But here I must break off, and bid farewell
  To days, each offering some new sight, or fraught
  With some untried adventure, in a course
  Prolonged till sprinklings of autumnal snow 730
  Checked our unwearied steps.  Let this alone
  Be mentioned as a parting word, that not
  In hollow exultation, dealing out
  Hyperboles of praise comparative;
  Not rich one moment to be poor for ever; 735
  Not prostrate, overborne, as if the mind
  Herself were nothing, a mere pensioner
  On outward forms—­did we in presence stand
  Of that magnificent region.  On the front
  Of this whole Song is written that my heart 740
  Must, in such Temple, needs have offered up
  A different worship.  Finally, whate’er
  I saw, or heard, or felt, was but a stream
  That flowed into a kindred stream; a gale,
  Confederate with the current of the soul, 745
  To speed my voyage; every sound or sight,
  In its degree of power, administered
  To grandeur or to tenderness,—­to the one
  Directly, but to tender thoughts by means
  Less often instantaneous in effect; 750
  Led me to these by paths that, in the main,
  Were more circuitous, but not less sure
  Duly to reach the point marked out by Heaven.

    Oh, most beloved Friend! a glorious time,
  A happy time that was; triumphant looks 755
  Were then the common language of all eyes;
  As if awaked from sleep, the Nations hailed
  Their great expectancy:  the fife of war
  Was then a spirit-stirring sound indeed,
  A black-bird’s whistle in a budding grove. 760
  We left the Swiss exulting in the fate
  Of their near neighbours; and, when shortening fast
  Our pilgrimage, nor distant far from home,
  We crossed the Brabant armies on the fret [Kk]
  For battle in the cause of Liberty. 765
  A stripling, scarcely of the household then
  Of social life, I looked upon these things
  As from a distance; heard, and saw, and felt,
  Was touched, but with no intimate concern;
  I seemed to move along them, as a bird 770
  Moves through the air, or as a fish pursues
  Its sport, or feeds in its proper element;
  I wanted not that joy, I did not need
  Such help; the ever-living universe,
  Turn where I might, was opening out its glories, 775
  And the independent spirit of pure youth
  Called forth, at every season, new delights
  Spread round my steps like sunshine o’er green fields.

* * * * *

VARIANTS ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1: 

... gloomy Pass, 1845.]