Page:The Excursion, Wordsworth, 1814.djvu/380

354 Of three clear-sounding and harmonious bells,

That in the steeple hang, his pious gift."

"So fails, so languishes, grows dim, and dies,"

The grey-haired Wanderer pensively exclaimed,

"All that this World is proud of. From their spheres

The stars of human glory are cast down;

Perish the roses and the flowers of Kings,

Princes and Emperors, and the crowns and palms

Of all the Mighty, withered and consumed!

Nor is power given to lowliest Innocence

Long to protect her own. The Man himself

Departs; and soon is spent the Line of those

Who, in the bodily image, in the mind,

In heart or soul, in station or pursuit,

Did most resemble him. Degrees and Ranks,

Fraternities and Orders—heaping high

New wealth upon the burthen of the old,

And placing trust in privilege confirmed

And re-confirmed—are scoffed at with a smile

Of greedy foretaste, from the secret stand

Of Desolation, aimed: to slow decline