fitted who would bless 55
A happy hour with holier happiness.

VIII

He serves the Muses erringly and ill,
Whose aim is pleasure light and fugitive:
O, that my mind were equal to fulfil
The comprehensive mandate which they give-- 60
Vain aspiration of an earnest will!
Yet in this moral Strain a power may live,
Beloved Wife! such solace to impart
As it hath yielded to thy tender heart.

RYDAL MOUNT, WESTMORELAND,
_April 20, 1815_.

"Action is transitory--a step, a blow, 65
The motion of a muscle--this way or that--
'Tis done; and in the after-vacancy
We wonder at ourselves like men betrayed:
Suffering is permanent, obscure and dark,
And has the nature of infinity. 70
Yet through that darkness (infinite though it seem
And irremovable) gracious openings lie,
By which the soul--with patient steps of thought
Now toiling, wafted now on wings of prayer--
May pass in hope, and, though from mortal bonds 75
Yet undelivered, rise with sure ascent
Even to the fountain-head of peace divine."[E]

"They that deny a God, destroy Man's nobility: for certainly Man
is of kinn to the Beast by his Body; and if he be not of kinn to
God by his Spirit, he is a base ignoble Creature. It destroys
likewise Magnanimity, and the raising of humane Nature: for take
an example of a Dogg, and mark what a generosity and courage he
will put on, when he finds himself maintained by a Man, who to him
is instead of a God, or Melior Natura. Which courage is manifestly
such, as that Creature without that confidence of a better Nature
than his own could never attain. So Man, when he resteth and
assureth himself upon Divine protection and favour, gathereth a
force and faith which human Nature in itself could not obtain."

LORD BACON.[F]

CANTO FIRST

From Bolton's old monastic tower[G]
The bells ring loud with gladsome power;
The sun shines[3] bright; the fields are gay
With people in their best array
Of stole and doublet, hood and scarf, 5
Along the banks of crystal Wharf,[4]
Through the Vale retired and lowly,
Trooping to that summons holy.
And, up among the moorlands, see
What sprinklings of blithe company!