Page:The Prelude, Wordsworth, 1850.djvu/174

152 All hearts were open, every tongue was loud

With amity and glee; we bore a name

Honoured in France, the name of Englishmen,

And hospitably did they give us hail,

As their forerunners in a glorious course;

And round and round the board we danced again.

With these blithe friends our voyage we renewed

At early dawn. The monastery bells

Made a sweet jingling in our youthful ears;

The rapid river flowing without noise,

And each uprising or receding spire

Spake with a sense of peace, at intervals

Touching the heart amid the boisterous crew

By whom we were encompassed. Taking leave

Of this glad throng, foot-travellers side by side,

Measuring our steps in quiet, we pursued

Our journey, and ere twice the sun had set

Beheld the Convent of Chartreuse, and there

Rested within an awful solitude:

Yes, for even then no other than a place

Of soul-affecting solitude appeared

That far-famed region, though our eyes had seen,

As toward the sacred mansion we advanced,

Arms flashing, and a military glare

Of riotous men commissioned to expel