While thy brow youth's roses crown. MS. and 1820. ] [Footnote 268: 1827. ... political aspirants. 1820. ] [Footnote 269: 1827. Stranger, 'tis a sight of pleasure 1820. ] [Footnote 270: 1827. Traveller, ... 1820. ] [Footnote 271: 1827. See, when Commonwealth-vexations 1820. ] [Footnote 272: 1827. Such it is, and not a Haggard 1820. ] [Footnote 273: 1827. 'Tis by nature dull and laggard, A poor helpless Thing, 1820. ] THE PASS OF KIRKSTONE[CV] Composed June 27, 1817.--Published 1820 [Written at Rydal Mount. Thoughts and feelings of many walks in all weathers, by day and night, over this Pass, alone and with beloved friends.--I. F.] Included among the "Poems of the Imagination."--ED. I Within the mind strong fancies work, A deep delight the bosom thrills, Oft as I pass along the fork Of these fraternal hills: Where, save the rugged road, we find 5 No appanage of human kind, Nor hint of man; if stone or rock Seem not his handy-work to mock By something cognizably shaped; Mockery[274]--or model roughly hewn, 10 And left as if by earthquake strewn, Or from the Flood escaped: Altars for Druid service fit; (But where no fire was ever lit, Unless the glow-worm to the skies 15 Thence offer nightly sacrifice) Wrinkled Egyptian monument; Green moss-grown tower; or hoary tent; Tents of a camp that never shall be razed--[275] On which four thousand years have gazed! 20 II Ye plough-shares sparkling on the slopes! Ye snow-white lambs that trip Imprisoned 'mid the formal props Of restless ownership! Ye trees, that may[276] to-morrow fall 25 To feed the insatiate Prodigal![277] Lawns, houses, chattels, groves, and fields, All that the fertile valley shields;[278] Wages of folly--baits of crime, Of life's uneasy game the stake, 30 Playthings that keep the eyes awake Of drowsy, dotard Time;-- O care! O guilt!--O vales and plains, Here, 'mid[279] his own unvexed domains, A Genius dwells, that can subdue 35 At once all memory of You,-- Most potent when mists veil the sky, Mists that distort and magnify; While the coarse rushes, to the sweeping breeze, Sigh forth their ancient melodies! 40 III