Page:The Excursion, Wordsworth, 1814.djvu/374

348 Europe, through all her habitable Seats,

Is thirsting for their overthrow, who still

Exist, as Pagan Temples stood of old,

By very horror of their impious rites

Preserved; are suffered to extend their pride,

Like Cedars on the top of Lebanon

Darkening the sun.—But less impatient thoughts,

And love "all hoping and expecting all,"

This hallowed Grave demands; where rests in peace

A humble Champion of the better Cause;

A Peasant-youth, so call him, for he asked

No higher name; in whom our Country shewed,

As in a favourite Son, most beautiful.

In spite of vice, and misery, and disease,

Spread with the spreading of her wealthy arts,

England, the ancient and the free, appeared,

In him, to stand before my swimming eyes

Unconquerably virtuous and secure.

—No more of this, lest I offend his dust:

Short was his life, and a brief tale remains.

One summer's day, a day of annual pomp

And solemn chace; from morn to sultry noon