256 ANGLING LITERATURE 



And ne'er did Hermit, with a purer breast, 



Amid the depths of sylvan silence pray, 



Than prayed we friends on that mild quiet day, 



By God and man beloved, the day of rest I 



All passions in our souls were lull'd to sleep, 



Ev'n by the power of Nature's holy bliss ; 



While Innocence her watch in peace did keep 



Over the spirit's thoughtful happiness 1 



We view'd the green earth with a loving look, 



Like us rejoicing in the gracious sky ; 



A voice came to us from the running brook 



That seem'd to breathe a grateful melody. 



Then all things seem'd embued with life and sense, 



And as from dreams with kindling smiles to wake, 



Happy in beauty and in innocence ; 



While, pleased our inward quiet to partake, 



Lay hush'd, as in a trance, the scarcely-breathing lake 



Yet think not, in this wild and fairy spot, 

 This mingled happiness of earth and heaven, 

 Which to our hearts this Sabbath-day was given, 

 Think not, that far-off friends were quite forgot. 

 Helm-crag arose before our half-closed eyes 

 With colours brighter than the brightening dove ; 

 Beneath that guardian mount a l cottage lies 

 Encircled by the halo breathed from Love ! 

 And sweet that dwelling 2 rests upon the brow 

 (Beneath its sycamore) of Orest-hill, 

 As if it smiled on Windermere below, 

 Her green recesses and her islands still ! 



1 At that time the residence of Mr. Wordsworth's family. 



2 The author's cottage on the banks of Windermere. 



