PART II.

O Thou ETERNAL L IGHT ! while I addressed
Thy Maker in my thought inaudible,
Thou, entering and illumining this frame,
His human shrine, didst mingle with my prayer,
Ethereal stream! in rolling the broad day
River-like, while I spake. Ingenerate source!
Fountain, or life, of nature; thou that art
Pervading Spirit filling earth and heaven!
All space, all worlds, all time exist in thee,
And death the shadow is where thou art not,
Alternating life's motion and repose.

Eye of the Day! that makest visible
All things, thyself unknown as He who dwells
Within thy veils, the everlasting spring
Of thy pure emanation! Ere the stars
Were made, or suns that led them on, thou wast,
Indwelling with the sanctities of heaven!
Thou robe of many colours, hovering round
Earth's body like a mantle, thou dost wake
To life and motion all the infinite forms
That magnify this glorious universe
O mightiest and most silent of the forms
Of Deity! my spirit feels allied,
Invigorated, god-like made by thee,
Thou interpenetrating blessing. I
Pour forth myself to thee in orisons;
The soul within me merged in gratitude,
A thing of faith, and wonderment, and joy.

Cheerful we met, and glad the interchange
Of thought that our else toilsome road beguiled.
Our path, from woods emerging, opened on
A grey and desolate waste of swelling hills,
The brows of Nature in her savage mood.
A granite throne of crags confronting frowned,
Upreared by fires, or earth's convulsive throes.
Faint life, that hither to had veined the moor,
Vanished; springs gushing secretly, the furze,
The fern, and foxglove's speckled brow, the reed,
With the wild cotton-rush, were seen no more.
Abruptly spake the Pastor: — " You behold him
Leaning against you crag with folded arms:
'Tis he, the Enthusiast, of whom I spoke."

We neared, and glad the greeting; most from him,
That solitary man; from his pale cheek
And thoughtful eye care flitted, shadow-like,
Before our cheering voices' welcome sound.
The Pastor's eyes dwelt on him as on one
He loved, yet blamed: — " My friend! you well are found.
The sun and day their gladness breathe in all:
We claim a promise made in other days,
Not unforgot." He answered to our tone,
And led the way, where, shadowed beneath rocks,
Gigantic elms encircled a broad mere.
The flashing sunlight glinted on the stream,
While the wind motioning the pensile boughs,
Sighed forth Æolian melodies. We watched
The stateliness of their based trunks from earth
Uprising in pyramidal majesty.
Silence gave homage to the scene; then spoke.

The Enthusiast: " these my living comates are,
Nor voiceless oracles, suggestive they
Or of sensation soothing, or calm thought,
It may be from their sound and motion born
Who, looking upward to their infinite life,
Feels not uplifted? I have stood among
Grey wrecks of man, fall'n columns, monuments
Of mighty nations in oblivion rolled.
August the thought on empire's rise and fall,
Profound the feeling of our nothingness;
Such musings fruitless, or of sickly growth,
Whose ministry is not wisdom; how unlike
The healthful aspirations of the soul,
Gazing on these patricians of the earth,
Tossing in storm or sunshin!"

As he spoke,
His cheek flushed, and his kindling eyes lit up
With all a poet's faith, that magnifies
The thing it loves. A shadow of regret
O'ercast the Pastor's forehead, chased away
By the appearance of a thoughtful Man,
Advancing with slow tread. The greeting warm,
Responded by that man of large, calm brows,
And earnest mien, who smiled not, on whose frame
And front enlarged was stamped material power;
In whose deep eyes sate deeper thought revealed.

The Pastor spoke: — " Sir, our respected friend
Lacked but your voice to hold a pledge reclaimed."

The Fatalist turned towards him: " That friend needs
No moving influence beyond your request.
Nought could fall from him, but that will inspire
In us profounder reverence; less award
Could we give him who dares unfold a leaf
From that deep book of mysteries, the soul?
Nature has placed for each a granite seat;
Let us repose within this shade, and hear
The revelation of a brother's life."

" Here," said the Enthusiast, " in my chosen haunt,
I dream or meditate the hours away,
Unbroken on by man."

We gazed around.
The mountain, casting off the beautiful,
Austerer state assumed, folding his breast,
King-like, with robes of mist; he raised his crown,
And sate alone with solitude. The crags,
Raising their granite spears from each sharp peak,
Shone, foam-like, in the sun; fantastic shapes
Of spire, and dome, and minaret were there.
I turned from Nature to the man, and saw
His spirit harmonised with that wild scene.

