A charm in what seem’d dead, he stops and sends

Message to tree and stone, yet weeps not, turns

Only one parting glance on what, review’d

After few years, heaps quick Eternity

On the bright Past, severing it from the brood

Of the moody Future and the Present’s pity:

So thick, so warm, the thoughts that press my heart,

And goad the gain their frequence fails to impart.

{40}

{40}

XL.

How loathing’s germ is longing, grief wooes joy,

’Tis but a comment on the hurrying world;

Man knows such shiftings and is only coy

To match them to the stage, whereon he’s hurl’d:

But thou, immutable substance of all beauty,

Shalt yet defeat the purpose of this change,

Shalt purge the essence of its vestment sooty,

And guide its explorations quick and strange;

Thou shalt inhabit and invest a soul,

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