163
Nor let the hallowed Powers, that shed from heaven
Stillness and rest, with disapproving eye
Look down upon your taper, through a watch
Of midnight hours, unseasonably twinkling
In this deep Hollow; like a sullen star
Dimly reflected in a lonely pool.
Take courage, and withdraw yourself from ways
That run not parallel to Nature's course.
Rise with the Lark! your Matins shall obtain
Grace, be their composition what it may,
If but with her's performed; climb once again,
Climb every day, those ramparts; meet the breeze
Upon their tops,—adventurous as a Bee
That from your garden thither soars, to feed
On new-blown heath; let yon commanding rock
Be your frequented Watch-tower; roll the stone
In thunder down the mountains: with all your might
Chase the wild Goat; and, if the bold red Deer
Fly to these harbours, driven by hound and horn
Loud echoing, add your speed to the pursuit:
So, wearied to your Hut shall you return,
And sink at evening into sound repose."
