In dreams, in study, and in ardent thought, Thus was he rear'd; much wanting to assist The growth of intellect, yet gaining more, And every moral feeling of his soul Strengthen'd and braced, by breathing in content The keen, the wholesome air of poverty, And drinking from the well of homely life.
But, from past liberty, and tried restraints, He now was summon'd to select the course Of humble industry that promised best To yield him no unworthy maintenance. Urged by his Mother, he essay'd to teach
A Village-school- but wandering thoughts were then A misery to him; and the Youth resign'd A task he was unable to perform.
That stern yet kindly Spirit, who constrains The Savoyard to quit his naked rocks, The free-born Swiss to leave his narrow vales, (Spirit attach'd to regions mountainous Like their own stedfast clouds) did now impel His restless Mind to look abroad with hope.
An irksome drudgery seems it to plod on, Through hot and dusty ways, or pelting storm, A vagrant Merchant bent beneath his load!
Yet do such Travellers find their own delight; And their hard service, deem'd debasing now, Gained merited respect in simpler times;
When Squire, and Priest, and they who round them dwelt In rustic sequestration — all dependent
Upon the PEDLAR's toil-supplied their wants, Or pleased their fancies, with the wares he brought. Not ignorant was the Youth that still no few Of his adventurous Countrymen were led By perseverance in this Track of life
To competence and ease; - for him it bore Attractions manifold; and this he chose. His Parents on the enterprise bestow'd Their farewell benediction, but with hearts Foreboding evil. From his native hills He wander'd far; much did he see of Men, Their manners, their enjoyments, and pursuits, Their passions, and their feelings; chiefly those Essential and eternal in the heart,
That, mid the simpler forms of rural life, Exist more simple in their elements,
And speak a plainer language. In the woods, A lone Enthusiast, and among the fields, Itinerant in this labour, he had pass'd The better portion of his time; and there
Spontaneously had his affections thriven Amid the bounties of the year, the peace, And liberty of Nature; there he kept In solitude and solitary thought
His mind in a just equipoise of love. Serene it was, unclouded by the cares Of ordinary life; unvex'd, unwarp'd By partial bondage. In his steady course, No piteous revolutions had he felt, No wild varieties of joy and grief. Unoccupied by sorrow of its own,
His heart lay open; and, by Nature tuned And constant disposition of his thoughts To sympathy with Man, he was alive To all that was enjoy'd where'er he went; And all that was endured; for in himself Happy, and quiet in his cheerfulness, He had no painful pressure from without That made him turn aside from wretchedness With coward fears. He could afford to suffer With those whom he saw suffer. Hence it came That in our best experience he was rich, And in the wisdom of our daily life.
For hence, minutely, in his various rounds,
He had observed the progress and decay
Of many minds, of minds and bodies too; The History of many Families;
How they had prosper'd; how they were o'erthrown By passion or mischance; or such misrule
Among the unthinking masters of the earth
As makes the nations groan. - This active course He follow'd till provision for his wants
Had been obtain'd; - the Wanderer then resolved Το pass the remnant of his days - untask'd
With needless services-from hardship free.
His Calling laid aside, he lived at ease:
But still he loved to pace the public roads
And the wild paths; and, by the summer's warmth Invited, often would he leave his home
And journey far, revisiting the scenes That to his memory were most endear'd. -Vigorous in health, of hopeful spirits, undamp'd By worldly-mindedness, or anxious care; Observant, studious, thoughtful, and refresh'd By knowledge gathered up from day to day; - Thus had he lived a long and innocent life.
The Scottish Church, both on himself and those With whom from childhood he grew up, had held The strong hand of her purity; and still
Had watch'd him with an unrelenting eye. This he remember'd in his riper age With gratitude, and reverential thoughts. But by the native vigour of his mind, By his habitual wanderings out of doors, By loneliness, and goodness, and kind works, Whate'er, in docile childhood or in youth, He had imbibed of fear or darker thought Was melted all away: so true was this, That sometimes his religion seem'd to me Self-taught, as of a dreamer in the woods; Who to the model of his own pure heart Shaped his belief as grace divine inspired, Or human reason dictated with awe.
And surely never did there live on earth A Man of kindlier nature. The rough sports And teasing ways of Children vex'd not him; Indulgent listener was he to the tongue Of garrulous age; nor did the sick man's tale, To his fraternal sympathy address'd,
Obtain reluctant hearing.
Such as might suit a rustic sire, prepared For sabbath duties; yet he was a Man
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