Sincerity looked out from his calm face,
As from a windowed temple, its truth felt
Even as a presence speaking from its shrine.
Benignant traits thereon the child might read.
Great Nature's quietude sate on his brow;
The sunsets he had watched, that filled his soul
With thoughts sedate, tranquillity, and love,
Softened his brow o'erflaked by silvery hair,
Tinged ere its time; enthusiasm's fires,
Faded, still faintly lightened in his eyes.

He looked as if the spirit of the scene
Had entered in him to subdue; his cheek
Deep-lined, and worn, and lips depressed, showed one
Who nature's finest impulses had proved,
The depths of thought and human suffering.
He turned towards us with a look and smile
Devoid not of its charm.

" You marvel, friends,
Why I have sought this desolate retreat.
In the calm eve of life, our hopes o'ercast,
Impulse and faiths outlived, we love the scene
That blends the present with our parted life.
The worn-out mariner, home-fixed, though free
To wander o'er broad fields, contracts his walk
To the space trodden on the reeling deck.
We love to gather round us, ere we die,
Memorials of our childhood; they renew
Remembered innocence, until the glow
From memory caught is feeling; they instil
Staid wisdom in us while beholding them.
That this lone solitude my life reflects
You shall be judges in its tale." He paused
In thought, absorbed in visions of the past.

" Unequal I to my great task imposed.
To tell the natural history of man,
The daily and familiar life were trite.
I would reveal recesses of the soul,
Trace to its roots the feeling and the thought
Ere blossomed on the tree Grateful relief!
To confess all that we have felt and known;
To garland life's grey branches with fresh leaves,
The past and present blending; on youth's shore
To stand again among departed shades;
Embers of hope and faith reanimate,
Faith deep as life, hope infinite as heaven!
These losses are as nought to inward change;
The feelings that once glorified the heart
Outlived; the self-projected light obscured;
The opening affections folded up
By slow distrust, or nipped by life and time.

" I have no thrilling secret to reveal,
Pity or wonder moving, fruitless each
To wisdom-garnering minds. Mine rather are
Confessions of soul, its cell forgot;
A history of faiths and joys unshared;
Of feelings buried in the grave of self,
Told to the elements 'mid which I lived
The growth of such a temple, opening
Its portals to all purest images
From Nature sent or God, to enlarge the heart,
May be rehearsed, nor lack example high
Of what to seek or shun.

" To be alone
Was my first boyhood's passion; my school-mates
Shared not my thoughts, their pastimes I resigned,
I felt to be alone was liberty.
I was impelled toward the rock and heath,
To wild and desolate places. When the winds
With their fierce wings swept o'er the rainy hills,
And the grey cloud-rack drifted o'er the moor,
I loved to shroud within its vaporous folds;
And, as the whirlwind soundingly swept by,
I threw my soul exulting in the strife.
I loved amid brown Autumn's fallen leaves
To linger with a strange and troubled joy
I understood not; while the setting sun
Tinged them with light, I watched him wistfully,
Image of beauty in me felt and owned.

" Time and decay were unrealities;
The imaginative faculty unborn;
Nature filled me with her reflected life;
Yearnings for happiness indefinite,
Whose joy was in desire. I felt its home
Dwelt in the vistas of the glorious west;
I sighed to be a thing of wings and light,
To flee away and there confess my thought
To the beatified beings I had shaped
From my own world, contemning homelier life;
I clung to them, while knowing they were not.
With evening's shade I sought the Minster near,
Lighted, and echoing to the vesper hymn;
With eyes upraised, and heart devout, I listened,
While through my being thrilled the organ-peal,
Until my body's self became a soul!

" So I grew up a thing of impulses,
Loving material form, their meanings veiled,
Till by oracular poetry revealed.
Then Maro's life was mine; then vibrated
My spirit's chords to blind Maeonides;
Then opened Hell and Paradise; and his world,
The demigod who dwelt by Avon's stream
So I built up the imaginative mind:
A hero or a sage, in my own world
I lived amid creations of my own,
Restlessly seeking, or by hill or stream,
Rest I found not, whose seat is in the heart.

