Page:The Excursion, Wordsworth, 1814.djvu/254

228 To those who need the gift. But, after all,

Is aught so certain as that Man is doomed

To breathe beneath a vault of ignorance?

The natural roof of that dark house in which

His soul is pent! How little can be known,

This is the wise man's sigh; how far we err,

This is the good man's not unfrequent pang,

And they perhaps err least, the lowly Class

Whom a benign necessity compels

To follow Reason's least ambitious course;

Such do I mean who, unperplexed by doubt

And unincited by a wish to look

Into high objects farther than they may,

Pace to and fro, from morn till even-tide,

The narrow avenue of daily toil

For daily bread."

"Yes," buoyantly exclaimed

The pale Recluse—"praise to the sturdy plough,

And patient spade, and shepherd's simple crook,

And ponderous loom—resounding while it holds

Body and mind in one captivity;

And let the light mechanic tool be hailed

With honour; which, encasing, by the power