Page:The Excursion, Wordsworth, 1814.djvu/129

103 Of transitory interest, and peeps round

For some rare Floweret of the hills, or Plant

Of craggy fountain; what he hopes for wins,

Or learns, at least, that 'tis not to be won:

Then, keen and eager, as a fine-nosed Hound

By soul-engrossing instinct driven along

Through wood or open field, the harmless Man

Departs, intent upon his onward quest!

Nor is that Fellow-wanderer, so deem I,

Less to be envied (you may trace him oft

By scars which his activity has left

Beside our roads and pathways, though, thank heav'en!

This covert nook reports not of his hand)

He, who with pocket hammer smites the edge

Of every luckless rock or stone that stands

Before his sight, by weather-stains disguised,

Or crusted o'er with vegetation thin,

Nature's first growth, detaching by the stroke

A chip, or splinter,—to resolve his doubts;

And, with that ready answer satisfied,

Doth to the substance give some barbarous name,

Then hurries on; or from the fragments picks

His specimen, if haply interveined