" Blame me not, fervent friends, if that I dwell
Too fondly on this portion of my life;
For then I was a soul by God approved,
A natural temple moulded by his hands;
One with the holy and the beautiful,
I gazed on. Therefore I bear witness here
That I have lived a spiritual thing;
A luminous cloud retaining on my brow
The reflex of the Maker. I felt life
A blessing poured forth on me; each day was
One passionate enjoyment. I knew not
Unhealthy cravings to be seen or heard
By crowds remote, my pride to be unseen,
To wander, brook-like, my companions were;
The shapes of Nature my companions were;
I knew not, then, it was myself that gave
Expression to her face; her light and shade
Reflected from me, that I shed my life
On her, the love and consciousness my own.
I read protection in the solemn brows
Of the clouds looking on me; trees were harps,
Whose boughs were chords that tuned creation's hymn.
The rocks were altar-places, where I saw
Time and power visibly throned; earth's azure veins,
The rivulets, filled me with quiet joy,
I felt their pulsings came from Nature's heart.

" The bound of my day-wanderings was a hill
Crowning a woodland landscape, on whose verge
The sun's last rays athwart the deep declined.
From childhood wistfully I watched that line
Of light that snake-like sinuously wound
Gleaming or darkening through the belted hills,
A marvel to be sought. The hour arrived,
I took the staff for my long pilgrimage,
And journeyed to behold the unknown Sea.

" O, life owns moments when to disavow
The soul in us were to deny its God;
Then when we feel the quickening infinite,
That in this breathing being we are joined
To everlasting natures. I recall
That date-day of a life regenerate.
The luminiferous ether round me spread;
On the horizon line, the far-off waves,
Glittering in light, bannered with glorious clouds,
On-rolling like some multitudinous host,
Foam-crested, spreading out far-flashing lines,
Broke in reverberating thunders. I
Knelt down and heard the mighty coming, filled
With veneration of the priests of old,
The reverential awe of the great deep.
I stretched my hands forth to embrace the power
In-rushing on my soul; I stood before
Nature, and felt her heaving life; I heard
The innermost voices of her heart in mine;
Mountains, and sands, and sea my being filled;
The sky o'er watching, calm as Godhead's brow
Contemplating agitation. I beheld
The Spirit of Joy cleave through the rushing waves;
I heard them shouting through their rocky halls
In their exulting laughter, and I felt
Their energy, that gave the strength I drew.
The image of the Infinite was shown,
The book of life; I stood, and saw its scrolls
Unfolding to the organ of the Sea.

" I poured my spirit forth in gratitude;
For I was conscious of a two-fold state;
The inward calm, serene as the far sky,
And strength, whose depth was in the heart profound,
Entempested or stilled. Even while I gazed,
The world of sound my inmost spirit filled;
And, as on clouds of incense, wafted me
Into the regions of tranquillity.

" Homeward I turned, a staid and thoughtful man
The aspect of the grave-browed woods no more
Impressed on me their feeling quietude.
I brought back in me the sea's restlessness;
In my heart's depths, as in the folded shell,
I heard its respirations, and I felt
My faculties to loftier themes were strung.
My heart a chaos was, by impulse ruled;
I strove to mould my thoughts confused; I sighed
Over the forms disjointed I had made.

" O, little may the cold world apprehend
The anticipating hope, the doubt, the fear
Of youthful aspiration! restless sighs
For fame, whose happiness is its desire;
The hesitating step toward the shrine,
Awed by the potentates enthroned, that were
Embodied virtues. I, the acolyte,
Felt, in that temple, conscious of a power
Hidden, but cherished still. I thought of those
Who lived and died unheard; I felt myself
As one; apportionate of their great hearts,
Their aspirations were my own; the foil
They proved was mine; the Antaean overthrow,
The strife renewed, and wreath of triumph won.

" Like a worn sculptor, hopelessly I stood
Before the lifeless marble; I beheld
The beautiful I could not animate;
I lacked the fire Prometheus drew from heaven.
I felt the knowledge wisdom draws from life,
And healthful aspirations, were not mine.
Deaf idols I had worshipped, wasted strength
On forms ideal; unknown that the life-keys
Opening the passions by ourselves are forged;
All that unlocks the hidden world of Man,
Of power and truth, existent in the soul.

