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And walks of wider circuit were his choice,
And vales more wild, and mountains more sublime. One evening as he framed the careless rhyme, It was his chance to wander far abroad, And o'er a lonely eminence to climb, Which heretofore his foot had never trode ; A vale appear'd below, a deep retired abode.
Thither he hied, enamor'd of the scene: For rocks on rocks piled, as by magic spell, Here scorch'd with lightning, there with ivy green, Fenced from the north and east this savage dell; Southward a mountain rose, with easy swell, Whose long, long groves eternal murmur made; And toward the western sun a streamlet fell, Where, through the cliffs, the eye, remote, survey'd Blue hills, and glittering waves, and skies in gold array'd.
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;
One cultivated spot there was, that spread
Soothed by the lulling sound of grove and stream, Romantic visions swarm on Edwin's soul: He minded not the sun's last trembling gleam, Nor heard from far the twilight curfew toll ;— When slowly on his ear these moving accents stole :
"Hail, awful scenes, that calm the troubled breast, "And woo the weary to profound repose; "Can Passion's wildest uproar lay to rest, "And whisper comfort to the man of woes! "Here Innocence may wander, safe from foes, "And Contemplation soar on seraph wings. "O Solitude, the man who thee foregoes, "When lucre lures him, or ainbition stings, Shall never know the source whence real grandeur
"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 woe the locust can perform!
"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
-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.
Soon did the solemn voice its theme renew;
(While Edwin, wrapp'd in wonder, listening stood) "Ye tools and toys of tyranny, adieu, "Scorn'd by the wise, and hated by the good! "Ye only can engage the servile brood "Of Levity and Lust, who, all their days, "Ashamed of truth and liberty, have woo'd "And hugg'd the chain, that, glittering on their gaze, Seems to outshine the pomp of heaven's empyreal
"Like them, abandon'd te Ambition's sway, I sought for glory in the paths of guile; "And fawn'd and smiled, to plunder and betray, "Myself betray'd and plunder'd all the while; "So gnaw'd the viper the corroding file. "But now, with pangs of keen remorse, I "Those years of trouble and debasement vile.— "Yet why should I this cruel theme pursue? "Fly, fly, detested thoughts, for ever from my view.
"The gusts of appetite, the clouds of care, "And storms of disappointment, all o'erpast, "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,
age shall hear my name,
"And if no future "I lurk the more secure from Fortune's blast, "And with more leisure feed this pious. flame, Whose rapture far transcends the fairest hopes of fame.
"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, "Who ever felt his weight of woe decrease? "Ah! what avails the lore of Rome and Greece, "The lay heaven-prompted, and harmonious string, The dust of Ophir, or the Tyrian fleece, “All that art, fortune, enterprise, can bring, "If envy, scorn, remorse, or pride, the bosom wring?
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 breezy 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.
"And thither let the village swain repair;
"And when mild evening comes with mantle gray, "Let not the blooming band make haste to go; "No ghost nor spell my long and last abode shall know.
"For, though I fly to 'scape from Fortune's rage, "And bear the scars of envy, spite, and scorn, "Yet with mankind no horrid war I wage, "Yet with no impious spleen my breast is torn: "For virtue lost, and ruin'd man, I mourn. "O man, creation's pride, Heaven's darling child, Whom Nature's best, divinest gifts adorn, "Why from thy home are truth and joy exiled, "And all thy favorite haunts with blood and tears defiled?
"Along yon glittering sky what glory streams! "What majesty attends night's lovely queen! "Fair laugh our vallies in the vernal beams; "And mountains rise, and oceans roll between, "And all conspire to beautify the scene. "But, in the mental world, what chaos drear! "What forms, of mournful, loathsome, furious mien ! "O when shall that eternal morn appear, "These dreadful forms to chase, this chaos dark to
"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,