Page:The Excursion, Wordsworth, 1814.djvu/155

129 As they exist, in mutable array,

Upon life's surface. What, though in my veins

There flowed no Gallic blood, nor had I breathed

The air of France, not less than Gallic zeal

Kindled and burnt among the sapless twigs

Of my exhausted heart. If busy Men

In sober conclave met, to weave a web

Of amity, whose living threads should stretch

Beyond the seas, and to the farthest pole,

There did I sit, assisting. If, with noise

And acclamation, crowds in open air

Expressed the tumult of their minds, my voice

There mingled, heard or not. The powers of song

I left not uninvoked; and, in still groves,

Where mild Enthusiasts tuned a pensive lay

Of thanks and expectation, in accord

With their belief, I sang Saturnian Rule

Returned,—a progeny of golden years

Permitted to descend, and bless mankind.

—With promises the Hebrew Scriptures teem:

I felt the invitation; and resumed

A long-suspended office in the House

Of public worship, where, the glowing phrase