"Philosophy! and thou more vaunted name Religion! with thy statelier retinue, Faith, Hope, and Charity--from the visible world Choose for your emblems whatsoe'er ye find Of safest guidance or[452] of firmest trust-- 335 The torch, the star, the anchor; nor except The cross itself, at whose unconscious feet The generations of mankind have knelt Ruefully seized, and shedding bitter tears, And through that conflict seeking rest--of you, 340 High-titled Powers, am I constrained to ask, Here standing, with the unvoyageable sky In faint reflection of infinitude Stretched overhead, and at my pensive feet A subterraneous magazine of bones, 345 In whose dark vaults my own shall soon be laid, Where are your triumphs? your dominion where? And in what age admitted and confirmed? --Not for a happy land do I enquire, Island or grove, that hides a blessed few 350 Who, with obedience willing and sincere, To your serene authorities conform; But whom, I ask, of individual Souls, Have ye withdrawn from passion's crooked ways, Inspired, and thoroughly fortified?--If the heart 355 Could be inspected to its inmost folds By sight undazzled with the glare of praise, Who shall be named--in the resplendent line Of sages, martyrs, confessors--the man Whom the best might of faith, wherever fix'd,[453] 360 For one day's little compass, has preserved From painful and discreditable shocks Of contradiction, from some vague desire Culpably cherished, or corrupt relapse To some unsanctioned fear?" "If this be so, 365 And Man," said I, "be in his noblest shape Thus pitiably infirm; then, he who made, And who shall judge the creature, will forgive. --Yet, in its general tenor, your complaint Is all too true; and surely not misplaced: 370 For, from this pregnant spot of ground, such thoughts Rise to the notice of a serious mind By natural exhalation. With the dead In their repose, the living in their mirth, Who can reflect, unmoved, upon the round 375 Of smooth and solemnized complacencies, By which, on Christian lands, from age to age Profession mocks performance? Earth is sick, And Heaven is weary, of the hollow words Which States and Kingdoms utter when they talk 380 Of truth and justice. Turn to private life And social neighbourhood; look we to ourselves; A light of duty shines on every day For all; and yet how few are warmed or cheered! How few who mingle with their fellow-men 385 And still remain self-governed, and apart, Like this our honoured Friend; and thence acquire Right to expect his vigorous decline,