Such as can dawn upon the youthful only,
And is all hidden from their eyes bedazed
Who have too long upon this desert gazed.
Methought I walked forth, in my gladness lonely,
O'er breezy uplands, and o'er ridges high,
Which showed a broad green banquet to the eye,
A prosperous region, in a favoured clime,
Where flowed a noiseless river, far away,

By wooded hills, and plenteous meads that lay
Robed all in brightness, such as shone whilere.
Oh, how I sped upon my pleasant way,

Up hill and down, with footing swift and light
As lover's dances on a festal night!

Oh, what a balmy life was in the air!

Not gladlier soars the eagle into day,

Ere sunrise brightens on the loftiest mountains,
Not blither glide the fishes in their fountains
Than I, in that sweet trance made wondrous speed,
As if from every grief for ever freed.

Thus wandering many a mile unwearily,
Where pure delights and truant fancies lead,
Treading on sunshine, all that early morn,
I reached, erelong, a pleasant dale whereon,
From the far uplands, I had gazed in glee,

Till every buried joy again was born,

And

every withered flower of summers gone

Sent back its sweetness and its bloom to me:

I was a treasure-finder, and I won

Back a rich spoil from Time. Beneath that sun,
There saw I flocks at pasture, many a one,

Streamlets, and groves, and many a bloomy thorn;
And, through an ancient gate of mossy stone,

I passed into a park, a goodly place,

With trees full great and old. Within their boughs, How many a warbler reared its tiny race,

How many sweet throats, as I passed along,

Made offering to the morn with bounteous song!
But there the rooks held louder sovereignty,
Making a lulling noise that, to mine ear,
Made peace more stilly, solitude more dear.
A gray old tower, upon a hill hard by,
Stood like a haunted thing, in a green shroud
Of ivy; and the wallflower peeped on high
Where, in far days, had waved a banner proud;
And from the battlements where bows had twanged,
From whence the wakeful horn had sent its tone,
The flitting crows gave note that man was parted
Hundreds of years; and, where his steel had clanged,
Silence spoke deeper things than if, aloud,

The voices of the dead had burst away

From all the graves of earth, from all the clay

Which lived to that which lives. I gazed, mute-hearted,
On that most lonely wreck, and seemed to pry
Into dim secrets of lost memory,

Guessing at grievous things that are untold;

And when to the ribbed casements of thick stone
I raised my glance, I thought of beauteous eyes
That thence had looked on death. Thus, in sad guise,
I mused, nor knew wherefore that ruin hoary

Should move me so with its departed glory,

If 'twere not that, while earth still gaily shone,

Its lords, its captives all, were long years dead and gone. Soon, from beneath the high-arched canopy

Of leafy branches, wending onward, yet,

I saw the dwelling stead, a fair old house,
Built, as it seemed, ere gaudy pomp was known,
A place where kindly hearts might love to be,
Where upstart pride had no acquaintance met
With seemly courtesy.-There might you see,
Over the massy door a shield of arms,

Cut rudely in gray stone, two foxes showed
In saltier saliant; mullets three, in chief;
The crest, a hand grasping a weapon good;
And, underneath, I read, with glances brief:

Servitus Omnis Misería, on a scroll,
With the faint date of a long vanished year:
And as I gazed thereon, did then appear,
As 'twere upraised in presence of my soul,

A dream within a dream, men fierce and high,
The forms of those who bore that shield in war,
In the dread days, whose ancient battle-cry
Was still "The Fox!"-But now I passed within,
And found glad welcome from my goodly kin.
There was an aged lady at that board,

With a heart-smile that had been clouded never,
Gay in her eld, a lingerer with joy.

Of many a kind word hers were kindest ever,
And pleasing most to little maid or boy.
Methought she spoke of those whom to remember
Was to be happy; and, around the wall,

I saw them smiling from the church-yard still,
In youth's transcendant May, or age's bright December.
Some goodly hounds waited their master's will,
Crouched at his feet, and yearning for his call;
For he was one who like his sires gave chase
Unto delight, through field and flood, nor knew
The tawdry vanities of Fashion's crew,

Nor aped the apings of her puny race.

Old followers, too, I saw, that came in youth

To serve that pair, and had grown friends, in sooth, With servitude, so little was their toil,

And wrought with such a cheerful zeal the while.

Upon a window-pane, with diamond traced,
Was seen a fox-hunt storied by the hand
Of him who was the hero of that band,

And more it pleased me for his sake than aught
That Pynacker or Sneyders could have wrought.
When our repast was done, I rambled forth

In my long dream, and, as it seemed, drew near
To a small stream that scarcely veined the earth,
But I would not be stayed, and o'er its course
Prepared to bound, and follow my career.
'Twas a small feat, nor asked much art or force :
Steps one, two, three, and then a spring-Alas!
That running water has dissolved the spell!
With a wild start I shake my couch, and pass
Away for ever from that morn, and fell
Into the night. Twas winter, and the clouds
Wept their big tears against my window-frame;
While the great winds were combating on high
And o'er the earth and sea their terrors cast.
The stars were hidden; one wide gloom enshrouds,
One horror fills the regions of the sky.