Page:Poems by William Wordsworth (1815) Volume 1.djvu/289

229 But if thou go'st, I follow—" "Peace!" he said—

She looked upon him and was calmed and cheered;

The ghastly colour from his lips had fled;

In his deportment, shape, and mien, appeared

Elysian beauty—melancholy grace—

Brought from a pensive though a happy place.

He spake of love, such love as Spirits feel

In worlds whose course is equable and pure;

No fears to beat away—no strife to heal—

The past uusighed for, and the future sure;

Spake, as a witness, of a second birth

For all that is most perfect upon earth:

Of all that is most beauteous—imaged there

In happier beauty; more pellucid streams,

An ampler ether, a diviner air,

And fields invested with purpureal gleams;

Climes which the Sun, who sheds the brightest day

Earth knows, is all unworthy to survey.

Yet there the Soul shall enter which hath earned

That privilege by virtue.—"Ill," said he,

"The end of man's existence I discerned,

Who from ignoble games and revelry