In furnishing clear guidance, a support
Not treacherous, to the Mind's excursive Power.
So build we up the Being that we are;
Thus deeply drinking-in the Soul of Things
We shall be wise perforce; and while inspired
By choice, and conscious that the Will is free,
Unswerving shall we move, as if impelled
By strict necessity, along the path
Of order and of good. Whate'er we see,
Whate'er we feel, by agency direct
Or indirect shall tend to feed and nurse
Our faculties, shall fix in calmer seats
Of moral strength, and raise to loftier heights
Of love divine, our intellectual Soul."

Here closed the Sage that eloquent harangue, Poured forth with fervour in continuous stream; Such as, remote mid savage wilderness, An Indian Chief discharges from his breast Into the hearing of assembled Tribes,

In

open circle seated round, and hushed

As the unbreathing air, when not a leaf

Stirs in the mighty woods. So did he speak :

The words he uttered shall not pass away;

For they sank into me- the bounteous gift

Of One whom time and nature had made wise, Gracing his language with authority

Which hostile spirits silently allow ;

Of One accustomed to desires that feed
On fruitage gathered from the Tree of Life;
To hopes on knowledge and experience built;
Of One in whom persuasion and belief
Had ripened intò faith, and faith become
A passionate intuition; whence the Soul,
Though bound to Earth by ties of pity and love,
From all injurious servitude was free.

The Sun, before his place of rest were reached, Had yet to travel far, but unto us,

To us who stood low in that hollow Dell,

He had become invisible,

a pomp

Leaving behind of yellow radiance spread
Upon the mountain sides, in contrast bold
With ample shadows, seemingly, no less
Than those resplendent lights, his rich bequest,
A dispensation of his evening power.

Adown the path that from the Glen had led The funeral Train, the Shepherd and his Mate

Were seen descending ; — forth to greet them ran

Our little Page; the rustic Pair approach;

And in the Matron's aspect may be read
A plain assurance that the words which told
How that neglected Pensioner was sent
Before his time into a quiet grave,

Had done to her humanity no wrong:

But we are kindly welcomed-promptly served
With ostentatious zeal. Along the floor
Of the small Cottage in the lonely Dell

A grateful Couch was spread for our repose;
Where, in the guise of Mountaineers, we slept,
Stretched upon fragrant heath, and lulled by sound
Of far-off Torrents charming the still night,
And to tired limbs and over-busy thoughts
Inviting sleep and soft forgetfulness.

END OF THE FOURTH BOOK.

THE EXCURSION.

BOOK V.

THE PASTOR.