Yet one word more of personal concern-- Since I withdrew unwillingly from France, I led an undomestic wanderer's life, 350 In London chiefly harboured, whence I roamed, Tarrying at will in many a pleasant spot Of rural England's cultivated vales Or Cambrian solitudes. [H] A youth--(he bore The name of Calvert [I]--it shall live, if words 355 Of mine can give it life,) in firm belief That by endowments not from me withheld Good might be furthered--in his last decay By a bequest sufficient for my needs Enabled me to pause for choice, and walk 360 At large and unrestrained, nor damped too soon By mortal cares. Himself no Poet, yet Far less a common follower of the world, He deemed that my pursuits and labours lay Apart from all that leads to wealth, or even 365 A necessary maintenance insures, Without some hazard to the finer sense; He cleared a passage for me, and the stream Flowed in the bent of Nature. [K] Having now Told what best merits mention, further pains 370 Our present purpose seems not to require, And I have other tasks. Recall to mind The mood in which this labour was begun, O Friend! The termination of my course Is nearer now, much nearer; yet even then, 375 In that distraction and intense desire, I said unto the life which I had lived, Where art thou? Hear I not a voice from thee Which 'tis reproach to hear? Anon I rose As if on wings, and saw beneath me stretched 380 Vast prospect of the world which I had been And was; and hence this Song, which like a lark I have protracted, in the unwearied heavens Singing, and often with more plaintive voice To earth attempered and her deep-drawn sighs, 385 Yet centring all in love, and in the end All gratulant, if rightly understood.