Page:The Excursion, Wordsworth, 1814.djvu/284

258 Within their souls, a fount of grace divine;

And doth commend their weakness and disease

To Nature's care, assisted in her office

By all the Elements that round her wait

To generate, to preserve, and to restore;

And by her beautiful array of Forms

Shedding sweet influence from above, or pure

Delight exhaling from the ground they tread."

"Impute it not to impatience, if," exclaimed

The Wanderer, "I infer that he was healed

By perseverance in the course prescribed."

"You do not err: the powers, which had been lost

By slow degrees, were gradually regained;

The fluttering nerves composed; the beating heart

In rest established; and the jarring thoughts

To harmony restored.—But yon dark mold

Will cover him; in height of strength—to earth

Hastily smitten, by a fever's force.

Yet not with stroke so sudden as refused

Time to look back with tenderness on her

Whom he had loved in passion,—and to send