Page:The Prelude, Wordsworth, 1850.djvu/233

BOOK VIII.] Vanished and vanishing in subtle chase,

Too fine to be pursued; or standing forth

In no discordant opposition, strong

And gorgeous as the colours side by side

Bedded among rich plumes of tropic birds;

And mountains over all, embracing all;

And all the landscape, endlessly enriched

With waters running, falling, or asleep.

But lovelier far than this, the paradise

Where I was reared; in Nature's primitive gifts

Favoured no less, and more to every sense

Delicious, seeing that the sun and sky,

The elements, and seasons as they change,

Do find a worthy fellow-labourer there—

Man free, man working for himself, with choice

Of time, and place, and object; by his wants,

His comforts, native occupations, cares,

Cheerfully led to individual ends

Or social, and still followed by a train

Unwooed, unthought-of even—simplicity,

And beauty, and inevitable grace.

Yea, when a glimpse of those imperial bowers

Would to a child be transport over-great,