202 ANGLING. 



TO * 



On her first Ascent to the Summit of Helvellyn. 



Inmate of a mountain dwelling, 



Thou hast clomb aloft, and gazed, 

 From the watch-towers of Helvellyn, 



Awed, delighted, and amazed ! 



Potent was the spell that bound thee, 



Not unwilling to obey, 

 For blue Ether's arms flung round thee, 



Stilled the pantings of dismay. 



Lo ! the dwindled woods and meadows ! 



What a vast abyss is there ! 

 Lo ! the clouds, the solemn shadows, 



And the glistenings, heavenly fair! 



And a record of commotion 



Which a thousand ridges yield ; 

 Ridge, and gulf, and distant ocean, 



Gleaming like a silver shield ! 



Take thy flight ! possess, inherit 



Alps or Andes they are thine ! 

 With the morning's roseate spirit, 



Sweep their length of snowy line ; 



Or survey the bright dominions 



In the gorgeous colours drest, 

 Flung from off the purple pinions, 



Evening spreads throughout the west ! 



Thine are all the choral fountains 



Warbling in each sparry vault, 

 Of the untrodden lunar mountains ; 



Listen to their songs ! or halt, 



dalian Laurels," stealing from " Poesy," (a word we like not well,) 

 a borrowed tongue, 



" To cheer the itinerant on whom she pours 

 Her spirit, while he crosses lonely moors, 

 Or, musing, sits forsaken lochs along." 



