torrents underneath, and see the ruin of the impending rock; with falling trees, which hang with their roots upwards, and seem to draw more ruin after them. Here thoughtless men seized with the newness of such objects, become thoughtful, and willingly contemplate the incessant changes of this Earth's surface. They see, as in one instant, the revolutions of past ages, the fleeting forms of things, and the decay even of this our globe; whose youth and first formation they consider, while the apparent spoil and irreparable breaches of the wasted mountain show them the world itself only as a noble ruin, and make them think of it's approaching period. But here, midway the mountain, a spacious border of thick wood harbours our wearied travellers who now are come among the ever green and lofty pines, the firs, and noble cedars, whose towering heads seem endless in the sky the rest of trees appearing only as shrubs beside them. And here a different horrour seizes our sheltered travellers, when they see the day diminished by the deep shades of the vast wood; which, closing thick above, spreads darkness and eternal night below. The faint and gloomy light looks horrid as the shade itself: and the profound stillness of these places imposes silence upon men, struck with the hoarse echoings of every sound within the spacious caverns of the wood. Here space astonishes. Silence itself seems pregnant; while an unknown force works on the mind, and dubious objects move the wakeful sense. Mysterious voices are either heard or fancied and various forms of Deity seem to present themselves, and appear more manifest in these sacred sylvan scenes; such as of old gave rise to temples, and favoured the religion of the ancient world. Even we ourselves, who in plain characters may read Divinity from so many bright parts of Earth, choose rather these obscurer places, to spell out that mysterious Being, which to our weak eyes appears at best under a veil of cloud.
ELDER AND YOUNGER BROTHER.
UNMUFFLE, ye faint stars; and thou, fair Moon,
That wont'st to love the trav'ller's benison,
Stoop thy pale visage through an amber cloud,
And disinherit Chaos, that reigns here
In double night of darkness and of shades;
Or, if your influence be quite damm'd up
With black usurping mists, some gentle taper,
Though a rush-candle from the wicker hole.
Of some clay habitation, visit us
With thy long-levell'd rule of streaming light;
And thou shalt be our star of Arcady,
Or Tyrian Cynosure.
Second Brother.
Be barr'd that happiness, might we but hear
The folded flocks penn'd in their wattled cotes,
Or sound of past'ral reed with oaten stops,
Or whistle from the lodge, or village cock
Count the night watches to his feathery dames,
"Twould be some solace yet, some little cheering,
In this close dungeon of innum'rous boughs.
But, oh that hapless virgin, our lost sister!
Where may she wander now, whither betake her
From the chill dew, among rude burs and thistles?
Perhaps some cold bank is her bolster now,
Or 'gainst the rugged bark of some broad elm
Leans her unpillow'd head, fraught with sad fears.
What, if in wild amazement and affright?
Or, while we speak, within the direful grasp
Of savage hunger, or of savage heat?
El. Bro. Peace, brother: be not over exquisite
To cast the fashion of uncertain evils:
For grant they be so, while they rest unknown,
What need a man forestall his date of grief,
And run to meet what he would most avoid?
Or, if they be but false alarms of fear,
How bitter is such self delusion!
I do not think my sister so to seek,
Or so unprincipled in virtue's book,
And the sweet peace, that goodness bosoms ever,
As that the single want of light and noise
(Not being in danger, as I trust she is not) Could stir the constant mood of her calm thoughts, And put them into misbecoming plight.
Virtue could see to do what Virtue would
By her own radiant light, though sun and moon
Were in the flat sea sunk. And Wisdom's self
Oft seeks to sweet retired solitude;
Where, with her best nurse, Contemplation,
She plumes her feathers, and lets grow her wings,
That in the various bustle of resort
Were all 100 ruffled, and sometimes impair'd.
He that his light within his own clear breast,
May sit i' th' centre, and enjoy bright day :
But he, that hides a dark soul and foul thoughts,
Benighted walks under the mid-day sun;
Himself is his own dungeon.
That musing meditation most affects
The pensive secrecy of desert cell,
Far from the cheerful baunt of men and herds,
And sits as safe as in a senate house;
For who would rob a hermit of his weeds,
His few books, or his beads, or maple dish,
Or do his gray hairs any violence?
But beauty, like the fair Hesperian tree
Laden with blooming gold, had need the guard
Of dragon watch, with unenchanted eye,
To save her blossoms, and defend her fruit,
From the rash hand of bold Incontinence.
You may as well spread out the unsunn'd heaps
Of misers' treasure by an outlaw's den,
And tell me it is safe, as bid me hope
Danger will wink on opportuuity,
And let a single helpless maiden pass
Uninjur'd in this wild surrounding waste.
Of night, or loneliness, it recks me not;
I fear the dread events, that dog them both,
Lest some ill greeting touch attempt the person
Of our unowned sister.
I do not, brother,
Infer, as if I thought my sister's state
Secure, without all doubt or controversy;
Yet, where an equal poise of hope and fear
Does arbitrate th' event, my nature is
That I incline to hope, rather than fear,
And gladly banish squint suspicion.
My sister is not so defenceless left
As you imagine; she has a hidden strength,
Which you remember not.
Sec. Bro.
What hidden strength,
Unless the strength of Heav'n, if you mean that?
El. Bro. I mean that too, but yet a hidden strength, Which, if Heav'n gave it, may be term'd her own :
"Tis chastity, my brother, chastity:
She, that has that, is clad in complete steel;
And, like a quiver'd nymph with arrows keen,
May trace huge forests, and unharbour'd heaths,
Infamous hills, and sandy perilous wilds;
Where, through the sacred rays of chastity,
No savage fierce, bandite, or mountaineer,
Will dare to soil her virgin purity:
Yea there, where very desolation dwells,
By grots and caverns shagg'd with horrid shades,
She may pass on with unblench'd majesty,
Be it not done in pride, or in presumption.
Some say, no evil thing, that walks by night
In fog or fire, by lake or moorish fen,
Blue meagre hag, or stubborn unlaid ghost,
That breaks his magic chains at curfeu time,
No goblin, or swart faery of the mine,
Hath hurtful power o'er true virginity.
Do ye believe me yet, or shall I call
Antiquity from the old schools of Greece,
To testify the arms of chastity?
Hence had the huntress Dian her dread bow,
Fair silver-shafted queen, for ever chaste,
Wherewith she tam'd the brinded lioness
And spotted mountain pard, but set at nought
The friv'lous bolt of Cupid; gods and men
Fear'd her stern frown, and she was queen o' th' woods,
What was that snaky-headed Gorgon shield,
That wise Minerva wore, unconquer'd virgin,
Wherewith she freez'd her foes to congeal'd stone
But rigid looks of chaste austerity,
And noble grace, that dash'd brute violence
With sudden adoration and blank awe ?
So dear to Heav'n is saintly chastity,
That, when a soul is found sincerely so,
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