Page:The Prelude, Wordsworth, 1850.djvu/246

224 (Whene'er the summer sun, declining, smote

A smooth rock wet with constant springs) was seen

Sparkling from out a copse-clad bank that rose

Fronting our cottage. Oft beside the hearth

Seated, with open door, often and long

Upon this restless lustre have I gazed,

That made my fancy restless as itself.

'Twas now for me a burnished silver shield

Suspended over a knight's tomb, who lay

Inglorious, buried in the dusky wood:

An entrance now into some magic cave

Or palace built by fairies of the rock;

Nor could I have been bribed to disenchant

The spectacle, by visiting the spot.

Thus wilful Fancy, in no hurtful mood,

Engrafted far-fetched shapes on feelings bred

By pure Imagination: busy Power

She was, and with her ready pupil turned

Instinctively to human passions, then

Least understood. Yet, 'mid the fervent swarm

Of these vagaries, with an eye so rich

As mine was through the bounty of a grand

And lovely region, I had forms distinct

To steady me: each airy thought revolved

Round a substantial centre, which at once