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1. What he learned from Nature
From his sixth year the Boy of whom I speak In summer tended cattle on the hills But in the winter time he duly went To his Step-father's School, that stood alone, Sole Building on a mountain's dreary edge, Far from the sight of city spire, or sound Of minster clock. From that bleak tenement He, many an evening, to his distant home In solitude returning, saw the hills Grow larger in the darkness, all alone Beheld the stars come out above his head, And travell'd through the wood with no one near To whom he might confess the things he saw. So the foundations of his mind were laid. In such communion, not from terror free, While yet a child, and long before his time He had perceiv'd the presence and the power Of greatness, and deep feelings had impress'd Great objects on his mind with portraiture And colour so distinct that on his mind They lay like substances and almost seem'd To haunt the bodily sense. He had receiv'd (Vigorous in mind by nature as he was) A precious gift; for as he grew in years With these impressions would he still compare All his ideal stores, his shapes and forms; And, being still unsatisfied with aught Of dimmer character, he thence attain'd An active power to fasten images Upon his brain ; and on their pictur'd lines Intensely brooded, even till they acquir'd The liveliness of dreams. (ll. 115-146)
2. How Nature shaped his mind From early childhood, even, as I have said, From his sixth year, he had been sent abroad In summer to tend herds: such was his task Thenceforward till the later day of youth. Oh ! then what soul was his when on the tops Of the high mountains he beheld the sun Rise up, and bathe the world in light. He look'd; The ocean and the earth beneath him lay In gladness and deep joy. The clouds were touch'd, And in their silent faces did he read Unutterable love. Sound needed none, Nor any voice of joy : his spirit drank The spectacle. Sensation, soul, and form All melted into him: they swallow'd up His animal being: in them did he live And by them did he live. They were his life. In such access of mind, in such high hour Of visitation from the living God, Thought was not; In enjoyment it expir'd. Such hour by prayer or praise was unprofan'd ; He neither pray'd, nor offer'd thanks or praise ; His mind was a thanksgiving to the Power That made him: it was blessedness and love. A Herdsman on the lonely mountain tops, Such intercourse was his, and in this sort Was his existence oftentimes possess'd. Oh! then, how beautiful, how bright appear'd The written promise! He had early learn'd To reverence the Volume which displays The mystery, the life which cannot die : But in the mountains did he feel his faith: There did he see the writing. All things there Breath'd immortality, revolving life, And greatness still revolving; infinite. There littleness was not; the least of things Seem'd infinite, and there his spirit shap'd Her prospects, nor did he believe, he saw. What wonder if his being thus became Sublime and comprehensive! Low desires, Low thoughts had there no place; yet was his mind Lowly; for he was meek in gratitude Oft as he call'd to mind those ecstasies And whence they flow'd, and from them he acquir'd Wisdom which works through patience; thence he learn'd, In many a calmer hour of sober thought, To look on nature with an humble heart, Self-question'd where it did not understand, And with a superstitious eye of love. (ll. 186-233)
 
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