" I entered the arena, led by hope,
And faith, and trust, whose ministry is one.
I yearned but for the beautiful and good;
I held in me the alchemy of love,
Transmuting evil; faith beside me walked,
That scorn rebuked, and hate; that, when recoiled,
Duty, reminded me the springs of life
Rose fountain-like from God. And thus I heard
The hypocrite with hope renewed; I felt
The pearl was in its shell, unknown to him
The joy of bosoming the truth. To love,
Dreaming of faith, I listened; I knew not
Constancy's self was but the slower hand
Of change upon the dial; how could youth
Record the tale of passion and decline?
The slow unwinding of the folds that girt
The once-loved idol, the prophetic tone
In love's first, latest sigh — remember me.

" So through the crowd I walked, confiding still:
I saw want sigh its miseries unheard;
Weak innocence trampled on; exhausted guilt
Asking eternal rest; revenge and hate
Foiled in death's gripe; and, in that lazar-house,
Lighting the desolation, woman fixed,
The fallen Angel still.

" Nor moving less,
They of the imaginative race unknown;
They of the flushed cheek and the withered heart,
Who felt the laurel-crown a wreath of fire;
They who but lived to catch the breath of fame,
Who wasted a passionate life before one shrine
And self-made idol; they who shrank to tell
Privation magnified by nerves diseased,
By the fine sense and apprehensive eye;
Self-reverent respect, and decent pride,
Wrenched from them by hard-griping misery."

The Enthusiast paused; he spake as one who felt
All he had pictured. Slowly he resumed:

" O, fathomless the marvels are cast up
From depths of life, revealments deeper lying
Than thought conceives; ethereal natures, sunk
From suffering into apathy, or slaved
To grosser sense, or crushed beneath the weight
Of tyrannies unheard by law.

" I watched
The scene with gratefulness yet fear; I saw
Passions that, flame-like, wasted while they fed;
Habits forsworn while riveted; with gleams
Remorseful shown for deeds perturbing wrought,
With the calm features and impassive brow.
Yet I felt solemn tones of harmony
From discords grow; restraint became delight,
When disciplined by love. I looked through films
Withdrawn from the soul's vision, and I felt
The ills of life from reinless impulse flowed;
I saw the light projected from Truth's brow
As she walked by in glory caught from God.

" But I have darker leaves to open; mine
To cast the veils into the dust, and show
The spiritual nakedness of man.
I joined with others in conventional life,
And forsook altars once inviolate.
For wherefore stand I here, save to confess
And disenthral me from illusions vain?
I fed on meditation while I erred;
I watched the eye projecting its false light,
Then while the tongue phrased subtleties unheard,
While I looked in the speaker's soul. I saw
Self-love the root around which passion coiled,
Where pride its yielded impotence concealed;
Where vanity the feeling petrified.
Yet I most blameful; for I lived among
Those I despised. I felt unholy joy
Even in the scorn I fed, the self-duped still,
For, to scorn aught, the inferior nature proved
Conscious I stood of my inferior state;
My soul assumed a mask before the eyes
Of innocence.

" I marked the visible time
Like a material image in the flame
Melting away, then, while the watchful sun
Looked out, and saw life weaving on her loom
Action forewritten, work by God approved.
I stood upon this palpable earth, and heard
On either side the ocean-voices raised
From past and future, two infinities:
I saw the hours, like sorrowing angels, flee
To heaven, rejected here. In haunts remote
I stretched my hands forth to all-seeing Nature,
And there confessed the weakness of her child.
These before God and man have been poured forth
In utterance of flame, until remorse
Was beautiful in her humility.
We are our self-made judge and criminal;
We make our fates by strong or failing will;
We sow with passion's hand our own decline,
Then marvel hope nor strength within us dwell,
That we but taste the ashes of life's tree,
The blossom and the fruit by us withheld.
I disciplined the present by the past,
Till duty became healthful exercise,
Grateful repose awarding, while years gleaned
The harvest of a life contemplative
I commune here with self; and mould my spirit
For the eternal change that waits us all.
Nature my nurse, her soberest hues are toned
By eyes that see through her clear veils the truth.

