Page:Lyrical ballads, Volume 2, Wordsworth, 1800.djvu/194

186 A work accomplish'd by the brotherhood

Of ancient mountains, or my ear was touch'd

With dreams and visionary impulses,

Is not for me to tell; but 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, is if she wish'd

To shelter from some object of her fear.

—And hence, long afterwards, when eighteen moons

Were wasted, as I chanc'd to walk alone

Beneath this rock, at sun-rise, on a calm

And silent morning, I sate down, and there,

In memory of affections old and true,

I chissel'd out in those rude characters

Joanna's name upon the living stone.

And I, and all who dwell by my fire-side

Have call'd the lovely rock, Joanna's Rock."

NOTE.

In Cumberland and Westmoreland are several Inscriptions upon the native rock which from the wasting of Time and