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Of sm and aspect too magnificent To be destroyed. But worthier still of note Are those fraternal Four of Borrowdale, joined in one solemn and capacious grove; Huge trunks!—and each particular trunk a growth Of intertwisted fibres serpentine Troiling, and inveterately convolved, No uninformed with Phantasy, and looks That threaten the profane;—a pillared shade, Twn whose grassless floor of red-brown hue, # shellings from the pining umbrage tinged Perennially—beneath whose sable roof 0 longs, as if for festal purpose, decked With unrejoicing berries, ghostly Shapes May meet at noontide—Fear and trembling Hope, Silence and Foresight—Death the Skeleton And Time the Shadow, --there to celebrate, As in a natural temple scattered o'er With altars undisturbed of mossy stone, United worship; or in mute repose Tolie, and listem to the mountain flood Mimuring from Glaramara's inmost caves.
VIEW FROM THE TOP OF BLACK COMB*.
This Height a ministering Angel might select: For from the summit of BLAck Comb (dread name Derived from clouds and storms 1) the amplest range Of unobstructed prospect may be seen That British ground commands: — low dusky tracts, Where Trent is nursed, far southward Cambrian Hills To the south-west, a multitudinous show; Ali in a line of eye-sight linked with these, The hary Peaks of Scotland that give birth To Two's Stream, to Annan, Tweed, and Clyde;— "wing the quarter whence the sun comes forth "ol Mountains rough with crags; beneath, o at the imperial Station's western base, Win Ocean, breaking audibly, and stretched *imosilent regions blue and pale; — "visibly engirding Mona's Isle ** we left the Plain, before our sight * like a lossy Mount, uplifting slowly *we the convex of the watery globe) o * view the cultured fields that streak "hilable shores; but now appears A dwindled object, and submits to lie * Spectator's feet—Yon azure Ridge, *** Perishable cloud, Or, there ro ***hold the line of Erin's coast, '* Comb stan, at the southern extremity of Cumber
"tommands a - Britain * extensive view than any other point in
Land sometimes by the roving shepherd-swain
It seems a day (I speak of one from many singled out) One of those heavenly days which cannot die; When, in the eagerness of boyish hope, I left our Cottage-threshold, sallying forth With a huge wallet o'er my shoulders slung, A nutting-crook in hand, and turned my steps Toward the distant woods, a Figure quaint, Tricked out in proud disguise of cast-off weeds Which for that service had been husbanded, By exhortation of my frugal Dame; Motley accoutrement, of power to smile At thorns, and brakes, and brambles, – and, in truth, More ragged than need was: Among the woods, And o'er the pathless rocks, I forced my way Until, at length, I came to one dear nook Unvisited, where not a broken bough Drooped with its withered leaves, ungracious sign Of devastation, but the hazels rose Tall and erect, with milk-white clusters hung, A virgin scene—A little while I stood, " Breathing with such suppression of the heart As joy delights in ; and, with wise restraint Voluptuous, fearless of a rival, eyed The banquet, — or beneath the trees I sate Among the flowers, and with the flowers I played, A temper known to those, who, after long And weary expectation, have been blest With sudden happiness beyond all hope. — Perhaps it was a bower beneath whose leaves The violets of five seasons re-appear And fade, unseen by any human eye; Where fairy water-breaks do murmur on For ever, — and I saw the sparkling foam, And with my cheek on one of those green stones That, fleeced with moss, beneath the shady trees, Lay round me, scattered like a flock of sheep, I heard the murmur and the murmuring sound, In that sweet mood when pleasure loves to pay Tribute to ease; and, of its joy secure, The heart luxuriates with indifferent things, Wasting its kindliness on stocks and stones, And on the vacant air. Then up I rose, And dragged to earth both branch and bough, with crash