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“Supplication to man may diffuse itself | cial lustre. How far more truly, and how far through many topics of persuasion; but sup-more sublimely, doe's Milton, “ that mighty orb plication to God can only cry for mercy.” of song," speak of his own divine gift-the And in that cry we say that there may be gift of Poetry ! « These abilities are the inpoetry; for the God of Mercy suffers his crea- spired gift of God, rarely bestowed, and are of tures to approach his throne in supplication, power to inbreed and cherish in a great people with words which they have learned when the seeds of virtue and public civility ; to allay supplicating one another; and the feeling of the perturbation of the mind, and set the affecbeing forgiven, which we are graciously per- tions to a right tune; to celebrate in glorious mitted to believe may follow supplication, and lofty hymns the throne and equipage of and spring from it, may vent itself in many God's Almightiness, and what he suffers to be various and most affecting forms of speech. wrought with high providence in his Church; Men will supplicate God in many other words to sing victorious agonies of Martyrs and besides those of doubt and of despair; hope Saints, the deeds and triumphs of just and will mingle with prayer; and hope, as it glows, pious nations, doing valiantly through faith and burns, and expands, will speak in poetry against the enemies of Christ; to deplore the -else poetry there is none proceeding from general relapse of kingdoms and states from any of our most sacred passions.

virtue and God's true worship. Lastly, whatDr. Johnson says, “Of sentiments purely soever in religion is holy and sublime, and in religious, it will be found that the most simple virtue amiable or grave; whatsoever hath expression is the most sublime. Poetry loses passion, or admiration in all the changes of its lustre and its power, because it is applied that which is called fortune from without, or to the decoration of something more excellent the wily subtleties and reflexions of men's than itself.” Here he had in his mind the thoughts from within ; all these things, with a most false notions of poetry, which he had solid and treatable smoothness, to paint out evidently imagined to be an art despising sim- and describe-Teaching over the whole book plicity-whereas simplicity is its very soul. of morality and virtue, through all instances Simple expression, he truly says, is in religion of example, with such delight to those, espemost sublime—and why should not poetry becially of soft and delicious temper, who will simple in its expression? Is it not always so not so much as look upon Truth herself unless -when the mood of mind it expresses is sim- they see her elegantly dressed; that, whereas ple, concise, and strong, and collected into one the paths of honesty and good life that appear great emotion ? But he uses—as we see—the now rugged and difficult, appear to all men terms “lustre" and "decoration”-as if poetry easy and pleasant, though they were rugged necessarily, by its very nature, was always and difficult indeed.” ambitious and ornate; whereas we all know, It is not easy to believe that no great broad that it is often in all its glory direct and simple lights have been thrown on the mysteries of as the language of very childhood, and for that men's minds since the days of the great poets, reason sublime.

moralists, and metaphysicians of the ancient With such false notions of poetry, it is not world. We seem to feel more profoundly than to be wondered at that Dr. Johnson, enlight-they-to see, as it were, into a new world. ened man as he was, should have concluded The things of that world are of such surpasshis argument with this absurdity—“The ideas ing worth, that in certain awe-struck moods of Christian theology are too simple for elo- we regard them as almost above the province quence, too sacred for fiction, and too majestic of Poetry. Since the revelation of Chrisfor ornament; to recommend them by tropes tianity, all moral thought has been sanctified and figures, is to magnify by a concave mirror by Religion. Religion has given it a purity, a the sidereal hemisphere." No. Simple as solemnity, a sublimity, which, even among the they are-on them have been bestowed, and by noblest of the heathen, we shall look for in them awakened, the highest strains of elo- vain. The knowledge that shone but by fits quence--and here we hail the shade of Jeremy and dimly on the eyes of Socrates and Plato, Taylor alone-one of the highest that ever “that rolled in vain to find the light,” has desoared from earth to heaven; sacred as they scended over many lands into “the huts where are, they have not been desecrated by the fic- poor men lie”—and thoughts are familiar there, tions—so to call them—of John Milton; ma- beneath the low and smoky roofs,' higher far jestic as are the heavens, their majesty has than ever flowed from the lips of Grecian sage not been lowered by the ornaments that the meditating among the magnificence of his pilrich genius of the old English divines has so lared temples. The whole condition and chaprofusely hung around them, like dewdrops racter of the Human Being, in Christian glistening on the fruitage of the Tree of Life. countries, has been raised up to a loftier eleTropes and figures are nowhere more nu- vation; and he may be looked at in the face merous and refulgent than in the Scriptures without a sense of degradation, even when he themselves, from Isaiah to St. John; and, mag- wears the aspect of poverty and distress. nificent as are the “sidereal heavens" when Since that Religion was given us, and not the eye looks aloft, they are not to our eyes before, has been felt the meaning of that subless so, nor less lovely, when reflected in the lime expression-The Brotherhood of Man. bosom of a still lake or the slumbering ocean. Yet it is just as true, that there is as much

