Page:The Excursion, Wordsworth, 1814.djvu/100

74 To love when hope hath failed him—whom no depth

Of privacy is deep enough to hide,

Hath yet his bracelet or his lock of hair,

And that is joy to him. When change of times

Hath summoned Kings to scaffolds, do but give

The faithful Servant, who must hide his head

Henceforth in whatsoever nook he may,

A kerchief sprinkled with his Master's blood,

And he too hath his comforter. How poor,

Beyond all poverty how destitute,

Must that Man have been left, who, hither driven,

Flying or seeking, could yet bring with him

No dearer relique, and no better stay,

Than this dull product of a Scoffer's pen,

Impure conceits discharging from a heart

Hardened by impious pride!—I did not fear

To tax you with this journey;"—mildly said

My venerable Friend, as forth we stepped

Into the presence of the cheerful light—

"For I have knowledge that you do not shrink

From moving spectacles;— but let us on."

So speaking, on he went, and at the word

I followed, till he made a sudden stand: