2. No sound is uttered, — but a deep Herds range along the mountain side; Thine is the tranquil hour, purpureal Eve! That this magnificence is wholly thine! From worlds not quickened by the sun A portion of the gift is won; An intermingling of Heaven's pomp is spread On ground which British shepherds tread! 3. And, if there be whom broken ties Yon hazy ridges to their eyes Present a glorious scale, Climbing suffused with sunny air, Wings at my shoulder seem to play; On those bright steps that heaven-ward raise Come forth, ye drooping old men, look abroad, And wake him with such gentle heed As may attune his soul to meet the dower 4. Such hues from their celestial Urn This glimpse of glory, why renewed? If aught unworthy be my choice, From THEE if I would swerve, Oh, let thy grace remind me of the light 'Tis past, the visionary splendour fades; And night approaches with her shades. Note. The multiplication of mountain-ridges, described, at the commencement of the third stanza of this Ode, as a kind of Jacob's Ladder, leading to Heaven, is produced either by watery vapours, or sunny haze; - in the present instance, by the latter cause. Allusions to the Ode, entitled "Intimations of Immortality," at the conclusion of the fourth volume, pervade the last stanza of the foregoing Poem, XXXVII. LINES, COMPOSED A FEW MILES ABOVE TINTERN ABBEY, ON REVISITING THE BANKS OF THE WYE DURING A TOUR. JULY 13, 1798. FIVE years have past; five summers, with the length Of five long winters! and again I hear These waters, rolling from their mountain-springs With a sweet inland murmur. Once again Do I behold these steep and lofty cliffs, That on a wild secluded scene impress Thoughts of more deep seclusion; and connect * The river is not affected by the tides a few miles above Tintern. Are clad in one green hue, and lose themselves door; These beauteous Forms, Through a long absence, have not been to me As is a landscape to a blind man's eye: But oft, in lonely rooms, and 'mid the din Of towns and cities, I have owed to them, In hours of weariness, sensations sweet, Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart; And passing even into my purer mind, With tranquil restoration:- feelings too Of unremembered pleasure: such, perhaps, As have no slight or trivial influence On that best portion of a good man's life, His little, nameless, unremembered acts |