(Wordsworth. The Excursion.)
Whate'er exists hath properties that spread
Beyond itself, communicating good,
A simple blessing or with evil mixed.—
Spirit that knows no insulated spot,
No chasm, no solitude; from link to link
It circulates, the soul of all the worlds.
Where Knowledge, ill begun in cold remarks
On outward things, with formal inference ends,
Or if the mind turn inward, 't is perplexed,
Lost in a gloom of uninspired research....
.... Viewing all objects unremittingly
In disconnexion, dead and spiritless,
And still dividing and dividing still,
Break down all grandeur.
The sun is fixed,
And the infinite magnificence of heaven
Fixed within reach of every human eye.
The sleepless Ocean murmurs for all ears,
The vernal field infuses fresh delight
Into all hearts....
The primal duties shine aloft like stars,
The charities that soothe and heal and bless
Are scattered at the feet of man—like flowers.
Life, I repeat, is energy of Love
Divine or human, exercised in pain,
In strife, in tribulation, and ordained,
If so approved and sanctified, to pass,
Through shades and silent rest, to endless joy.
[283]: Voir aussi les romans agressifs et socialistes de W. Godwin, surtout Caleb Williams.