# Pocahontas and Other Poems (New York)/Grassmere and Rydal Water

GRASSMERE AND RYDAL WATER.
O vale of Grassmere! tranquil, and shut out From all the strife that shakes a jarring world, How quietly thy village roofs are bower'd In the cool verdure, while thy graceful spire Guardeth the ashes of the noble dead, And, like a fix'd and solemn sentinel, Holm-Crag looks down on all.  And thy pure lake, Spreading its waveless breast of crystal out 'Tween thee and us, pencil, nor lip of man May fitly show its loveliness. The soul Doth hoard it as a gem, and, fancy-led, Explore its curving shores, its lonely isle, That like an emerald clasp'd in crystal, sleeps.
Ho, stern Helvellyn! with thy savage cliffs And dark ravines, where the rash traveller's feet Too oft have wander'd far and ne'er return'd, Why dost thou press so close yon margin green, Like border-chieftain seeking for his bride Some cottage-maiden? Prince amid the hills, That each upon his feudal seat maintains Strict sovereignty, hast thou a tale of love For gentle Grassmere, that thou thus dost droop Thy plumed helmet o'er her, and peruse With such a searching gaze her mirror'd brow?
She listeneth coyly, and her guileless depths Are troubled at a tender thought from thee. And yet methinks some speech of love should dwell In scenes so beautiful. For not in vain, Nor with a feeble voice, doth He who spread Such glorious charms bespeak man's kindliness For all whom He hath made, bidding the heart Grasp every creature, with a warm embrace Of brotherhood.  Lo! what fantastic forms, In sudden change, are traced upon the sky. The sun doth subdivide himself, and shine On either side of an elongate cloud, Which, like an alligator huge and thin, Pierceth his disk. And then an ostrich seem'd Strangely to perch upon a wreath of foam, And gaze disdainful on the kingly orb, That lay o'erspent and weary. But he roused Up as a giant, and the welkin glow'd With rushing splendour, while his puny foes Vanish'd in air. Old England's oaks outstretch'd Their mighty arms, and took that cloudless glance Into their bosoms, as a precious thing To be remember'd long.  And so we turn'd, And through romantic glades pursued our way, Where Rydal Water spends its thundering force, And through the dark gorge makes a double plunge Abruptly beautiful. Thicket, and rock, And ancient summer-house, and sheeted foam All exquisitely blent, while deafening sound Of torrents battling with their ruffian foes
Fill'd the admiring gaze with awe, and wrought A dim forgetfulness of all beside.  Thee, too, I found within thy sylvan home, Whose music thrill'd my heart when life was new, Wordsworth! with wild enchantment circled round, In love with Nature's self, and she with thee. Thy ready hand, that from the landscape cull'd Its long familiar charms, rock, tree, and spire, With kindness half paternal leading on My stranger footsteps through the garden walk, Mid shrubs and flowers that from thy planting grew; The group of dear ones gathering round thy board— She, the first friend, still as in youth beloved— The daughter, sweet companion—sons mature, And favourite grandchild, with his treasured phrase— The evening lamp, that o'er thy silver locks And ample brow fell fitfully, and touch'd Thy lifted eye with earnestness of thought, Are with me as a picture, ne'er to fade Till death shall darken all material things.