I heard the torrents leap and gush
O'er channeled rock and broken bush;
I saw the white-walled distant town,
And whiter sails go skimming down; 340
And then there was a little isle,
Which in my very face did smile,

The only one in view:

A small green isle, it seemed no more,
Scarce broader than my dungeon floor; 345
But in it there were three tall trees,
And o'er it blew the mountain breeze,
And by it there were waters flowing,
And on it there were young flowers grow-
ing,

Of gentle breath and hue.

The fish swam by the castle wall,
And they seemed joyous, each and all;
The eagle rode the rising blast,
Methought he never flew so fast
As then to me he seemed to fly,
And then new tears came in my eye,
And I felt troubled-and would fain
I had not left my recent chain;
And when I did descend again,
The darkness of my dim abode
Fell on me as a heavy load;

350

355

360

It was as is a new-dug grave,

As if the clouds its echo would repeat; And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before!

Arm! arm! it is!-it is-the cannon's opening roar!

380

With spiders I had friendship made,

Within a windowed niche of that high hall

And watched them in their sullen trade,
Had seen the mice by moonlight play,
And why should I feel less than they?
We were all inmates of one place,
And I, the monarch of each race,
Had power to kill-yet, strange to tell!
In quiet we had learned to dwell-

Sate Brunswick's fated chieftain; he did

385

But soon in me shall loneliness renew 650 Thoughts hid, but not less cherished than of old,

Ere mingling with the herd had penned me in their fold.

To fly from, need not be to hate, mankind;

All are not fit with them to stir and toil,
Nor is it discontent to keep the mind 655
Deep in its fountain, lest it overboil
In the hot throng, where we become the
spoil

Of our infection, till too late and long We may deplore and struggle with the coil,

In wretched interchange of wrong for

Nothing to loathe in Nature, save to be A link reluctant in a fleshly chain, 685 Classed among creatures, when the soul can flee,

And with the sky, the peak, the heaving plain

Of ocean, or the stars, mingle, and not in vain.

All heaven and earth are still-though not in sleep,

But breathless, as we grow when feeling most;

And silent, as we stand in thoughts too deep:

835 All heaven and earth are still: from the high host

Of stars, to the lulled lake and mountain-coast,

All is concentered in a life intense, Where not a beam, nor air, nor leaf is lost,

But hath a part of being, and a sense 840 Of that which is of all Creator and Defence.