Page:The Excursion, Wordsworth, 1814.djvu/206

180 When winds are blowing strong. The Traveller slaked

His thirst from Rill or gushing Fount, and thanked

The Naiad.—Sunbeams, upon distant Hills

Gliding apace, with Shadows in their train,

Might, with small help from fancy, be transformed

Into fleet Oreads sporting visibly.

The Zephyrs, fanning as they passed, their wings,

Lacked not, for love, fair Objects, whom they wooed

With gentle whisper. Withered Boughs grotesque,

Stripped of their leaves and twigs by hoary age,

From depth of shaggy covert peeping forth

In the low vale, or on steep mountain side;

And, sometimes, intermixed with stirring horns

Of the live Deer, or Goat's depending beard;

These were the lurking Satyrs, a wild brood

Of gamesome Deities! or Pan himself,

The simple Shepherd's awe-inspiring God."

No apter Strain could have been chosen: I marked

Its kindly influence, on the yielding brow

Of our Companion, gradually diffused;

While, listening, he had paced the noiseless turf,

Like one whose untired ear a murmuring stream