And on these barren rocks, with fern and heath,
And juniper and thistle, sprinkled o'er, [6]
Fixing his downcast [7] eye, he many an hour 30
A morbid pleasure nourished, tracing here
An emblem of his own unfruitful life:
And, lifting up his head, he then would gaze
On the more distant scene,--how lovely 'tis
Thou seest,--and he would gaze till it became 35
Far lovelier, and his heart could not sustain
The beauty, still more beauteous! Nor, that time,
When nature had subdued him to herself, [8]
Would he forget those Beings to whose minds
Warm from the labours of benevolence 40
The world, and human life, [9] appeared a scene
Of kindred loveliness: then he would sigh,
Inly disturbed, to think [10] that others felt
What he must never feel: and so, lost Man!
On visionary views would fancy feed, 45
Till his eye streamed with tears. In this deep vale
He died,--this seat his only monument.
If Thou be one whose heart the holy forms
Of young imagination have kept pure,
Stranger! henceforth be warned; and know that pride, 50
Howe'er disguised in its own majesty,
Is littleness; that he who feels contempt
For any living thing, hath faculties
Which he has never used; that thought with him
Is in its infancy. The man whose eye 55
Is ever on himself doth look on one,
The least of Nature's works, one who might move