This statement of facts destroys at once all misery and suffering in Christendom-nay, Dr. Johnson's splendid sophistry-splendid at far more of them all-than troubled and tore first sight-but on closer inspection a mere men's hearts during the reign of all those su. naze, mist, or smoke, illuminated by an artifi- perstitions and idolatries. But with what dif. ferent feelings is it all thought of-spoken of -- curb of critical control? If Religion be indeed looked at--alleviated -repented—expiated-all-in-all, and there are few who openly deny atoned for-now? In the olden time, such it, must we, nevertheless, deal with it only in was the prostration of the “million,” that it illusion--hint it as if we were half afraid of its was only when seen in high places that even spirit, half ashamed-and cunningly contrive Guilt and Sin were felt to be appalling ;-Re- to save our credit as Christians, without submorse was the privilege of Kings and Princes jecting ourselves to the condemnation of —and the Furies shook their scourges but be- critics, whose scorn, even in this enlightened fore the eyes of the high-born, whose crimes age, has the more is the pity—even by men had brought eclipse across the ancestral conscious of their genius and virtue, been glories of some ancient line.

feared as more fatal than death? But we now know that there is but one No: let there be no compromise between origin from which flow all disastrous issues, false taste and true Religion. Better to be alike to the king and the beggar. It is sin condemned by all the periodical publications that does “with the lofty equalize the low;" in Great Britain than your own conscience. and the same deep-felt community of guilt and Let the dunce, with diseased spleen, who edits groans which renders Religion awful, has one obscure Review, revile and rail at you to given to poetry in a lower degree something his heart's discontent, in hollow league with of the same character-has made it far more his black-biled brother, who, sickened by your profoundly tender, more overpoweringly pa- success, has long laboured in vain to edit anthetic, more humane and thoughtful far, more other, still more unpublishable-but do you humble as well as more high, like Christian hold the even tenor of your way, assured that Charity more comprehensive; nay, we may the beauty which nature, and the Lord of nasay, like Christian Faith, felt by those to whom ture, have revealed to your eyes and your it is given to be from on high; and if not heart, when sown abroad will not be suffered utterly destroyed, darkened and miserably to perish, but will have everlasting life. Your weakened by a wicked or vicious life.

books-humble and unpretending though they We may affirm, then, that as human nature be-yet here and there a page, not uninspired has been so greatly purified and elevated by by the spirit of Truth, and Faith, and Hope, the Christian Religion, Poetry, which deals with and Charity--that is, by Religion-will be held human nature in all its dearest and most inti- up before the ingle light, close to the eyes of mate concerns, must have partaken of that the pious patriarch, sitting with his children's purity and that elevation-and that it may children round his knees-nor will any one now be a far holier and more sacred inspira- sentiment, chastened by that fire that tempers tion, than when it was fabled to be the gift of the sacred links that bind together the brotherApollo and the Muses. We may not circum- hood of man, escape the solemn search of a scribe its sphere. To what cerulean heights soul, simple and strong in its Bible-taught shall not the wing of Poetry soar? Into what wisdom, and happy to feel and own commudungeon-gloom shall she not descend? If such nion of holy thought with one unknownbe her powers and privileges, shall she not be even perhaps by name--who although dead the servant and minister of Religion ?

yet speaketh-and, without superstition, is If from moral fictions of life Religion be numbered among the saints of that lowly altogether excluded, then it would indeed be a household. waste of words to show that they must be He who knows that he writes in the rear of worse than worthless. They must be, not God and in the love of man, will not arrest imperfect merely, but false, and not false the thoughts that flow from his pen, because merely, but calumnious against human nature. he knows that they may-will be-insulted The agonies of passion fling men down to the and profaned by the name of cant, and he dust on their knees, or smite them motionless himself held up as a hypocrite.

