Page:The Excursion, Wordsworth, 1814.djvu/243

217 —Not for a happy Land do I enquire,

Island or Grove, that hides a blessed few

Who, with obedience willing and sincere,

To your serene authorities conform;

But whom I ask, of individual Souls,

Have ye withdrawn from Passion's crooked ways,

Inspired, and thoroughly fortified?—If the Heart

Could be inspected to its inmost folds

By sight undazzled with the glare of praise,

Who shall be named—in the resplendent line

Of Sages, Martyrs, Confessors—the Man

Whom the best might of Conscience, Truth, and Hope,

For one day's little compass, have preserved

From painful and discreditable shocks

Of contradiction, from some vague desire

Culpably cherished, or corrupt relapse

To some unsanctioned fear?"

"If this be so,

And Man," said I, "be in his noblest shape

Thus pitiably infirm; then, He who made,

And who shall judge the Creature, will forgive.

—Yet, in its general tenor, your complaint

Is all too true; and surely not misplaced.