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or a Deist, as he happened to be in
"Oh! night, the mood_or as this no-belief or that And storm and darkness, ye are wondrons seemed best suited for a series of strong, stanzas to astonish the natives. We Yet lovely in your strength, as is the light have seen what he made by trying to Of a dark eye in woman !!!” “ mingle with the universe." In one There are some fine and noble things of the most admired passages in the in these same stanzas, but mixed with third book of the Childe, throughout baser matter, and that, too, at the very the whole of which he is haunted by moment when the soul in its emotion Wordsworth, whom he would, all in of grandeur was desiring nothing but vain, hate and imitate-while decla- the truth. ring that he has delivered himself up,
" Far along, soul and body, to the feeling of the From peak to peak, the rattling crags infinite, the supersensual, and the spi- among, ritual, sympathizes with the carly Leaps the live thunder" Persian in making
is glorious; but, alas ! how could the
same man who said that say “ His altar the high places, and the peak Of earth o'ergazing mountains,"
" And now the glee
Of the loud hills shakes with its mountain. and exclaims,
mirth, « Come and compare
As if they did rejoice o'er a young earthColumns and idol-dwellings, Goth or
quake's birth!!" Greek,
Now turn to Wordsworth-not on With nature's realms of worship, earth and air,
account of any similarity of style, for
there is none, between him and Byron Nor fix on fond abodes to circumscribe thy prayer ;"
-Nor yet on account of much similar
ity between the objects dealt with, for even in that very mood of ecstasy, there is little, except that they are in rapt and inspired beyond this “ visible both cases objects of nature—but on diurnal sphere" by the more glorious account of the manifest but unsuccessaspects itself assumes, he destroys our ful straining, in the stanzas we have delusion, and lets us into the secret of been reading, after the spirit of the his own-or rather into that of his de- communion which Wordsworth holds ception-by a single blow that jars all in his poetry with all outward things. the nerves in our body
66 These beauteous forms, Through a long absence, have not been to me As is a landscape to a blind man's eye : But oft, in lonely rooms, and mid the din Of towns and cities, I have owed to them, In hours of weariness, sensations sweet, Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart ; And passing even into my purer mind, With tranquil restoration :-feelings, too, Of unremembered pleasure : such, perhaps, As have no slight or trivial influence On that best portion of a good man's life, Ilis little, nameless, unremembered acts Of kindness and of love. Nor less, I trust, To them I may have owed another gift Of aspect more sublime ; that blesses most In which the burthen of the mystery, In which the heavy and the weary weight Of all this unintelligible world, Is lighten'd :--that serene and blessed mood, In which the affections gently lead us onUntil the breath of this corporeal frame, And even the motion of our human blood Almost suspended, we are laid asleep In body, and become a living soul: While with an eye made quiet by the power
Of harmony, and the deep power of joy,
" If this
And so I dare to hope,
" When like a roe
" That time is past,
For I have learned
" And I have felt
The anchor of my purest thoughts, the nurse,
Of all my moral being."
Or turn to that glorious passage in the Excursion--but the mountains all wear an unusual hush, and we shall give it utterance to glorify the gloom.
“ Such was the Boy--but for the growing youth
People say that, of all poets, Byron alone has fitly sung the sea. recite the celebrated close of Childe Harold.
“Oh! that the Desert were my dwelling-place,
Ye Elements !-in whose ennobling stir
In deeming such inhabit many a spot ?
“ There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
To mingle with the Universe, and feel
“ Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean--roll!
He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan, Without a grave, unknell’d, uncoffin'd, and unknown.
“ His steps are not upon thy paths,—thy fields
His petty hope in some near port or bay,
“ The armaments which thunderstrike the walls
They melt into thy yest of waves, which mar
“ Thy shores are empires, changed in all save thee-
Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow-
“ Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form
The monsters of the deep are made ; each zone Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless alone,
66 Do I err
“ And I have loved thee, Ocean! and my joy
And trusted to thy billows far and near,
And laid my hand upon thy mane- as I do here." What connexion of thought or therefore be a natural and pleasing feeling is there between the first and one ; but here it reminds one of Paul the second of these stanzas ? None. Pry. “ And music in its roar" is Nay, thougli manifestly supposed by an irrelevant and impertinent fact. the poet to be embued with one and “ From these our interviews” is far the same spirit, they cut each other's from poetical—and it is paying Nature throats. In the first he longs and but a poor compliment to say " I love prays for a friend of his soul-a fe- her the more. 6 To mingle with male-to sip with him in the desert the universe" we have had rather too the goblet of delight ; in the second often—it is strong, but far from origihe declares there is no happiness like nal; and never was there such an inthat of mingling with the universe. potent conclusion as
“ and feel “ With one fair spirit for my minister.”
What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all It would seem she were not to be hu
conceal!" man, for with her he yearns to live,
But what think ye, Mountains, of that “ he might forget all the human the Address to the Ocean? What! race.” Yet while fancying such an
not one among you that has got the one as he desires, he asks
courage to speak out? You all look
as if ye were deaf and dumb. Clap In deeming such inhabit many a spot,
your hands then, in sign of praiseThough with them to converse can rarely and Thou with the coronet of clouds, be our lot ?"
unking thyself in homage to the great
Poet of the Sea. He asks the elements if they can accord him such a being-the elements _'tis their Siesta — and every mo
Not a word will one of them utter “ in whose ennobling stir he feels ther's son of them is asleep. Like himself cxalted”--though
horses they seldom lie down, and preno high exaltation in such an apos- fer to dream on their feet. But we trophe-and we shall believe, there
must awaken them-Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! fore, that “ the one fair spirit” is a child of their own—but in what is to while coming here, all the way from
HA! ha! ha! - Well, it was worth liv her ministry? Will her sex pro- Auld Reckie, for sake of that circular tect her? Why has the fair spirit series of echoes. Another yet-like
Is he too to be a spirit in the the smothered laughter of a Fairy, far desert? Ah! no. A man.
So it is only a new version of the old story
far away, hiding herself in a hillock the impassioned poet is still flesh and with the voice of some mysterious
so sweet and wild it was—so musical blood—and the child of the elements, kind of life! aerial as she seems, or of illumined
If Cruachan will not criticise, Christears, or lambent fire that burns not, will be found after all to have a tain: topher must-and what then, we ask of earth.
ourselves, and you most attentive Setting aside its inconsistency with audience of Clouds, who, judging
from what precedes it, there is not in the have made up your minds to follow
the enlightened gloom on your faces, second stanza much power either of
our lecture with thunders of applause thought or expression.
- what then, thou beautiful but bro“ There is society where none intrudes,
ken Sky who look'st somewhat restless By the deep sea, and music in its roar," and as if thou wast given to changeis the repetition, for the tenth or twen- what then, 0 Sun who hast such an tieth time in the poem, of a sentiment eye for nature-and what, О Nature, that pleased Cicero, Plutarch, Bacon, who lovest all things and hast them and many other wise men, and must given thee into thy holy keeping-what