\ VIII. Along this narrow valley you might see The wild deer sporting on the meadow ground, Or mossy stone, or rock with woodbine crown'd. Of parted fragments tumbling from on high; IX. One cultivated spot there was, that spread X. "Hail, awful scenes, that calm the troubled breast, "Shall never know the source whence real grandeur springs. XI. "Vain man, is grandeur given to gay attire? "Then let the butterfly thy pride upbraid: "To friends, attendants, armies, bought with hire? "It is thy weakness that requires their aid: "To palaces, with gold and gems inlay'd? "They fear the thief, and tremble in the storm: "To hosts, through carnage who to conquest wade? "Behold the victor vanquish'd by the worm! "Behold, what deeds of wo the locust can perform! XII. "True dignity is his, whose tranquil mind "Virtue has raised above the things below; "Who, every hope and fear to Heaven resign'd, "Shrinks not, though Fortune aim her deadliest blow." This strain from 'midst the rocks was heard to flow, In solemn sounds. Now beam'd the evening star; And from embattled clouds emerging slow Cynthia came riding on her silver car ; And hoary mountain-cliffs shone faintly from afar. XIII. Soon did the solemn voice its theme renew; "Scorn'd by the wise, and hated by the good! "And hug'd the chain, that glittering on their gaze "Seems to outshine the pomp of heaven's empyreal blaze. XIV. "Like them, abandon'd to Ambition's sway, "I sought for glory in the paths of guile; "And fawn'd and smiled, to plunder and betray, XV. "The gusts of appetite, the clouds of care, "Henceforth, no earthly hope with heaven shall share "This heart, where peace serenely shines at last. "And if for me no treasure be amass'd, "And if no future age shall hear my name, "I lurk the more secure from fortune's blast, "And with more leisure feed this pious flame, "Whose rapture far transcends the fairest hope of fame. XVI. "The end and the reward of toil is rest. "Be all my prayer for virtue and for peace. "Of wealth and fame, of pomp and power possess'd, "All that art, fortune, enterprise, can bring, XVII. "Let Vanity adorn the marble tomb "With trophies, rhymes, and 'scutcheons of renown, "In the deep dungeon of some Gothic dome, "Where night and desolation ever frown. "Mine be the breeezy hill that skirts the down; "Where a green grassy turf is all I crave, "With here and there a violet bestrown, "Fast by a brook, or fountain's murmuring wave; "And many an evening sun shine sweetly on my grave. XVIII. "And thither let the village swain repair; "And, light of heart, the village maiden gay, "To deck with flowers her half-dishevel'd hair, "And celebrate the merry morn of May. "There let the shepherd's pipe the live-long day "Fill all the grove with love's bewitching wo; "And when mild Evening comes in mantle grey, "Let not the blooming band make haste to go; "No ghost nor spell my long and last abode shall know. XIX. "For though I fly to 'scape from Fortune's rage, "Yet with no impious spleen my breast is torn; "And all thy favourite haunts with blood and tears defiled! XX. "Along yon glittering sky what glory streams! But, in the mental world, what chaos drear! "These dreadful forms to chase, this chaos dark to clear ! XXI. "O Thou, at whose creative smile, yon heaven, "In all the pomp of beauty, life and light, "Rose from th' abyss; when dark Confusion, driven "Down, down the bottomless profound of night, "Fled, where he ever flies thy piercing sight! “O glance on these sad shades one pitying ray, "To blast the fury of oppressive might, "Melt the hard heart to love and mercy's sway, And cheer the wandering soul, and light him on the way." XXII. Silence ensued: and Edwin raised his eyes And dares he thus the gifts of heaven pervert, He said, and turn'd away; nor did the Sage ; * How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank. Shakspeare. XXIV. But he from day to day more anxious grew. "No more in vain conjecture let me wear " My hours away, but seek the Hermit's cell; 'Tis he my doubt can clear, perhaps my care dispel.” XXV. At early dawn the Youth his journey took, An ancient man: his harp lay him beside. And, kneeling, lick'd the wither'd hand that tied XXVI. And now the hoary Sage arose, and saw "Who art thou, courteous stranger? and from whence! "Nor levity nor falsehood shall thine ear assail. XXVII. "Late as I roam'd, intent on Nature's charms, "Or in the giddy storm of dissipation toss'd. |