Page:Poems by William Wordsworth (1815) Volume 2.djvu/72

64 The pair were Servants of his eye

In their immortality;

They moved about in open sight,

To and fro, for his delight.

He knew the Rocks which Angels haunt

On the Mountains visitant;

He hath kenn'd them taking wing:

And the Caves where Faeries sing

He hath entered; and been told

By Voices how Men liv'd of old.

Among the Heavens his eye can see

Face of thing that is to be;

And, if Men report him right,

He can whisper words of might.

—Now another day is come,

Fitter hope, and nobler doom:

He hath thrown aside his Crook,

And hath buried deep his Book;

Armour rusting in his Halls

On the blood of Clifford calls;—

"Quell the Scot," exclaims the Lance,

Bear me to the heart of France,

Is the longing of the Shield—

Tell thy name, thou trembling Field;