" O many are the priests of Nature's shrine,
Bearing their gratefulness with them to the grave!
All they felt, standing on earth's extreme brink,
Then when meek evening's purple frankincense
Stole upwards, entering their souls; when airs
Came down upon them as the breath of God,
From ether spotless as their gratitude!
Who heard the Voices of the Sea rise up
And speak to them, and treasured what they heard;
Who in the flowers and trees felt silent tongues
That read the daily lesson of their lives;
Who passed, and never told their joys, their love
Of hue, and sound, and motion, harmonies
Inwoven with their being; brooded o'er
In those all-blessid hours that made them one
With the great Spirit of the universe.

" To those high seers of God and nature, I,
Childlike as to a parent, am returned.
I walk these plains the old Phaenician trod,
Who left on those rock-altars orient names
Of venerated gods of elder time
Here, when the wind sleeps, and the clouds are caved,
I take my staff, and on these desolate wastes,
Like the Assyrian shepherd, pour my soul
Before the hosts of heaven. I have gazed
On the pole-star, and felt its fixedness;
I have dwelt on the dewy Pleiades,
Till my heart steeped itself in olden faiths;
And here I hail, from Bel-tor's granite throne,
The god whose name lives on his altar still.
Here, when autumnal winds howl through the glens
Like shouting men, I turn to yonder crag,
Where the armed warriors on Hesus called,
Clashing their iron shields; and here I watch
From Mist-tor's peak that olden Tyrian queen
Raising her lunar crescent o'er the shrine
Where lingers yet the shadow of her name.

O, I have proved enjoyment on this spot,
Fervent, deep heart-outpourings such as men,
The organic frame to Nature unattuned,
May apprehend not. Here I contemplate
Visible things, and impresses receive
Of forms that, entering, touch the vital soul.
I offer up my love to yonder sun,
Before whose altar, Magian-like, I bow
To the Ineffable. The empyrean air,
Star-eyed, or luminous with expressive light,
Valleys, and woods, and hills, fill me with joy
O'erflowing, till this bodily form, forgot,
Blends with the scene, and immortality
For me in life commences.

" But alas!
Spiritual vision faded, I have felt
Facile ascension, by winged impulse won,
Immortal beings only may retain
The weight of life on us recoils: I feel
Mutable as the things whereon I gaze;
That Nature is the same Eternal One,
But our weak life a morning and a day
That never can return.
" Whither is fled
The purple glow of youth that tinged these scenes?
The orient light that purpled earth and air?
Where the idolatry of heart I felt
While gazing on yon sun? the offering
Of voiceless adoration to the stars?
The veneration and the awe I proved
Before the mountain altar? — where is gone
The feeling of religion in the woods?
The exultation from the cataract,
And Ocean's sounding waters?
" Oh, they grew
Indwelling with my being, their founts were
Within my heart of hearts; the joy, the love,
Rose from the mighty world within my breast!
They were angelic spirits; with them, I
Walked on my way rejoicing.
" Yet my song
Closes in gratitude. I have regained
The quiet lost of the reflective heart,
That hears the music of the years flow on
Streamlike, to join the future with the past,
On-bearing spiritual freight; in faith
That looks beyond the shadow of the grave,
And most in that deep love to Nature felt,
A blessing now, which was a vague desire.
But imperfection is the name of life;
Joy rises and expires in sighs; we frame
And picture happiness that never was,
Based not on place nor time; I would have found
Some heart responding to my own; some eye
To draw its light from mine; some face to be
Record of undecaying memories.
The paradise I dreamed I have not known;
The mysteries I felt I have not solved;
The halo I projected was my own.
The soul shapes forth a cloud whose name is change,
And wastes itself on shadows glorious,
But substanceless as those I gaze on now."

We looked toward the sun, rayless and red,
Emerged from an o'ershadowing canopy
O'er a blue sky it hung, where fleecy flakes
Swelled like low hills along the horizon's verge,
Down-slanting to a sea of radiance,
Or infinite plains in luminous repose
Eastward the sulphurous thunder-vapours rolled,
While on their lurid sky beneath was marked,
The visibly-falling storm. The western rays
Braided its molten edges rising up
Like battlemented towers, their brazen fronts
Changing perturbedly, from which, half-seen,
The imaginative eye could body forth
Spiritual forms of thrones and fallen powers,
Reflected on their scarred and fiery fronts
The splendours left behind them.
Solemn Vision!
Typing the opposing principles which man
Found in his startled bosom gazing there
As if unconsciously, the Enthusiast spoke.

