Page:The Excursion, Wordsworth, 1814.djvu/304

278 Nor should I much condemn it, if it spring

From disregard of Time's destructive power,

As only capable to prey on things

Of earth, and human nature's mortal part.

Yet—in less simple districts, where we see

Stone lift its forehead emulous of stone

In courting notice, and the ground all paved

With commendations of departed worth,

Reading, where'er we turn, of innocent lives,

Of each domestic charity fulfilled

And sufferings meekly borne—I, for my part,

Though with the silence pleased which here prevails,

Among those fair recitals also range

Soothed by the natural spirit which they breathe.

And, in the centre of a world whose soil

Is rank with all unkindness, compassed round

With such Memorials, I have sometimes felt

That 'twas no momentary happiness

To have one enclosure where the voice that speaks

In envy or detraction is not heard;

Which malice may not enter; where the traces

Of evil inclinations are unknown;

Where love and pity tenderly unite