Page:The Excursion, Wordsworth, 1814.djvu/87

61 Nor joy abate, till, pitiable doom!

In the short course of one undreaded year

Death blasted all.—Death suddenly o'erthrew

Two lovely Children—all that they possessed!

The Mother followed:—miserably bare

The one Survivor stood; he wept, he prayed

For his dismissal; day and night, compelled

By pain to turn his thoughts towards the grave,

And face the regions of Eternity.

An uncomplaining apathy displaced

This anguish; and, indifferent to delight,

To aim and purpose, he consumed his days,

To private interest dead, and public care.

So lived he; so he might have died.

But now,

To the wide world's astonishment, appeared

The glorious opening, the unlooked-for dawn,

That promised everlasting joy to France!

That sudden light had power to pierce the gloom

In which his Spirit, friendless upon earth,

In separation dwelt, and solitude.

The voice of social transport reached even him!

He broke from his contracted bounds, repaired