Ix

As when along a level land we pace, The scene, from where our forward-moving feet Touch ground, to where the earth and heaven greet, Seems to revolve in some vast wheel’s embrace, Whose spoke-wise turning slow the eye can trace From near-by hedges, wayside trees, that fleet With rick and steading by, till all lines meet And motion dwindles in far distant space-- There haply some majestic mountain mass By contrast travels with us as we go, And doth across the spirit, as we pass, The feeling of its omnipresence throw-- So o’er man’s fleeting and particular fate For ever omnipresent broods the State.

HESEPE, 30th June