Page:The Excursion, Wordsworth, 1814.djvu/288

262 Within the bosom of her awful Pile,

Ambitiously collected. Yet the sigh,

Which wafts that prayer to Heaven, is due to all,

Wherever laid, who living fell below

Their virtues humbler mark; a sigh of pain

If to the opposite extreme they sank.

How would you pity Her who yonder rests;

Him, farther off; the Pair, who here are laid;

But, above all, that mixture of Earth's Mold

Whom sight of this green Hillock to my mind

Recalls.—He lived not till his locks were nipped

By seasonable frost of age; nor died

Before his temples, prematurely forced

To mix the manly brown with silver grey,

Gave obvious instance of the sad effect

Produced, when thoughtless Folly hath usurped

The natural crown which sage Experience wears.

—Gay, volatile, ingenious, quick to learn,

And prompt to exhibit all that he possessed

Or could perform; a zealous actor—hired

Into the troop of mirth, a soldier—sworn

Into the lists of giddy enterprize

Such was he; yet, as if within his frame