Classic Poem

Oft have I wandered by the pebbly shore,
And in the woods have had mine own delight,
And quiet pleasure.
Far-seen expanses, both by day and night,
Have warmed my sight,
And caused my longing spirit soar
From common sounds up to a lofty measure.

Yet never did I greet the clear sublime,
Until with patient steps I clomb thy steep,
And looked beyond
A thousand forests yielding music deep;
And saw the thunder leap
In mist from cataracts, nor heard their rhyme
Tired in dim distance though mine ear was fond.

Out o'er the pleasant villages I looked,
While morning swept the haze from meadows wide.
And, far away,
In op'ning woods I saw where Bonnechère brooked
To swell great Uttwa's tide,
And where large streams grew small, and little rills
Were dimmed from sight afar by distance grey,
Wedged in the heavens stood the dark blue hills.

What antique forms I wot lay undescried.
Beyond those hills in lonely valleys deep
Sweet Fancy drew—
Of captive maidens weeping side by side,
Or fairy hermitages lost in sleep.
For there the distance blent with dim romance,
And clasped my thought away in regions old.
I saw the shadows creep
From ancient days, while dream-like forms anew
Bestrode the earth, and, in a waking trance,
Lived o'er again the wondrous age of gold.

O happy, happy mount, which doth extend
A wild outlying space for roving thought;
Spurning the plain
Where sorrowing eyes and rankling eares abide;
Where hapless men in weary tangle caught,
Narrow life's circumstance to purpose base:
Thee would I ever seek to ease my pain!
Nor long, while up thy silent slopes I wend,
Or loll in idlesse on thy swarthy side,
For Heav'n to take me from the summer days,
Away from thee to view Creation wide.