15
  I look about; and should the chosen guide
  Be nothing better than a wandering cloud,
  I cannot miss my way.  I breathe again! 
  Trances of thought and mountings of the mind
  Come fast upon me:  it is shaken off, 20
  That burthen of my own unnatural self,
  The heavy weight of many a weary day [C]
  Not mine, and such as were not made for me. 
  Long months of peace (if such bold word accord
  With any promises of human life), 25
  Long months of ease and undisturbed delight
  Are mine in prospect; whither shall I turn,
  By road or pathway, or through trackless field,
  Up hill or down, or shall some floating thing
  Upon the river point me out my course? 30

    Dear Liberty!  Yet what would it avail
  But for a gift that consecrates the joy? 
  For I, methought, while the sweet breath of heaven
  Was blowing on my body, felt within
  A correspondent breeze, that gently moved 35
  With quickening virtue, but is now become
  A tempest, a redundant energy,
  Vexing its own creation.  Thanks to both,
  And their congenial powers, that, while they join
  In breaking up a long-continued frost, 40
  Bring with them vernal promises, the hope
  Of active days urged on by flying hours,—­
  Days of sweet leisure, taxed with patient thought
  Abstruse, nor wanting punctual service high,
  Matins and vespers of harmonious verse! 45

    Thus far, O Friend! [D] did I, not used to make
  A present joy the matter of a song,
  Pour forth that day my soul in measured strains
  That would not be forgotten, and are here
  Recorded:  to the open fields I told 50
  A prophecy:  poetic numbers came
  Spontaneously to clothe in priestly robe
  A renovated spirit singled out,
  Such hope was mine, for holy services. 
  My own voice cheered me, and, far more, the mind’s 55
  Internal echo of the imperfect sound;
  To both I listened, drawing from them both
  A cheerful confidence in things to come.

    Content and not unwilling now to give
  A respite to this passion, I paced on 60
  With brisk and eager steps; and came, at length,
  To a green shady place, [E] where down I sate
  Beneath a tree, slackening my thoughts by choice,
  And settling into gentler happiness. 
  ’Twas autumn, and a clear and placid day, 65
  With warmth, as much as needed, from a sun
  Two hours declined towards the west; a day
  With silver clouds, and sunshine on the grass,
  And in the sheltered and the sheltering grove
  A perfect stillness.  Many were the