"Is this," the grey-haired Wanderer mildly said, "The voice, which we so lately overheard, 226 To that same child, addressing tenderly The consolations of a hopeful mind? '_His body is at rest, his soul in heaven._' These were your words; and, verily, methinks 230 Wisdom is oft-times nearer when we stoop Than when we soar."-- The Other, not displeased, Promptly replied--"My notion is the same. And I, without reluctance, could decline All act of inquisition whence we rise, 235 And what, when breath hath ceased, we may become. Here are we, in a bright and breathing world. Our origin, what matters it? In lack Of worthier explanation, say at once With the American (a thought which suits 240 The place where now we stand) that certain men Leapt out together from a rocky cave;[CZ] And these were the first parents of mankind: Or, if a different image be recalled By the warm sunshine, and the jocund voice 245 Of insects chirping out their careless lives On these soft beds of thyme-besprinkled turf, Choose, with the gay Athenian, a conceit As sound--blithe race! whose mantles were bedecked With golden grasshoppers,[DA] in sign that they 250 Had sprung, like those bright creatures, from the soil Whereon their endless generations dwelt.[232] But stop!--these theoretic fancies jar On serious minds: then, as the Hindoos draw[233] Their holy Ganges from a skiey fount,[DB] 255 Even so deduce the stream of human life From seats of power divine; and hope, or trust, That our existence winds her[234] stately course Beneath the sun, like Ganges, to make part Of a living ocean; or, to sink engulfed,[235] 260 Like Niger, in impenetrable sands And utter darkness:[DC] thought which may be faced, Though comfortless!-- "Not of myself I speak; Such acquiescence neither doth imply, In me, a meekly-bending spirit soothed 265 By natural piety; nor a lofty mind, By philosophic discipline prepared For calm subjection to acknowledged law; Pleased to have been, contented not to be. Such palms I boast not;--no! to me, who find, 270 Reviewing my past way, much to condemn, Little to praise, and nothing to regret, (Save some remembrances of dream-like joys That scarcely seem to have belonged to me) If I must take my choice between the pair 275 That rule alternately the weary hours, Night is than day more acceptable; sleep Doth, in my estimate of good, appear A better state than waking; death than sleep: Feelingly sweet is stillness after storm, 280 Though under covert of the wormy ground!