Page:The Excursion, Wordsworth, 1814.djvu/219

193 Of human anthems,—choral song, or burst

Sublime of instrumental harmony,

To glorify the Eternal! What if these

Did never break the stillness that prevails

Here, if the solemn Nightingale be mute

And the soft Woodlark here did never chaunt

Her vespers, Nature fails not to provide

Impulse and utterance. The whispering Air

Sends inspiration from the shadowy heights,

And blind recesses of the caverned rocks;

The little Rills, and Waters numberless,

Inaudible by day-light, blend their notes

With the loud Streams: and often, at the hour

When issue forth the first pale Stars, is heard,

Within the circuit of this Fabric huge,

One Voice—the solitary Raven, flying

Athwart the concave of the dark-blue dome,

Unseen, perchance above the power of sight—

An iron knell! with echoes from afar,

Faint—and still fainter—as the cry, with which

The wanderer accompanies her flight

Through the calm region, fades upon the ear,

Diminishing by distance till it seemed