ONE of this mood I do remember well,
In humbler dwelling born, retired, remote ;
In rural quietude, among hills and streams,
And melancholy deserts, where the sun
Saw, as he passed, a shepherd only, here
And there, watching his little flock, or heard
The ploughman talking to his steers; his hopes,
His morning hopes, awoke before him, smiling,
Among the dews and holy mountain airs;
And fancy colour'd them with every hue
Of heavenly loveliness. But soon his dreams
Of childhood fled away; those rainbow dreams
So innocent and fair, that wither'd Age
E'en at the grave, clear'd up his dusty eye,
And passing all between, look'd fondly back
To see them once again, ere he departed;
These fled away, and anxious Thought, that wish'd
To go, yet whither knew not well to go,
Possess'd his soul, and held it still awhile.
He listen'd, heard from far the voice of fame,
Heard and was charm'd; and deep and sudden vow
Of resolution made to be renew'd;
And deeper vow'd again to keep his vow.
His parents saw-his parents whom God made
Of kindest heart-saw, and indulged his hope.
The ancient page he turn'd, read much, thought
And with old bards of honourable name
Measured his soul severely; and look'd up
To fame, ambitious of no second place.
Hope grew from inward faith, and promised fair,
And out before him opened many a path,
Ascending where the laurel highest waved
Her branch of endless green. He stood admiring;
But stood, admired, not long. The harp he seized -
The harp he loved, loved better than his life—
The harp which utter'd deepest notes, and held
The ear of Thought a captive to his song.
He search'd and meditated much, and whiles,
With rapturous hand, in secret touch'd the lyre,
Aiming at glorious strains; and search'd again
For theme deserving of immortal verse ;
Chose now, and now refused unsatisfied;
Pleased, then displeased, and hesitating still.
Thus stood his mind, when round him came a cloud
Slowly and heavily it came : a cloud
Of ills we mention not. Enough to say,
"Twas cold and dead impenetrable gloom.
He saw its dark approach, and saw his hopes
One after one, put out, as nearer still
It drew his soul; but fainted not at first,
Fainted not soon.
He knew the lot of man
Was trouble, and prepared to bear the worst;
Endure whate'er should come, without a sigh;
Endure, and drink, e'en to the very dregs,
The bitterest cup that time could measure out :
And, having done, look up, and ask for more.
He call'd Philosophy, and with his heart Reason'd. He call'd Religion, too, but call'd Reluctantly, and therefore was not heard; Ashamed to be o'ermatch'd by earthly woes, He sought and sought, with eye that dimm'd
To find some avenue to light, some place
On which to rest a hope, but sought in vain.
Darker and darker still the darkness grew.
At length he sunk, and Disappointment stood
His only comforter, and mournfully
Told all was past. His interest in life,
In being, ceased: and now he seemed to feel,
And shudder'd as he felt, his powers of mind
Decaying in the spring-time of his day.
The vigorous, weak became; the clear, obscure;
Memory gave up her charge; Decision reel'd;
And from her flight Fancy returned, return'd
Because she found no nourishment abroad.
The blue heavens wither'd; and the moon, and
And all the stars, and the green earth, and morn And evening wither'd; and the eyes and smiles
And faces of all men and women wither'd:
Withered to him: and all the universe,
Like something which had been, appeared; but
Was dead, and mould'ring fast away.
He tried
No more to hope, wish'd to forget his vow,
Wish'd to forget his harp; then ceased to wish.
That was his last. Enjoyment now was done,
He had no hope, no wish, and scarce a fear
Or being sensible, and sensible
Of loss, he as some atom seem'd, which God
Had made superfluously, and needed not
To build creation with; but back again
To nothing threw, and left in the void,
With everlasting sense that once it was.
O! who can tell what days, what nights he spent,
Of tideless, waveless, sailless, shoreless woe !
And who can tell how many, glorious once,
To others and themselves of promise full,
Conducted to this path of human thought,
This wilderness of intellectual death,
Wasted and pined, and vanish'd from the earth,
Leaving no vestige of memorial there!
It was not so with him. When thus he lay,
Forlorn of heart, wither'd and desolate,
As leaf of Autumn, which the wolfish winds
Selecting from its former sisters, chase
Far from its native grove, to lifeless wastes,
And leave it there alone to be forgotten
Eternally, God passed in mercy by,
(His praise be ever new!) and on him breathed.
And bade him live, and put into his hands
A holy harp, into his lips a song,
That roll'd its numbers down the tide of time:
Ambitious now but little to be praised
Of men alone; ambitious most to be
Approved of God, the Judge of all, and have
His name recorded in the book of life.
Christ's Nativity.
WHEN Jordan hush'd his waters still,
And silence slept on Zion's hill ;
When Bethlehem's shepherds through the night
Watch'd o'er their flocks by starry light;
Hark! from the midnight hills around,
A voice of more than mortal sound,
In distant hallelujahs stole,
Wild murmuring o'er the raptured soul
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