relate
  How vanquished Mithridates northward passed,
  And, hidden in the cloud of years, became
  Odin, the Father of a race by whom
  Perished the Roman Empire:  [M] how the friends 190
  And followers of Sertorius, [N] out of Spain
  Flying, found shelter in the Fortunate Isles, [O]
  And left their usages, their arts and laws,
  To disappear by a slow gradual death,
  To dwindle and to perish one by one, 195
  Starved in those narrow bounds:  [P] but not the soul
  Of Liberty, which fifteen hundred years
  Survived, and, when the European came
  With skill and power that might not be withstood,
  Did, like a pestilence, maintain its hold 200
  And wasted down by glorious death that race
  Of natural heroes:  or I would record
  How, in tyrannic times, some high-souled man,
  Unnamed among the chronicles of kings,
  Suffered in silence for Truth’s sake:  or tell, 205
  How that one Frenchman, [Q] through continued force
  Of meditation on the inhuman deeds
  Of those who conquered first the Indian Isles,
  Went single in his ministry across
  The Ocean; not to comfort the oppressed, 210
  But, like a thirsty wind, to roam about
  Withering the Oppressor:  how Gustavus sought
  Help at his need in Dalecarlia’s mines:  [R]
  How Wallace fought for Scotland; left the name
  Of Wallace to be found, like a wild flower, 215
  All over his dear Country; [S] left the deeds
  Of Wallace, like a family of Ghosts,
  To people the steep rocks and river banks,
  Her natural sanctuaries, with a local soul
  Of independence and stern liberty. 220
  Sometimes it suits me better to invent
  A tale from my own heart, more near akin
  To my own passions and habitual thoughts;
  Some variegated story, in the main
  Lofty, but the unsubstantial structure melts 225
  Before the very sun that brightens it,
  Mist into air dissolving!  Then a wish,
  My best and favourite aspiration, mounts
  With yearning toward some philosophic song
  Of Truth that cherishes our daily life; 230
  With meditations passionate from deep
  Recesses in man’s heart, immortal verse [T]
  Thoughtfully fitted to the Orphean lyre; [U]
  But from this awful burthen I full soon
  Take refuge and beguile myself with trust 235
  That mellower years will bring a riper mind
  And clearer insight.  Thus my days are past
  In contradiction; with no skill to part
  Vague longing, haply bred by want of power,
  From paramount impulse not to be withstood, 240
  A timorous capacity from prudence,
  From circumspection, infinite delay.