Page:The Excursion, Wordsworth, 1814.djvu/189

163 Nor let the hallowed Powers, that shed from heaven

Stillness and rest, with disapproving eye

Look down upon your taper, through a watch

Of midnight hours, unseasonably twinkling

In this deep Hollow; like a sullen star

Dimly reflected in a lonely pool.

Take courage, and withdraw yourself from ways

That run not parallel to Nature's course.

Rise with the Lark! your Matins shall obtain

Grace, be their composition what it may,

If but with her's performed; climb once again,

Climb every day, those ramparts; meet the breeze

Upon their tops,—adventurous as a Bee

That from your garden thither soars, to feed

On new-blown heath; let yon commanding rock

Be your frequented Watch-tower; roll the stone

In thunder down the mountains: with all your might

Chase the wild Goat; and, if the bold red Deer

Fly to these harbours, driven by hound and horn

Loud echoing, add your speed to the pursuit:

So, wearied to your Hut shall you return,

And sink at evening into sound repose."

The Solitary lifted towards the hills