" Eternal Being, Thou, supreme as sole!
Whom, from thy wisdom manifest, and will
Revealed on earth, and outward shows of life,
I found within my heart. I shed the light
Of love and glory that I drew from Thee!
I made the happiness I could not find.
I sought it in the outward beautiful;
In solitude, in thoughts indefinite,
I found its aching want. I turned to love,
That gave it not, nor friendship; their roots grew
From selfishness; ambition less, nor power.
The aspiration was instilled from Thee,
Or rather Nature mirroring thyself.
From thy Sun-altar drawn; from autumn's hues,
From songs of woods; and streams, from Ocean-hymns,
And winter's stormier forms; but all were vague,
Language of unintelligible song,
Rising and falling through thy temple; choirs
Or wailing, or exulting; harmonies
I understood not, that in me inspired
Longings sufficing not the soul that yearned
Sublimer things to contemplate, or forms
Less fragile to repose on.
" Thee, I sought!
The craving impulse of this prescient life
To know the Ineffable; prophetic faith,
Found not in sophists' scrolls or vainer dreams.
My page was Nature's living face turned on me!
I read it by the light of setting suns;
I saw it in the luminiferous air,
Star-isled; I heard it from the prophet sounds
Of thy oracular Earth; I felt it stamped
Within my being, ineffaceably traced,
Ere thought or memory grew.

" But oh, if these
Still everlasting impulses in man
Prove not that I am deathless; if to err
Be human, aspiration but a want,
Deadened by life and time; if we no more
Behold the loved, the loving; if the ties
Of sympathies are buried in the grave;
If impresses I deemed inspired, the seeds
Implanted in our hearts by hope and faith,
Those breathing Angels, perish; yet let not
The soul that raised them, shade-like, pass away
And be no more seen. Thou, Almighty One!
Make me a spirit, or life, sharing not
Mutations of this nether sphere! accord
A bodiless form, a consciousness apart,
So that my o'erflowing love to Thee survive;
A wind to wander over haunts I loved;
To dwell around thy suns, a blessed ray,
Feeling their life; aught, mightiest Being! aught,
So I retain the adoring principle
Imperishable in me! this, my first,
Sole, latest prayer."
The Enthusiast ceased, his voice
Heightened, his cheek flushed, and his breast enlarged,
Like some great actor simulating throes
Of human passion, self-identity
Lost in the scene; but here no acting was,
Nought but o'erflowings of the naked soul
Bared to eternal Nature. He aside
Veiled his emotion; with a following glance
Affectionate, the Pastor looked on him,
As one who loved, respected, yet condemned.
The Fatalist gazed on him earnestly,
As on a living problem yet unsolved;
An interest profound couched in his eye;
Each line of his fixed brow relaxed, and softened
The inflexible character; the Pastor spoke.

" So ends a life, a day of light and shade,
O'er which the beautiful has substance shed,
With unsubstantial halo. He has hidden
Truth from us and himself unconsciously;
The veil with gentlest hand may be removed.
His strife with isolation has been faint,
The burden of our daily working life
Too facilely abandoned for the peace
Of solitude. His soul has poured itself
O'er mountain solitudes and desert wastes,
With fervid eloquence that we have felt;
Beyond the passionate feeling gains he aught?
The body in such hours less earthly made,
What yield they save vain yearnings for the ideal
That waste the gazer, weakening faculties
That healthier life had strengthened?
" Unto him
Religion, shadow-like, gave no support.
The soul asks human stimulants to bear
The weight of life; to hear the voice of love,
To live one of the family of man.
We cannot vent our joys on solitude;
Passion preys on itself, the heart becomes
Impassive as the scene. Wiser were he,
And happier among his homely flock,
A shepherd-Priest, than on untrodden plains
To watch the stars; to uphold the public weal
By words, or deeds, to emulate virtues round,
To hear the gush of gratitude that mocks
Sphere-music; to await with hope, to bear,
And to forbear; to merit deathless life,
A heritage beyond the wormy grave,
By sublimating dust from selfishness!

" So thought and laboured England's elder born;
So felt the wisest of the antique world,
Those lights of time that showed benighted men
Ascents that led to virtue; he whose life
Was wisdom's incarnation, Socrates;
And Thou, with reverence named, who call'st thyself
The Son of Man, on thy great mission here,
Didst teach us active duties, faith, and love;
Bade wisdom teach the knowledge of herself,
To sit at home with children round her knees!"