Page:The Excursion, Wordsworth, 1814.djvu/303

277 As by the rivulet sparkling where it runs,

Or the pellucid Lake."

"Small risk," said I,

"Of such illusion do we here incur;

Temptation here is none to exceed the truth;

No evidence appears that they, who rest

Within this ground, were covetous of praise,

Or of remembrance even, deserved or not.

Green is the Church-yard, beautiful and green;

Ridge rising gently by the side of ridge:

A heaving surface—almost wholly free

From interruption of sepulchral stones,

And mantled o'er with aboriginal turf

And everlasting flowers. These Dalesmen trust

The lingering gleam of their departed Lives

To oral records and the silent heart;

Depository faithful, and more kind

Than fondest Epitaphs: for, if it fail,

What boots the sculptured Tomb? And who can blame,

Who rather would not envy, men that feel

This mutual confidence; if from such source

The practice flow,—if thence, or from a deep

And general humility in death?