Till his eye streamed with tears. In this deep vale

At once, with rash disdain he turned away,

An emblem of his own unfruitful life:

The beauty still more beauteous. Nor, that time,

Who, in the silent hour of inward thought,

The world, and man himself, appeared a scene

And lifting up his head, he then would gaze

Is littleness; that he, who feels contempt

Fixing his downward eye, he many an hour

Of dissolute tongues, gainst jealousy, and hate,

The wihttps://read.99csw.comse man to that scorn which wisdom holds

That break against the shore, shall lull thy mind

--Who he was

That piled these stones, and with the mossy sod

No sparkling rivulet spread the verdant herb;

All but neglect: and so, his spirit damped

On visionary views would fancy feed,

And big with lofty views, he to the world

He died, this sea九*九*藏*書t his only monument.

With mournful joy, to think that others felt

What he must never feel: and so, lost man!

No common soul. In youth, by genius nursd,

Which he has never used; that thought with him

Howeer disguised in its own majesty,

The stone-chat, or the glancing sand-piper;

By one soft impulse saved from vacancy.

Instructed that true knowledge leads to love,

In lowliness of heart.

For any living thing, hath faculties

--Nay, Traveller! rest. Thiread.99csw.coms lonely yew-tree stands

True dignity abides with him alone

Unlawful, ever. O, be wiser thou!

And heath, and thistle, thinly sprinkled oer,

Far lovelier, and his heart could not sustain

What if these barren boughs the bee not loves;

Far from all human dwelling: what if here

Warm from the labours of benevolence,

Yet, if the wind breathe soft, the curling waves,

And scorn, against all enemies prepared,

First covered oer, and taught this aged tree,

Hisread.99csw.com only visitants a straggling sheep,

Now wild, to bend its arms in circling shade,

A morbid pleasure nourished, tracing here

Can still suspect, and still revere himself,

Of young imagination have kept pure,

I well remember.--He was one who ownd

On the more distant scene; how lovely tis

Had charms for him; and here he loved to sit,

Is in its infancy. The man, whose eye

And with the food of pride sustained his soul

Of kindred loveliness: then he would sigh

Stra九九藏書nger! henceforth be warned; and know, that pride,

Would he forget those beings, to whose minds,

And on these barren rocks, with juniper,

Is ever on himself, doth look on one,

In solitude.--Stranger! these gloomy boughs

Thou seest, and he would gaze till it became

The least of natures works, one who might move

If thou be one whose heart the holy forms

ON A DESOLATE PART OF THE SHORE, YET COMMANDING ABEAUTIFUL PROSPECT.

Went forth, pure in his heart, against the taint