Inscriptions

Inscriptions; Supposed to be found in, and near, a hermit’s cell

I

Hast thou seen, with train incessant,
Bubbles gliding under ice,
Bodied forth and evanescent,
No one knows by what device?

Such are thoughts!—a wind-swept meadow
Mimicking a troubled sea—
Such is life;—and death a shadow
From the rock eternity!

II

Inscribed upon a rock

Pause, Traveller! whosoe’er thou be
Whom chance may lead to this retreat,
Where silence yields reluctantly
Even to the fleecy straggler’s bleat;

Give voice to what my hand shall trace,
And fear not lest an idle sound
Of words unsuited to the place,
Disturb its solitude profound.

I saw this Rock, while vernal air
Blew softly o’er the russet heath,
Uphold a Monument as fair
As Church or Abbey furnisheth.

Unsullied did it meet the day,
Like marble white, like ether pure;
As if beneath some hero lay,
Honour’d with costliest sepulture.

My fancy kindled as I gazed;
And, ever as the sun shone forth,
The flatter’d structure glisten’d, blazed,
And seemed the proudest thing on earth.

But Frost had reared the gorgeous Pile
Unsound as those which fortune builds;
To undermine with secret guile,
Sapp’d by the very beam that gilds.

And, while I gazed, with sudden shock
Fell the whole Fabric to the ground;
And naked left this dripping Rock,
With shapeless ruin spread around!

III

Hopes what are they?—Beads of morning
Strung on slender blades of grass;
Or a spider’s web adorning
In a strait and treacherous pass.

What are fears but voices airy?
Whispering harm where harm is not,
And deluding the unwary
Till the fatal bolt is shot!

What is glory?—in the socket
See how dying Tapers fare!
What is pride?—a whizzing rocket
That would emulate a star.

What is friendship?—do not trust her,
Nor the vows which she has made;
Diamonds dart their brightest lustre
From a palsy-shaken head.

What is truth?—a staff rejected;
Duty?—an unwelcome clog;
Joy?—a dazzling moon reflected
In a swamp or watery bog;

Bright, as if through ether steering,
To the Traveller’s eye it shone:
He hath hailed it re-appearing—
And as quickly it is gone;

Gone, as if for ever hidden,
Or misshapen to the sight;
And by sullen weeds forbidden
To resume its native light.

What is youth?—a dancing billow,
Winds behind, and rocks before!
Age?—a drooping, tottering willow
On a flat and lazy shore.

What is peace?—when pain is over,
And love ceases to rebel,
Let the last faint sigh discover
That precedes the passing knell!

IV

near the spring of the hermitage

Troubled long with warring notions,
Long impatient of thy rod,
I resign my soul’s emotions
Unto Thee, mysterious God!

What avails the kindly shelter
Yielded by this craggy rent,
If my spirit toss and welter
On the waves of discontent?

Parching Summer hath no warrant
To consume this crystal well;
Rains, that make each rill a torrent,
Neither sully it nor swell.

Thus dishonouring not her station,
Would my Life present to Thee,
Gracious God, the pure oblation
Of divine Tranquillity!

V

Not seldom, clad in radiant vest,
Deceitfully goes forth the Morn;
Not seldom Evening in the west
Sinks smilingly forsworn.

The smoothest seas will sometimes prove,
To the confiding Bark, untrue;
And, if she trust the stars above,
They can be treacherous too.

The umbrageous Oak, in pomp outspread,
Full oft, when storms the welkin rend,
Draws lightning down upon the head
It promis’d to defend.

But Thou art true, incarnate Lord!
Who didst vouchsafe for man to die;
Thy smile is sure, thy plighted word
No change can falsify!

I bent before thy gracious throne,
And asked for peace with suppliant knee;
And peace was given,—nor peace alone,
But faith, and hope, and extacy!