Foreseen, had dared to couple, even in thought,
The fine Vocation of the sword and lance
With the gross aims and body-bending toil
Of a poor Brotherhood who walk the earth
Pitied, and where they are not known, despised.
- Yet, by the good Knight's leave, the two Estates
Are graced with some resemblance. Errant Those,
Exiles and Wanderers and the like are These;

Who, with their burthen, traverse hill and dale,
Carrying relief for Nature's simple wants.

What though no higher recompense they seek
Than honest maintenance, by irksome toil
Full oft procured, yet Such may claim respect,
Among the Intelligent, for what this course
Enables them to be, and to perform.

Their tardy steps give leisure to observe,
While solitude permits the mind to feel;
Instructs and prompts her to supply defects
By the division of her inward self,
For grateful converse: and to these poor Men
(As I have heard you boast with honest pride)
Nature is bountiful, where'er they go;

Kind Nature's various wealth is all their own.
Versed in the characters of men; and bound,
By tie of daily interest, to maintain

Conciliatory manners and smooth speech;
Such have been, and still are in their degree,
Examples efficacious to refine

Rude intercourse; apt Agents to expel,
By importation of unlooked-for Arts,
Barbarian torpor, and blind prejudice;
Raising, through just gradation, savage life
To rustic, and the rustic to urbane.

Within their moving magazines is lodged
Power that comes forth to quicken and exalt
Affections seated in the Mother's breast,
And in the Lover's fancy; and to feed
The sober sympathies of long-tried Friends.

By these Itinerants, as experienced Men,
Counsel is given; contention they appease
With gentle language; in remotest Wilds,
Tears wipe away, and pleasant tidings bring;
Could the proud quest of Chivalry do more?"

"Happy," rejoined the Wanderer, "they who gain A panegyric from your generous tongue! But, if to these Wayfarers once pertained Aught of romantic interest, 'tis gone; Their purer service, in this realm at least, Is past for ever. - An inventive Age

Has wrought, if not with speed of magic, yet
To most strange issues. I have lived to mark
A new and unforeseen Creation rise

From out the labours of a peaceful Land,
Wielding her potent Enginery to frame
And to produce, with appetite as keen
As that of War, which rests not night or day,
Industrious to destroy! With fruitless pains
Might one like me now visit many a tract
Which, in his youth, he trod, and trod again,
A lone Pedestrian with a scanty freight,
Wished for, or welcome, wheresoe'er he came,
Among the Tenantry of Thorpe and Vill;
Or straggling Burgh, of ancient charter proud,
And dignified by battlements and towers
Of some stern Castle, mouldering on the brow
Of a green hill or bank of rugged stream.
The foot-path faintly marked, the horse-track wild,
And formidable length of plashy lane,

(Prized avenues ere others had been shaped
Or easier links connecting place with place)
Have vanished, swallowed up by stately roads.

Easy and bold, that penetrate the gloom

Of Britain's farthest Glens. The Earth has lent Her waters, Air her breezes; and the Sail

Of traffic glides with ceaseless interchange,
Glistening along the low and woody dale,
Or on the naked mountain's lofty side.
Meanwhile, at social Industry's command,

How quick, how vast an increase! From the germ
Of some poor Hamlet, rapidly produced

Here a huge Town, continuous and compact,

Hiding the face of earth for leagues — and there,

Where not a Habitation stood before,

Abodes of men irregularly massed

Like trees in forests - spread through spacious tracts,
O'er which the smoke of unremitting fires
Hangs permanent, and plentiful as wreaths
Of vapour glittering in the morning sun.
And, wheresoe'er the Traveller turns his steps,
He sees the barren wilderness erased,
Or disappearing; triumph that proclaims
How much the mild Directress of the plough

Owes to alliance with these new-born Arts!

Hence is the wide Sea peopled,—hence the Shores Of Britain are resorted to by Ships

Freighted from every climate of the world

With the world's choicest produce. Hence that sum
Of Keels that rest within her crowded ports,
Or ride at anchor in her sounds and bays;

That animating spectacle of Sails

Which, through her inland regions, to and fro
Pass with the respirations of the tide,

Perpetual, multitudinous! Finally,

Hence a dread arm of floating Power, a voice
Of Thunder daunting those who would approach
With hostile purposes the blessed Isle,
Truth's consecrated residence, the seat
Impregnable of Liberty and Peace.

And yet, O happy Pastor of a Flock
Faithfully watched, and, by that loving care
And Heaven's good providence, preserved from taint!
With You I grieve, when on the darker side

Of this great change I look; and there behold,
Such outrage done to Nature as compels

The indignant Power to justify herself;

Yea, to avenge her violated rights,

For England's bane.-When soothing darkness spreads
O'er hill and vale," the Wanderer thus expressed
His recollections, " and the punctual stars,

While all things else are gathering to their homes,
Advance, and in the firmament of heaven
Glitter- but undisturbing, undisturbed;
As if their silent company were charged