In some as stone statues, sitting alone in their darken- hands, ridicule is indeed a terrible weapon. It ed chambers of despair. But sooner or later, is terrible in the hands of indignant genius, all eyes, all hearts look for comfort to God. branding the audacious forehead of falsehood The coldest metaphysical analyst could not or pollution. But ridicule in the hands either avoid that, in his sage enumeration of “each of cold-blooded or infuriated Malice, is harmparticular hair” that is twisted and untwisted less as a birch-rod in the palsied fingers of a by him into a sort of moral tie; and surely the superannuated beldam, who in her blear-eyed impassioned and philosophical poet will not, dotage has lost her school. The Bird of Paradare not, for the spirit that is within him, ex-dise might float in the sunshine unharmed all clude that from his elegies, his hymns, and his its beautiful life long, although all the sportssongs, which, whether mournful or exulting, men of Cockaigne were to keep firing at the are inspired by the life-long, life-deep convic-star-like plumage during the Christmas holytion, that all the greatness of the present is but days of a thousand years. for the future that the praises of this passing We never are disposed not to enjoy a reliearth are worthy of his lyre, only because it is gious spirit in metrical composition, but when overshadowed by the eternal heavens.

induced to suspect that it is not sincere; and But though the total exclusion of Religion then we turn away from the hypocrite, just as from Poetry aspiring to be a picture of the life we do from a pious pretender in the intercourse or soul of man, be manifestly destructive of of life. Shocking it is indeed, to see “fools its very essence-how, it may be asked, shall rush in where angels fear to tread ;” nor have we set bounds to this spirit-how shall we we words to express our disgust and horror at limit it-measure it—and accustom it to the the sight of frols, not rushing in among those



awful sanctities before which angels vail their before it passes away, provided it be left free faces with their wings, but mincing in, with to seek the empyrean, and not adstricted to the red slippers and flowered dressing-gowns- glebe by some severe slavery of condition, would-be fashionables, with crow-quills in which destroys the desire of ascent by the same hands like those of milliners, and rings on inexorable laws that palsy the power, and retheir fingers-afterwards extending their notes concile the toilers to the doom of the dust. If into Sacred Poems for the use of the public, all the states of being that poetry illustrates penny-a-liners, reporting the judgments of Pro- do thus tend, of their own accord, towards revidence as they would the proceedings in a ligious elevation, all high poetry must be repolice court.

ligious; and so it is, for its whole language is breathing of a life " above the smoke and stir

of this dim spot which men call earth;" and CHAPTER II.

the feelings, impulses, motives, aspirations,

obligations, duties, privileges, which it shaThe distinctive character of poetry, it has dows forth or imbodies, enveloping them in been said, and credited almost universally, is solemn shade or attractive light, are all, dito please. That they who have studied the laws rectly or indirectly, manifestly or secretly, of thought and passion should have suffered allied with the sense of the immortality of the themselves to be deluded by an unmeaning soul, and the belief of a future state of reward word is mortifying enough; but it is more than and retribution. Extinguish that sense and mortifying--it perplexes and confounds to that belief in a poet's soul, and he may hang think that poets themselves, and poets too of up his harp. the highest order, have declared the same de- Among the great living poets Wordsworth grading belief of what is the scope and tenden- is the one whose poetry is to us the most inexcy, the end and aim of their own divine art, plicable with all our reverence for his transforsooth, to please! Pleasure is no more the cendent genius, we do not fear to say the most end of poetry than it is the end of knowledge, open to the most serious charges on the score or of virtue, or of religion, or of this world. of its religion. From the first line of the Lyrical The end of poetry is pleasure, delight, instruc- Ballads to the last of the “Excursion"--it is tion, expansion, elevation, honour, glory, hap- avowedly one system of thought and feeling, piness here and hereafter, or it is nothing. Is embracing his experiences of human life, and the end of Paradise Lost to please? Is the his meditations on the moral government of end of Dante's Divine Comedy to please? Is this world. The human heart--the human the end of the Psalms of David to please? Or mind—the human soul to use his own fine of the songs of Isaiah? Yet it is probable that words-is “the haunt and main region of his poetry has often been injured or vitiated by song." There are few, perhaps none of our having been written in the spirit of this creed. affections using that term in its largest sense It relieved poets from the burden of their duty --which have not been either slightly touched --from the responsibility of their endowments upon, or fully treated, by Wordsworth. In his —from the conscience that is in genius. We poetry, therefore, we behold an image of what, suspect that this doctrine has borne especially to his eye, appears to be human life. Is there, hard on all sacred poetry, disinclined poets to de- or is there not, some great and lamentable devoting their genius to it and consigned, if not to fect in that image, marring both the truth and oblivion, to neglect, much of what is great in that beauty of the representation? We think there magnificent walk. Forif the masters of the Holy is—and that it lies in his Religion. Harp are to strike it but to please-if their high In none of Wordsworth's poetry, previous to inspirations are to be deadened and dragged his “Excursion," is there any allusion made, down by the prevalent power of such a mean except of the most trivial and transient kind, and unworthy aim--they will either be contented to Revealed Religion. He certainly cannot be to awaken a few touching tones of“ those strains called a Christian poet. The hopes that lie that once did sweet in Zion glide”–unwilling to beyond the grave and the many holy and prolong and deepen them into the diapason of awful feelings in which on earth these hopes praise—or they will deposit their lyre within the are enshrined and fed, are rarely if ever part gloom of the sanctuary, and leave unawakened of the character of any of the persons-male “the soul of music sleeping on its strings.”. or female-old or young-brought before us

