shadowy: even a tomb like this is a shrine to
which the fancies of a scattered family may return in pilgrimage; the
thoughts of the individuals without any communication with each other
must oftentimes meet here. Such a frail memorial then is not without its
tendency to keep families together. It feeds also local attachment,
which is the tap-root of the tree of Patriotism.

I know not how I can withdraw more satisfactorily from this long
disquisition than by offering to the Reader as a farewell memorial the
following Verses, suggested to me by a concise epitaph which I met with
some time ago in one of the most retired vales among the mountains of
Westmoreland. There is nothing in the detail of the poem which is not
either founded upon the epitaph or gathered from enquiries concerning
the deceased, made in the neighbourhood.

Beneath that pine which rears its dusky head
Aloft, and covered by a plain blue stone
Briefly inscribed, a gentle Dalesman lies;
From whom in early childhood was withdrawn
The precious gift of hearing. He grew up
From year to year in loneliness of soul;
And this deep mountain valley was to him
Soundless with all its streams. The bird of dawn
Did never rouse this Cottager from sleep
With startling summons; not for his delight
The vernal cuckoo shouted, not for him
Murmured the labouring bee. When stormy winds
Were working the broad bosom of the Lake
Into a thousand thousand sparkling waves,
Rocking the trees, or driving cloud on cloud
Along the sharp edge of yon lofty crags,
The agitated scene before his eye
Was silent as a picture; evermore
Were all things silent wheresoe'er he moved.
Yet by the solace of his own calm thoughts
Upheld, he duteously pursued the round
Of rural labours: the steep mountain side
Ascended with his staff and faithful dog;
The plough he guided and the scythe he swayed,
And the ripe corn before his sickle fell
Among the jocund reapers. For himself,
All watchful and industrious as he was,
He wrought not; neither field nor flock he owned;
No wish for wealth had place within his mind,
No husband's love nor father's hope or care;
Though born a younger brother, need was none
That from the floor of his paternal home
He should depart to plant himself anew;
And when mature in manhood he beheld
His parents laid in earth, no loss ensued