| |
| HAPPY the dwellers in this holy house; | |
| For surely never worldly thoughts intrude | |
| On this retreat, this sacred solitude, | |
| Where Quiet with Religion makes her home. | |
| And ye who tenant such a goodly scene, | 5 |
| How should ye be but good where all is fair, | |
| And where the mirror of the mind reflects | |
| Serenest beauty? O’er these mountain-wilds | |
| The insatiate eye with ever-new delight | |
| Roams raptured, marking now where to the wind | 10 |
| The tall tree bends its many-tinted boughs | |
| With soft, accordant sound; and now the sport | |
| Of joyous sea-birds o’er the tranquil deep; | |
| And now the long-extending stream of light, | |
| Where the broad orb of day refulgent sinks | 15 |
| Beneath old Ocean’s line. To have no cares | |
| That eat the heart, no wants that to the earth | |
| Chain the reluctant spirit, to be freed | |
| From forced communion with the selfish tribe | |
| Who worship Mammon,—yea, emancipate | 20 |
| From this world’s bondage, even while the soul | |
| Inhabits still its corruptible clay,— | |
| Almost, ye dwellers in this holy house, | |
| Almost I envy you. You never see | |
| Pale Misery’s asking eye, nor roam about | 25 |
| Those huge and hateful haunts of crowded men, | |
| Where Wealth and Power have built their palaces, | |
| Fraud spreads his snares secure, man preys on man, | |
| Iniquity abounds, and rampant Vice, | |
| With an infection worse than mortal, taints | 30 |
The herd of human-kind.
I too could love, | |
| Ye tenants of this sacred solitude, | |
| Here to abide, and, when the sun rides high, | |
| Seek some sequestered dingle’s coolest shade; | |
| And, at the breezy hour, along the beach | 35 |
| Stray with slow step, and gaze upon the deep, | |
| And while the breath of evening fanned my brow, | |
| And the wild waves with their continuous sound | |
| Soothed my accustomed ear, think thankfully | |
| That I had from the crowd withdrawn in time, | 40 |
| And found a harbor. Yet may yonder deep | |
| Suggest a less unprofitable thought, | |
| Monastic brethren! Would the mariner, | |
| Though storms may sometimes swell the mighty waves, | |
| And o’er the reeling bark with thundering crash | 45 |
| Impel the mountainous surge, quit yonder deep, | |
| And rather float upon some tranquil sea, | |
| Whose moveless waters never feel the gale, | |
| In safe stagnation? Rouse thyself, my soul! | |
| No season this for self-deluding dreams; | 50 |
| It is thy spring-time; sow, if thou wouldst reap; | |
| Then, after honest labor, welcome rest, | |
| In full contentment not to be enjoyed | |
| Unless when duly earned. O, happy then | |
| To know that we have walked among mankind | 55 |
| More sinned against than sinning! happy then | |
| To muse on many a sorrow overpast, | |
| And think the business of the day is done, | |
| And as the evening of our lives shall close,— | |
| The peaceful evening,—with a Christian’s hope | 60 |
| Expect the dawn of everlasting day! | |
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