Page:The Prelude, Wordsworth, 1850.djvu/148

126 A dignity, a smoothness, like the works

Of Grecian art, and purest poesy.

A precious treasure had I long possessed,

A little yellow, canvas-covered book,

A slender abstract of the Arabian tales;

And, from companions in a new abode,

When first I learnt, that this dear prize of mine

Was but a block hewn from a mighty quarry—

That there were four large volumes, laden all

With kindred matter, 'twas to me, in truth,

A promise scarcely earthly. Instantly,

With one not richer than myself, I made

A covenant that each should lay aside

The moneys he possessed, and hoard up more,

Till our joint savings had amassed enough

To make this book our own. Through several months,

In spite of all temptation, we preserved

Religiously that vow; but firmness failed,

Nor were we ever masters of our wish.

And when thereafter to my father's house

The holidays returned me, there to find

That golden store of books which I had left,

What joy was mine! How often in the course