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Carried the Lady's voice, old Skiddaw blew
His speaking-trumpet; back out of
Of Glaramara southward came the voice;
And Kirkstone tossed it from his misty head.
"Now whether" (said I to our cordial friend,
Who in the hey-day of astonishment Smiled in my face), "this were in simple truth A work accomplished by the brotherhood
Of ancient mountains, or my ear was touched With dreams and visionary impulses To me alone imparted, sure I am That there was a loud uproar in the hills."
And while we both were listening, to my side
The fair Joanna drew, as if she wished
To shelter from some object of her fear.
And hence long afterwards, when eighteen moons
Were wasted, as I chanced to walk alone Beneath this rock, at sunrise, on a calm
And silent morning, I sat down, and there,
In memory of affections old and true, I chiselled out in those rude characters
Joanna's name deep in the living
And I and all who dwell by my fireside Have called the lovely rock, Joanna's Rock."
HENCE, vain deluding joys,
The brood of Folly without father bred, How little you bestead,
Or fill the fixed mind with all your toys! Dwell in some idle brain, And fancies fond with gaudy shapes possess,
His daughter she (in Saturn's reign,
Thy rapt soul sitting in thine eyes:
Spare Fast, that oft with Gods doth diet,
And hears the Muses in a ring
But first, and chiefest, with thee bring,
Him that yon soars on golden wing,
Gently o'er th' accustomed oak; Sweet bird, that shunn'st the noise of folly,
Most musical, most melancholy! Thee, chauntress, oft the woods among
I woo, to hear thy even-song;
And oft, as if her head she bow'd,
Entice the dewy-feather'd Sleep; And let some strange mysterious dream
Wave at his wings in aery stream
Dissolve me into ecstasies, And bring all heav'n before mine eyes.
And may at last my weary age
FROM THE BOTHIE OF TOBER NA VUOLICH.
THERE is a stream, I name not its name, lest inquisitive tourist Hunt it, and make it a lion, and get it at last into guide-books, Springing far off from a loch unexplored in the folds of great mountains,
Falling two miles through rowan and stunted alder, enveloped Then for four more in a forest of
pine, where broad and ample Spreads, to convey it, the glen with
heathery slopes on both sides: Broad and fair the stream, with occasional falls and narrows; But, where the glen of its course approaches the vale of the river,