Page:The Excursion, Wordsworth, 1814.djvu/313

287 The Mother oft was seen to stand, or kneel

In the broad day, a weeping Magdalene.

Now she is not; the swelling turf reports

Of the fresh shower, but of poor Ellen's tears

Is silent; nor is any vestige left

Upon the pathway, of her mournful tread;

Nor of that pace with which she once had moved

In virgin fearlessness, a step that seemed

Caught from the pressure of elastic turf

Upon the mountains wet with morning dew,

In the prime hour of sweetest scents and airs.

—Serious and thoughtful was her mind; and yet,

By reconcilement exquisite and rare,

The form, port, motions of this Cottage-girl

Were such as might have quickened and inspired

A Titian's hand, addressed to picture forth

Oread or Dryad glancing through the shade

When first the Hunter's startling horn is heard

Upon the golden hills. A spreading Elm

Stands in our Valley, called ;

An Elm distinguished by that festive name,

From dateless usage which our Peasants hold

Of giving welcome to the first of May