Were I a cloud, o'er thee o Keswic-lake!
Oft would I hover on the summer air,

And in thy calmest nook
Reflect my varying form.


Now would I nestle on thy cliffy sides,
Or with yon eagles gage on daring wing

The yet unfathom'd depth
Of ether's shoreless sea;

Now floating low between thy opening hills,
Where many a village still Content has built, 10

Diffuse my flowing vest
Thy bending banks along:


There when the yellow dawn o'erhangs *Lodore,
(Ere yet the Genius of the sounding flood

With yellow glory crowns
The cataract of his pride,)


I'll wring the dew-drops from my golden curls,
Or from my light wings shake bespangled rain,

Thy fields and trembling groves
In livelier green to clothe :


There, when the fading Sun draws near the tvale,
From whose blue lap the oozy-pillowed waves

Of sheety Basenthwaite
At hazy distance gleam,)


I'll weave the crimson lining of the tent,
Where jealous Evening from the musing eye

Pavilions secretly
His couch of dumb


* Lodore, a mountain noted for the waterfall on its side, lies

to the east of lake Keswic.

of Lake Basenthwaite stretches westward from Keswic.


Were I a mist, I'd arch'a dusky vault
Across the pillaring crags of Borro-dale,

And strew with sullen gloom
Its gray fantastic rocks,

Unbeaming thence the sultry *noon to him,
Whom virgin-beauty's timid eye pursues

As in the fstrife of oars
He plies the fervid arm ;


Or on the lonely Ness from chilly urn
Pour vapour, and with dewy fingers hang

A dim-depending veil
About its mossy head,

* Borrodale is the southern boundary of the Lake. The peninsulated mountain Borro-ness almost blocks its entrance; within this is a black-lead mine, (see line 126) for the better working of which, a Roman fortress built near the summit of the Ness was pulled down.

* In August, an annual prize is rowed for on the lake.

« ForrigeFortsett »