All arguments, or rather objections to sacred in his beautiful Pastorals. Yet all the most poetry, dissolve as you internally look at them, interesting and affecting ongoings of this life like unabiding mist-shapes, or rather like ima- are exquisitely delineated-and innumerable gined mirage where no mirage is, but the mind of course are the occasions on which, had the itself makes ocular deceptions for its own thoughts and feelings of revealed religion been amusement. By sacred poetry, is mostly meant in Wordsworth's heart during the hours of inScriptural; but there are, and always have spiration-and he often has written like a been conceited and callous critics, who would man inspired—they must have found expresexclude all religious feelings from poetry, and sion in his strains; and the personages, humindeed from prose too, compendiously calling ble or high, that figure in his representations, them all cant. Had such criticasters been would have been in their joys or their sorrows, right, all great nations would not have so their temptations and their trials, Christians. gloried in their great bards. Poetry, it is clear, But most assuredly this is 'not the case; the embraces all we can experience; and every religion of this great Poet-in all his poetry high, impassioned, imaginative, intellectual, published previous to the “Excursion"--is but and moral state of being becomes religious the “Religion of the Woods.”

In the “Excursion,” his religion is brought and a very noble eulogy on the Church Estaforward-prominently and conspicuously-in blishment in England. How happened it that many elaborate dialogues between Priest, Ped- he who pronounced such eloquent panegyric lar, Poet, and Solitary. And a very high re- that they who so devoutly inclined their ear ligion it often is; but is it Christianity? No to imbibe it-should have been all contented - it is not. There are glimpses given of some with of the Christian doctrines; just as if the va- “That basis laid, these principles of faith rious philosophical disquisitions, in which the Announced," Poem abounds, would be imperfect without and yet throughout the whole course of their some allusion to the Christian creed. The in- discussions, before and after, have forgotten terlocutors-eloquent as they all are--say but apparently that there was either Christianity little on that theme; nor do they show-if we

or a Christian Church in the world ? except the Priest-much interest in itmany

We do not hesitate to say, that the thoughtsolicitude; they may all, for any thing that ful and sincere student of this great poet's appears to the contrary, be deists.

works, must regard such omission--such inNow, perhaps, it may be said that Words- consistency or contradiction-with more than worth was deterred from entering on such a the pain of regret; for there is no relief theme by the awe of his spirit. But there is afforded to our defrauded hearts from any no appearance of this having been the case in quarter to which we can look. A pledge has any one single passage in the whole poem. Nor been given, that all the powers and privileges could it have been the case with such a man of a Christian poet shall be put forth and ex-a man privileged, by the power God has be- ercised for our behoof-for our delight and stowed upon him, to speak unto all the nations instruction; all other poetry is to sink away of the earth, on all themes, however high and before the heavenly splendour; Urania, or a holy, which the children of men can feel and greater muse, is invoked; and after all this understand. Christianity, during almost all solemn, and more than solemn preparation their disquisitions, lay in the way of all the made for our initiation into the mysteries, we speakers, as they kept journeying among the are put off with a well-merited encomium on hills.

