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Our pathway led us on to Rotha's banks;
And when we came in front of that tall rock
Which looks towards the eaft, I there ftopped fhort, And traced the lofty barrier with my eye
From base to fummit; fuch delight I found
To note in fhrub and tree, in ftone and flower,
That intermixture of delicious hues,
Along so vaft a surface, all at once,
In one impreffion, by connecting force
Of their own beauty, imaged in the heart.
-When I had gazed perhaps two minutes' space,
Joanna, looking in my eyes, beheld
That ravishment of mine, and laughed aloud.
The rock, like something starting from a sleep,
Took up the lady's voice, and laughed again :
That ancient woman feated on Helm-Crag
Was ready with her cavern: Hammar-Scar,
And the tall steep of Silver-How, sent forth
A noife of laughter; fouthern Loughrigg heard,
And Fairfield answered with a mountain tone :
Helvellyn far into the clear blue sky
Carried the lady's voice-old Skiddaw blew
His fpeaking trumpet :-back out of the clouds
Of Glaramara fouthward came the voice;
And Kirkstone toffed it from his misty head.
-Now whether (faid I to our cordial friend,
Who in the hey-day of astonishment
Smiled in my face) this were in fimple truth
A work accomplished by the brotherhood
Of ancient mountains, or my ear was touched
With dreams and vifionary impulfes,
Is not for me to tell; but fure I am
That there was a loud uproar in the hills:
And, while we both were listening, to my fide
The fair Joanna drew, as if she wished
To shelter from some object of her fear.
-And hence, long afterwards, when eighteen moons
Were wasted, as I chanced to walk alone
Beneath this rock, at funrise, on a calm
And filent morning, I sat down, and there,
In memory of affections old and true,
I chifelled out in those rude characters
Joanna's name upon the living stone.
And I, and all who dwell by my fire-fide,
Have called the lovely rock, JoAnna's Rock.”
T was an April morning: fresh and clear,
The rivulet delighting in its ftrength,
Ran with a young man's fpeed; and yet the voice
Of waters which the Winter had fupplied,
Was foftened down into a vernal tone.
The fpirit of enjoyment and defire,
And hopes and wishes, from all living things
Went circling, like a multitude of founds.
The budding groves appeared as if in hafte
To fpur the steps of June; as if their shades
Of various green were hindrances that stood
Between them and their object: yet, meanwhile,
There was fuch deep contentment in the air,
That every naked afh, and tardy tree
Yet leaflefs, feemed as though the countenance
With which it looked on this delightful day
Were native to the Summer.-Up the brook
I roamed in the confufion of my heart,
Alive to all things and forgetting all.
At length I to a fudden turning came
In this continuous glen, where down a rock
The ftream, fo ardent in its course before,
Sent forth fuch fallies of glad found, that all
Which I till then had heard, appeared the voice
Of common pleasure: beast and bird, the lamb,
The shepherd's dog, the linnet and the thrush,
Vied with this waterfall, and made a fong
Which, while I listened, seemed like the wild growth,
Or like fome natural produce of the air,
That could not cease to be. Green leaves were here;
But 'twas the foliage of the rocks, the birch,
The yew, the holly, and the bright green thorn,
With hanging islands of refplendent furze :
And on a fummit, diftant a short space,
By any who fhould look beyond the dell,
A fingle mountain-cottage might be seen.
I gazed, and gazed, and to myself I said,
"Our thoughts at least are ours; and this wild nook,
My EMMA, I will dedicate to thee."
Soon did the spot become my other home,
My dwelling, and my out-of-doors abode.
And of the fhepherds who have seen me there,