Page:Lyrical ballads, Volume 2, Wordsworth, 1800.djvu/125

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Stranger! this hillock of mishapen stones

Is not a ruin of the ancient time,

Nor, as perchance thou rashly deem'st, the Cairn

Of some old British Chief: 'tis nothing more

Than the rude embryo of a little dome

Or pleasure-house, which was to have been built

Among the birch-trees of this rocky isle.

But, as it chanc'd, Sir William having learn'd

That from the shore a full-grown man might wade,

And make himself a freeman of this spot