the Church of England, from Bishop to Curate “On man, on nature, and on human life,

inclusive; and though we have much fine Musing in Solitude !"

poetry, and some high philosophy, it would But they, one and all, either did not perceive puzzle the most ingenious to detect much, or it, or, perceiving it, looked upon it with a cold any, Christian religion. and indifferent regard, and passed by into the Should the opinion boldly avowed be chalpoetry breathing from the dewy woods, or lenged, we shall enter into further exposition lowering from the cloudy skies. Their talk is and illustration of it; meanwhile, we confine of “ Palmyra central, in the desert,” rather than ourselves to some remarks on one of the most of Jerusalem. On the mythology of the Hea- elaborate tales of domestic suffering in the then much beautiful poetry is bestowed, but Excursion. In the story of Margaret, containnone on the theology of the Christian.

ing, we believe, more than four hundred lines Yet there is no subject too high for Words- -a tolerably long poem in itself--though the worth's muse. In the preface to the “ Excur- whole and entire state of a poor deserted wife sion,” he says daringly-we fear too dar- and mother's heart, for year after year of ingly,-

“hope deferred, that maketh the heart sick,":

is described, or rather dissected, with an almost “Urania, I shall need Thy guidance, or a greater muse, if such

cruel anatomy--not one quivering fibre being Descend to earth, or dwell in highest heaven! left unexposed--all the fluctuating, and finally For I must tread on shadowy ground, must sink Deep--and aloft ascending, breathe in worlds

all the constant agitations laid bare and naked To which the heaven of heavens is but a veil, that carried her at last lingeringly to the grave All strength-all terror-single or in bands,

--there is not except one or two weak lines, That ever was put forth in personal form, Jehovah with his thunder, and the choir

that seem to have been afterwards purposely Of shouting angels, and the empyreal thrones; dropped in-one single syllable about ReI pass them unalarm'd!"

ligion. Was Margaret a Christian ?--Let the Has the poet, who believes himself entitled answer be yes-as good a Christian as ever to speak thus of the power and province given kneeled in the small mountain chapel, in to him to put forth and to possess, spoken in whose churchyard her body now waits for the consonance with such a strain, by avoiding, resurrection. If she was-then the picture in part of the very work to which he so tri- painted of her and her agonies, is a libel not umphantly appeals, the Christian Revelation? only on her character, but on the character of Nothing could have reconciled us to a burst all other poor Christian women in this Chrisof such-audacity-we use the word consider- tian land. Placed as she was, for so many ately—but the exhibition of a spirit divinely years, in the clutches of so many passions-embued with the Christian faith. For what she surely must have turned sometimesmay, else, we ask, but the truths beheld by the often, and often, and often, else had she sooner Christian Faith, can be beyond those “person- left the clay--towards her Lord and Saviour. al forms," " beyond Jehovah," “ the choirs of But of such “comfort let no man speak, shouting angels," and the “empyreal thrones ?" seems to have been the principle of Mr. Words

This omission is felt the more deeply-worth ; and the consequence is, that this, perthe more sadly-from such introduction as haps the most elaborate picture he ever painted there is of Christianity; for one of the books of any conflict within any one human heart, is, of the “Excursion” begins with a very long, with all its pathos, repulsive to very religious

That he was often seated at his loom

mind-that being wanting without which the Her temper had been framed, as if to make entire representation is vitiated, and necessari

A Being who, by adding love to fear,

Might live on earth a life of happiness, ly false to nature-to virtue-to resignation Her wedded partner lack'd not on his side to life-and to death. These may seem strong

The humble worth that satisfied her heart words--but we are ready to defend them in the

Frugal, affectionate, sober, and withal

Keenly industrious. She with pride would tell face of all who may venture to impugn their truth.

