The deaf’n’d ear, and dark’n’d sight;
And in dry deserts glad the swains,
With bubbling rills and cultur’d plains.
No more invent thy airy schemes,
Nor mock me with fantastic dreams---
No more thy idle stories tell,
Deceitful prattler—Hope farewell!”
“The evening was uncommonly serene when I wandered from my cottage to enjoy its balmy sweetness, the distant hum of the busy villagers retiring from their various occupations, just stole upon my ear, and made me reflect on the happiness of our English peasants, and that a life of industry was a life of peace, since it kept the mind employed, and prevented the thoughts from wandering beyond the boundaries of virtue.
“I raised my eyes to the bright firmament where joys eternal are treasured for the righteous—I considered that millions of celestial beings might at that moment be hovering over my head, and joining in responsive hallelujahs before the throne of the Almighty, Milton’s beautiful lines occurred to me—
“Then crown’d again their golden harps they took,