[Illustration: WASTWATER AND SCAWFELL.] THE RIVER DUDDON Return Content! for fondly I pursued, Even when a child, the Streams--unheard, unseen; Through tangled woods, impending rocks between; Or, free as air, with flying inquest viewed The sullen reservoirs whence their bold brood-- Pure as the morning, fretful, boisterous, keen, Green as the salt-sea billows, white and green-- Poured down the hills, a choral multitude! * * * * * Still glides the Stream, and shall for ever glide; The Form remains, the Function never dies; While we, the brave, the mighty, and the wise, We Men, who in our morn of youth defied The elements, must vanish;--be it so! Enough if something from our hands have power To live, and act, and serve the future hour; And if, as toward the silent tomb we go, Through love, through hope, and faith's transcendent dower, We feel that we are greater than we know. _The River Duddon_, WORDSWORTH. [Illustration: SILVERY DUDDON.] End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The English Lake District, by Various