Book XIII: Conclusion It was a summer's night, a close warm night, Wan, dull and glaring, with a dripping mist Low-hung and thick that covered all the sky, Half threatening storm and rain; but on we went Unchecked, being full of heart and having faith In our tried pilot. Little could we see Hemmed round on every side with fog and damp, And, after ordinary travellers’ chat With our conductor, silently we sank Each into commerce with his private thoughts: Thus did we breast the ascent, and by myself Was nothing either seen or heard the while Which took me from my musings, save that once The shepherd’s cur did to his own great joy Unearth a hedgehog in the mountain crags Round which he made a barking turbulent. This small adventure, for even such it seemed In that wild place and at the dead of night, Being over and forgotten, on we wound In silence as before. With forehead bent Earthward, as if in opposition set Against an enemy, I panted up With eager pace, and no less eager thoughts. Thus might we wear perhaps an hour away, Ascending at loose distance each from each, And I, as chanced, the foremost of the band; When at my feet the ground appeared to brighten, And with a step or two seemed brighter still; Nor had I time to ask the cause of this, For instantly a light upon the turf Fell like a flash! I looked about, and lo! The Moon stood naked in the heavens at height Immense above my head, and on the shore I found myself of a huge sea of mist, Which, meek and silent, rested at my feet. A hundred hills their dusky backs upheaved All over this still ocean; and beyond, Far, far beyond, the vapours shot themselves In headlands, tongues, and promontory shapes, Into the sea, the real sea, that seemed To dwindle, and give up its majesty, Usurped upon as far as sight could reach. Meanwhile, the Moon looked down upon this show In single glory, and we stood, the mist Touching our very feet. And from the shore At distance not the third part of a mile Was a blue chasm, a fracture in the vapour, A deep and gloomy breathing-place through which Mounted the roar of waters, torrents, streams Innumerable, roaring with one voice! The universal spectacle throughout Was shaped for admiration and delight, Grand in itself alone, but in that breach Through which the homeless voice of waters rose, That dark deep thoroughfare, had Nature lodged The soul, the imagination of the whole.
A meditation rose in me that night Upon the lonely mountain when the scene Had passed away, and it appeared to me The perfect image of a mighty mind, Of one that feeds upon infinity, That is exalted by an underpresence, The sense of God, or whatsoe’er is dim Or vast in its own being, above all, One function of such mind had Nature there Exhibited by putting forth, and that With circumstance most awful and sublime, That domination which she oftentimes Exerts upon the outward face of things, So moulds them, and endues, abstracts, combines, Or by abrupt and unhabitual influence Does make one object so impress itself Upon all others, and pervade them so That even the grossest minds must see and hear And cannot choose but feel. The power, which these Acknowledge when thus moved, which Nature thus Thrusts forth upon the senses, is the express Resemblance, in the fullness of its strength Made visible, a genuine counterpart And brother of the glorious faculty Which higher minds bear with them as their own. That is the very spirit in which they deal With all the objects of the universe: They from their native selves can send abroad Like transformation; for themselves create A like existence, and, whene’er it is Created for them, catch it by an instinct; Them the enduring and the transient both Serve to exalt; they build up greatest things From least suggestions; ever on the watch, Willing to work and to be wrought upon, They need not extraordinary calls To rouse them: in a world of life they live, By sensible impressions not enthralled, But quickened, roused, and made thereby more fit To hold communion with the invisible world. Such minds are truly from the Deity, For they are Powers; and hence the highest bliss That can be known is theirs 扉 the consciousness Of Whom they are, habitually infused Through every image and through every thought, And all impressions; hence religion, faith, And endless occupation for the Soul, Whether discursive or intuitive; Hence sovereignty within and peace at will, Emotion which best foresight need not fear, Most worthy then of trust when most intense. Hence cheerfulness in every act of life, Hence truth in moral judgements and delight . That fails not in the external universe. (10-119)
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