They started at the tributary peal
Of instantaneous thunder, which announced, Through the still air, the closing of the Grave, And distant mountains echoed with a sound Of lamentation, never heard before!"
The Pastor ceased.-My venerable Friend, Victoriously upraised his clear bright eye; And, when that eulogy was ended, stood Enrapt, as if his inward sense perceived The prolongation of some still response, Sent by the ancient Soul of this wide land, The Spirit of its mountains and its seas, Its cities, temples, fields, its awful power, Its rights and virtues-by that Deity Descending, and supporting his pure heart. With patriotic confidence and joy.
And, at the last of those memorial words, The pining Solitary turned aside; Whether through manly instinct to conceal Tender emotions spreading from the heart To his worn cheek; or with uneasy shame For those cold humors of habitual spleen That, fondly seeking in dispraise of man Solace and self-excuse, had sometimes urged. To self-abuse a not ineloquent tongue. -Right toward the sacred Edifice his steps Had been directed; and we saw him now Intent upon a monumental stone,
Whose uncouth form was grafted on the wall, Or rather seemed to have grown into the side Of the rude pile; as oft-times trunks of trees, Where nature works in wild and craggy spots,
Are seen incorporate with the living rock- To endure for aye. The Vicar, taking note Of his employment, with a courteous smile Exclaimed-
"The sagest Antiquarian's eye That task would foil;" then, letting fall his voice While he advanced, thus spake: "Tradition tells That, in Eliza's golden days, a Knight
Came on a war-horse sumptuously attired, And fixed his home in this sequestered vale. 'Tis left untold if here he first drew breath, Or as a stranger reached this deep recess, Unknowing and unknown. A pleasing thought I sometimes entertain, that haply bound To Scotland's court in service of his Queen, Or sent on mission to some northern Chief Of England's realm, this vale he might have seen With transient observation; and thence caught An image fair, which, brightening in his soul When joy of war and pride of chivalry Languished beneath accumulated years, Had power to draw him from the world, resolved To make that paradise his chosen home
To which his peaceful fancy oft had turned.
Vague thoughts are these; but, if belief may rest Upon unwritten story fondly traced
From sire to son, in this obscure retreat
The Knight arrived, with spear and shield, and borne Upon a Charger gorgeously bedecked
With broidered housings. And the lofty Steed- His sole companion, and his faithful friend, Whom he, in gratitude, let loose to range
In fertile pastures-was beheld with eyes Of admiration and delightful awe,
By those untravelled Dalesmen. With less pride, Yet free from touch of envious discontent, They saw a mansion at his bidding rise, Like a bright star, amid the lowly band
Of their rude homesteads. Here the Warrior dwelt; And, in that mansion, children of his own, Or kindred, gathered round him. As a tree That falls and disappears, the house is gone; And, through improvidence or want of love For ancient worth and honorable things,
The spear and shield are vanished, which the Knight Hung in his rustic hall. One ivied arch
Myself have seen, a gateway, last remains
Of that foundation in domestic care
And now no trace is left
Of the mild-hearted Champion, save this stone, Faithless memorial! and his family name Borne by yon clustering cottages, that sprang From out the ruins of his stately lodge: These, and the name and title at full length,- Sir Alfred Erthing, with appropriate words Accompanied, still extant, in a wreath Or posy, girding round the several fronts Of three clear-sounding and harmonious bells, That in the steeple hang, his pious gift."
"So fails, so languishes, grows dim, and dies," The grey-haired Wanderer pensively exclaimed, "All that this world is proud of. From their spheres The stars of human glory are cast down; Perish the roses and the flowers of kings
Princes, and Emperors, and the crowns and palms Of all the mighty, withered and consumed !1s Nor is power given to lowliest innocence Long to protect her own.
Departs; and soon is spent the line of those Who, in the bodily image, in the mind,
In heart or soul, in station or pursuit, Did most resemble him. Fraternities and orders-heaping high New wealth upon the burthen of the old, And placing trust in privilege confirmed And re-confirmed-are scoffed at with a smile Of greedy foretaste, from the secret stand Of Desolation, aimed to slow decline These yield, and these to sudden overthrow: Their virtue, service, happiness, and state Expire; and nature's pleasant robe of green, Humanity's appointed shroud, enwraps-
Their monuments and their memory. The vast Frame Of social nature changes evermore
Her organs and her members with decay Restless, and restless generation, powers And functions dying and produced at need,— And by this law the mighty whole subsists: With an ascent and progress in the main; Yet, oh! how disproportioned to the hopes And expectations of self-flattering minds!
The courteous Knight, whose bones are here interred,
Lived in an age conspicuous as our own
For strife and ferment in the minds of men;
Whence alteration in the forms of things,
Various and vast. A memorable age! Which did to him assign a pensive lot— To linger 'mid the last of those bright clouds That, on the steady breeze of honor, sailed In long procession calm and beautiful.
He who had seen his own bright order fade, And its devotion gradually decline, (While war, relinquishing the lance and shield Her temper changed, and bowed to other laws) Had also witnessed, in his morn of life, That violent commotion, which o'erthrew, In town and city and sequestered glen, Altar, and cross, and church of solemn roof, And old religious house-pile after pile; And shook their tenants out into the fields,
Like wild beasts without home! Their hour was
But why no softening thought of gratitude,
No just remembrance, scruple, or wise doubt? Benevolence is mild; nor borrows help, Save at worst need, from bold impetuous force Fitliest allied to anger and revenge. But Human-kind rejoices in the might Of mutability; and airy hopes, Dancing around her, hinder and disturb Those meditations of the soul that feed The retrospective virtues. Festive songs Break from the maddened nations at the sight Of sudden overthrow; and cold neglect
Is the sure consequence of slow decay.
Even," said the Wanderer, as that courteous
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