ADDISON S SEAT. 221
Here, in these cloistered cells, for after times, Meet him who museth here.
I sat me down
Upon a quiet seat, o erhung with boughs Umbrageous, at my feet a dimpling stream, The silver Cherwell ; verdant meadows spread Broadly around, where roamed the antlered deer At pleasure, while serene a snowy flock Reposed or ruminated.
Did some cloud
Burst with an inborn melody ? Or harp, Instinct with numbers of the minstrel king, Pour forth an echo strain ? It was thy hymn, O Addison ! and this the chosen spot Where thou didst sing of Him, who should prepare Thy pasture, and by living waters lead, And the unslumbering Shepherd of thy soul Be evermore.
And then there seemed to pass A shadowy host, the great of other days, Arm linked in arm, in high communion sweet, Blessing the haunts where Learning forged for them Imperishable armor!
But we turned
From their entrancing company, to walk Among the living, and to scan the tomes In halls and alcoves hoarded, row on row, Which, in their plenitude, might half confuse The arithmetician s skill ; and see the light With rainbow pencil through the storied panes