and mien of dignified pursuit ;
Of sweet civility, on rustic wilds.

The Poet, fostering for his native land
Such hope, entreats that servants may abound
Of those pure altars worthy; ministers

Detached from pleasure, to the love of gain
Superior, insusceptible of pride,

And by ambitious longings undisturbed ;
Men, whose delight is where their duty leads
Or fixes them; whose least distinguished day
Shines with some portion of that heavenly lustre
Which makes the sabbath lovely in the sight
Of blessed angels, pitying human cares.
-And, as on earth it is the doom of truth
To be perpetually attacked by foes
Open or covert, be that priesthood still,
For her defence, replenished with a band
Of strenuous champions, in scholastic arts
Thoroughly disciplined; nor (if in course
Of the revolving world's disturbances

Cause should recur, which righteous Heaven avert !
To meet such trial) from their spiritual sires
Degenerate; who, constrained to wield the sword
Of disputation, shrunk not, though assailed
With hostile din, and combating in sight
Of angry umpires, partial and unjust;
And did, thereafter, bathe their hands in fire,
So to declare the conscience satisfied:

Nor for their bodies would accept release;

But, blessing God and praising him, bequeathed
With their last breath, from out the smouldering flame,
The faith which they by diligence had earned,

Or, through illuminating grace, received,

For their dear countrymen, and all mankind. O high example, constancy divine!

Even such a Man (inheriting the zeal And from the sanctity of elder times Not deviating, a priest, the like of whom, If multiplied, and in their stations set, Would o'er the bosom of a joyful land Spread true religion and her genuine fruits) Before me stood that day; on holy ground Fraught with the relics of mortality, Exalting tender themes, by just degrees To lofty raised; and to the highest, last; The head and mighty paramount of truths,— Immortal life, in never-fading worlds,

For mortal creatures, conquered and secured.

That basis laid, those principles of faith
Announced, as a preparatory act

Of reverence to the spirit of the place,
The Pastor cast his eyes upon the ground;
Not, as before, like one oppressed with awe,
But with a mild and social cheerfulness;
Then to the Solitary turned, and spake.

"At morn or eve, in your retired domain, Perchance you not unfrequently have marked A Visitor-in quest of herbs and flowers;

Too delicate employ, as would appear,

For one, who, though of drooping mien, had yet From nature's kindliness received a frame

Robust as ever rural labour bred."

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Full well I recollect. We often crossed

Each other's path; but, as the Intruder seemed
Fondly to prize the silence which he kept,
And I as willingly did cherish mine,

We met, and passed, like shadows. I have heard,
From my good Host, that being crazed in brain
By unrequited love, he scaled the rocks,

Dived into caves, and pierced the matted woods,
In hope to find some virtuous herb of power
To cure his malady!"

The Vicar smiled,

"Alas! before to-morrow's sun goes down

His habitation will be here: for him

That open grave is destined."

"Died he then

Of pain and grief?" the Solitary asked,

"Do not believe it; never could that be!"

i "He loved," the Vicar answered, "deeply loved, Loved fondly, truly, fervently; and dared

At length to tell his love, but sued in vain;
Rejected, yea repelled; and, if with scorn
Upon the haughty maiden's brow, 'tis but

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