In summer, ere the mower was abroad This utter absence of Revealed Religion,

Among the dewy grass-in early spring,

Ere the last star had vanish'd. They who pass'd where it ought to have been all-in-all-for in At evening, from behind the garden fence such trials in real life it is all-in-all, or we

Might hear his busy spade, which he would ply

After his daily work, until the light regard the existence of sin or sorrow with re- Had fail'd, and every leaf and flower were lost pugnance-shocks far deeper feelings within In the dark hedges. So their days were spent us than those of taste, and throws over the

In peace and comfort; and a pretty boy

Was their best hope, next to the God in heaven." whole poem to which the tale of Margaret belongs, an unhappy suspicion of hollowness and We are prepared by that character, so amply insincerity in that poetical religion, which at and beautifully drawn, to pity her to the ut. the best is a sorry substitute indeed for the most demand that may be made on our pitylight that is from heaven. Above all, it flings, to judge her leniently, even if in her desertion as indeed we have intimated, an air of absurdity she finally give way to inordinate and incuraover the orthodox Church-of-Englandism-for ble grief. But we are not prepared to see her once to quote a not inexpressive barbarism of sinking from depth to depth of despair, in wil. Bentham--which every now and then breaks ful abandonment to her anguish, without oftout either in passing compliment-amounting repeated and long-continued passionate prayers to but a bow-or in eloquent laudation, during for support or deliverance from her trouble, to which the poet appears to be prostrate on his the throne of mercy. Alas! it is true that in knees. He speaks nobly of cathedrals, and our happiness our gratitude to God is too often minsters, and so forth, reverendly adorning all more selfish than we think, and that in our the land; but in none—no, not one of the misery it faints or dies. So is it even with the houses of the humble, the hovels of the poor best of us—but surely not all life long-runless into which he takes us-is the religion preached the heart has been utterly crushed-the brain in those cathedrals and minsters, and chanted itself distorted in its functions, by some cain prayer to the pealing organ, represented as lamity, under which nature's self gives way, the power that in peace supports the roof-tree, and falls into ruins like a rent house when the lightens the hearth, and is the guardian, the last prop is withdrawn. tutelary spirit of the lowly dwelling. Can this

“Nine tedious years be right?' Impossible. And when we find the

From their first separation-nine long years Christian religion thus excluded from Poetry,

She linger'd in unquiet widowhood

A wife and widow. Needs must it have been otherwise as good as ever was produced by A sore heart-wasting. human genius, what are we to think of the Poet, and of the world of thought and feeling, ter's hand. But even were it granted that suf

It must indeed, and it is depicted by a masfancy and imagination, in which he breathes, nor fears to declare to all men that he believes ferings, such as hers, might, in the course of himself to be one of the order of the High nature, have extinguished all heavenly comPriests of nature ?

fort--all reliance on God and her Saviour-the Shall it be said, in justification of the poet, process and progress of such fatal relinquishthat he presents a very interesting state of ment should have been shown, with all its mind, sometimes found actually existing, and struggles and all its agonies; if the religion of does not pretend to present a model of virtue ?

-one so good was so unavailing, its weakness that there are miseries which shut some hearts should have been exhibited and explained, that against religion, sensibilities which, being too we might have known assuredly why, in the severely tried, are disinclined, at least at cer- multitude of the thoughts within her, there was tain stages of their suffering to look to that no solace for her sorrow, and how unpitying source for comfort?--that this is human nature, Heaven let her die of grief. and the description only follows it?-that when

This tale, too, is the very first told by the “ in peace and comfort” her best hopes were

Pedlar to the Poet, under circumstances of directed to “the God in heaven," and that her much solemnity, and with affecting note of habit in that respect was only broken up by the preparation. It arises naturally from the sight stroke of her calamity, causing such a derange- of the ruined cottage near which they, by apment of her mental power as should deeply in- pointment, have met; the narrator puts his terest the sympathies ?-in short

, that the poet whole heart into it, and the listener is overis an artist, and that the privation of all com

come by its pathos. No remark is made on fort from religion completes the picture of her Margaret's grief, except that desolation ?

“I turned aside in weakness, nor had power Would that such defence were of avail !

I stood, and leaninde tale which he had told. But of whom does the poet so pathetically Review'd that woman's sufferings; and it seem'd speak?

To comfort me, while, with a brother's love,

I bless'd her in the impotence of grief. " Of one whose stock

Then towards the cottage I return'd, and traced Of virtues bloom'd beneath this lowly roof.

Fondly, though with an interest more mild, She was a woman of a steady mind,

The secret spirit of humanity, Tender and deep in her excess of love;

Which, 'mid the calm, oblivious tendencies Not speaking much-pleased rather with the joy Of nature--'mid her plants, and weeds, and flowers, Of her own thoughts By some especial care

And silent overgrowings, still unrevived."

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