Page:Lyrical ballads, Volume 2, Wordsworth, 1800.djvu/126

118 At any hour he chose, the Knight forthwith

Desisted, and the quarry and the mound

Are monuments of his unfinish'd task.——

The block on which these lines are trac'd, perhaps,

Was once selected as the corner-stone

Of the intended pile, which would have been

Some quaint odd play-thing of elaborate skill,

So that, I guess, the linnet and the thrush,

And other little builders who dwell here,

Had wonder'd at the work. But blame him not,

For old Sir William was a gentle Knight

Bred in this vale to which he appertain'd

With all his ancestry. Then peace to him

And for the outrage which he had devis'd

Entire forgiveness.——But if thou art one

On fire with thy impatience to become

An Inmate of these mountains, if disturb'd

By beautiful conceptions, thou hast hewn

Out of the quiet rock the elements