Page:The Prelude, Wordsworth, 1850.djvu/206

184 Must needs bring back the moment when we first,

Ere the broad world rang with the maiden's name,

Beheld her serving at the cottage inn,

Both stricken, as she entered or withdrew,

With admiration of her modest mien

And carriage, marked by unexampled grace.

We since that time not unfamiliarly

Have seen her,—her discretion have observed,

Her just opinions, delicate reserve,

Her patience, and humility of mind

Unspoiled by commendation and the excess

Of public notice—an offensive light

To a meek spirit suffering inwardly.

From this memorial tribute to my theme

I was returning, when, with sundry forms

Commingled—shapes which met me in the way

That we must tread—thy image rose again,

Maiden of Buttermere! She lives in peace

Upon the spot where she was born and reared;

Without contamination doth she live

In quietness, without anxiety:

Beside the mountain chapel, sleeps in earth

Her new-born infant, fearless as a lamb

That, thither driven from some unsheltered place,