Page:The Excursion, Wordsworth, 1814.djvu/301

275 The internal pangs are ready; the dread strife

Of poor humanity's afflicted will

Struggling in vain with ruthless destiny."

"Though," said the Priest in answer, "these be terms

Which a divine philosophy rejects,

We, whose established and unfailing trust

Is in controuling Providence, admit

That through all stations human life abounds

With mysteries,—for if Faith were left untried

How could the might—that lurks within her—then

Be shewn? her glorious excellence—that ranks

Among the first of Powers and Virtues—proved?

Our system is not fashioned to preclude

That sympathy which you for others ask;

And I could tell, not travelling for my theme

Beyond the limits of these humble graves,

Of strange disasters; but I pass them by,

Loth to disturb what heaven hath hushed in peace."

—Still less, far less am I inclined to treat

Of Man degraded in his Maker's sight

By the deformities of brutish vice:

For, though from these materials might be framed