No More Learning

He, all superior but his God disdained, 435
Walked none restraining, and by none restrained:
Confessed no law but what his reason taught,
Did all he wished, and wished but what he ought.
As man in his primeval dower arrayed
The image of his glorious Sire displayed, 440
Even so, by faithful [115] Nature guarded, here
The traces of primeval Man appear;
The simple [116] dignity no forms debase;
The eye sublime, and surly lion-grace:
The slave of none, of beasts alone the lord, 445
His book he prizes, nor neglects his sword; [117]
--Well taught by that to feel his rights, prepared
With this "the blessings he enjoys to guard. " [X]

And, as his native hills encircle ground
For many a marvellous [118] victory renowned, 450
The work of Freedom daring to oppose,
With few in arms, [Y] innumerable foes,
When to those famous [119] fields his steps are led,
An unknown power connects him with the dead:
For images of other worlds are there; 455
Awful the light, and holy is the air.
Fitfully, and in flashes, through his soul,
Like sun-lit tempests, troubled transports roll;
His bosom heaves, his Spirit towers amain, [120]
Beyond the senses and their little reign. 460

And oft, when that dread vision hath past by, [121]
He holds with God himself communion high,
There where the peal [122] of swelling torrents fills
The sky-roofed temple of the eternal hills;
Or, when upon the mountain's silent brow 465
Reclined, he sees, above him and below,
Bright stars of ice and azure fields of snow;
While needle peaks of granite shooting bare
Tremble in ever-varying tints of air.
And when a gathering weight of shadows brown 470
Falls on the valleys as the sun goes down;
And Pikes, of darkness named and fear and storms, [Z]
Uplift in quiet their illumined forms, [123]
In sea-like reach of prospect round him spread,
Tinged like an angel's smile all rosy red-- 475
Awe in his breast with holiest love unites,
And the near heavens impart their own delights. [124]

When downward to his winter hut he goes,
Dear and more dear the lessening circle grows;
That hut which on the hills so oft employs 480
His thoughts, the central point of all his joys. [125]
And as a swallow, at the hour of rest,
Peeps often ere she darts into her nest,
So to the homestead, where the grandsire tends
A little prattling child, he oft descends, 485
To glance a look upon the well-matched pair; [126]
Till storm and driving ice blockade him there.
There, [127] safely guarded by the woods behind,
He hears the chiding of the baffled wind,
Hears Winter calling all his terrors round, 490
And, blest within himself, he shrinks not from the sound. [128]

Through Nature's vale his homely pleasures glide,
Unstained by envy, discontent, and pride;
The bound of all his vanity, to deck,
With one bright bell, a favourite heifer's neck; 495
Well pleased [129] upon some simple annual feast,
Remembered half the year and hoped the rest,
If dairy-produce, from his inner hoard,
Of thrice ten summers dignify [130] the board.
--Alas! in every clime a flying ray 500
Is all we have to cheer our wintry way;
[131]
And here the unwilling mind [132] may more than trace
The general sorrows of the human race:
The churlish gales of penury, that blow
Cold as the north-wind o'er a waste of snow, [133] 505
To them [134] the gentle groups of bliss deny
That on the noon-day bank of leisure lie.
Yet more;--compelled by Powers which only deign
That _solitary_ man disturb their reign,
Powers that support an unremitting [135] strife 510
With all the tender charities of life,
Full oft the father, when his sons have grown
To manhood, seems their title to disown; [136]
And from his nest [137] amid the storms of heaven
Drives, eagle-like, those sons as he was driven; 515
With stern composure [138] watches to the plain--
And never, eagle-like, beholds again!

When long familiar joys are all resigned,
Why does their sad remembrance haunt the mind? [139]
Lo!
where through flat Batavia's willowy groves, 520
Or by the lazy Seine, the exile roves;
O'er the curled waters Alpine measures swell,
And search the affections to their inmost cell;
Sweet poison spreads along the listener's veins,
Turning past pleasures into mortal pains; [140] 525
Poison, which not a frame of steel can brave,
Bows his young head with sorrow to the grave. [Aa]

Gay lark of hope, thy silent song resume!
Ye flattering eastern lights, once more the hills illume! [141]
Fresh [142] gales and dews of life's delicious morn, 530
And thou, lost fragrance of the heart, return!
Alas! the little joy to man allowed,
Fades like the lustre of an evening cloud; [143]
Or like the beauty in a flower installed,
Whose season was, and cannot be recalled. 535
Yet, when opprest by sickness, grief, or care,
And taught that pain is pleasure's natural heir,
We still confide in more than we can know;
Death would be else the favourite friend of woe. [144]

'Mid savage rocks, and seas of snow that shine, 540
Between interminable tracts of pine,
Within a temple stands an awful shrine, [145]
By an uncertain light revealed, that falls
On the mute Image and the troubled walls.
Oh! give not me that eye of hard disdain 545
That views, undimmed, Ensiedlen's [Bb] wretched fane.
While ghastly faces through the gloom appear, [146]
Abortive joy, and hope that works in fear; [147]
While prayer contends with silenced agony, [148]
Surely in other thoughts contempt may die. 550
If the sad grave of human ignorance bear
One flower of hope--oh, pass and leave it there! [Cc]

The tall sun, pausing [149] on an Alpine spire,
Flings o'er the wilderness a stream of fire:
Now meet we other pilgrims ere the day [150] 555
Close on the remnant of their weary way;
While they are drawing toward the sacred floor
Where, so they fondly think, the worm shall gnaw no more. [151]
How gaily murmur and how sweetly taste
The fountains [Dd] reared for them [152] amid the waste! 560
Their thirst they slake:--they wash their toil-worn feet,
And some with tears of joy each other greet. [153]
Yes, I must [154] see you when ye first behold
Those holy turrets tipped with evening gold,
In that glad moment will for you a sigh 565
Be heaved, of charitable sympathy; [155]
In that glad moment when your [156] hands are prest
In mute devotion on the thankful breast!