Page:The Prelude, Wordsworth, 1850.djvu/279

BOOK IX.] For liberty, against deluded men,

His fellow country-men; and yet most blessed

In this, that he the fate of later times

Lived not to see, nor what we now behold,

Who have as ardent hearts as he had then.

Along that very Loire, with festal mirth

Resounding at all hours, and innocent yet

Of civil slaughter, was our frequent walk;

Or in wide forests of continuous shade,

Lofty and over-arched, with open space

Beneath the trees, clear footing many a mile—

A solemn region. Oft amid those haunts,

From earnest dialogues I slipped in thought,

And let remembrance steal to other times,

When, o'er those interwoven roots, moss-clad,

And smooth as marble or a waveless sea,

Some Hermit, from his cell forth-strayed, might pace

In sylvan meditation undisturbed;

As on the pavement of a Gothic church

Walks a lone Monk, when service hath expired,

In peace and silence. But if e'er was heard,—

Heard, though unseen,—a devious traveller,

Retiring or approaching from afar

With speed and echoes loud of trampling hoofs