Sad thoughts, avaunt!--partake we their blithe cheer Who gathered in betimes the unshorn flock To wash the fleece, where haply bands of rock, Checking the stream, make a pool smooth and clear As this we look on. Distant Mountains hear,[454] 5 Hear and repeat, the turmoil that unites Clamour of boys with innocent despites Of barking dogs, and bleatings from strange fear. And what if Duddon's spotless flood receive[455] Unwelcome mixtures as the uncouth noise 10 Thickens, the pastoral River will forgive Such wrong; nor need _we_ blame the licensed joys, Though false to Nature's quiet equipoise: Frank are the sports, the stains are fugitive. FOOTNOTES: [Footnote FZ: "This tradition appears to have completely died out. I asked many old inhabitants of the place if they had ever heard such a story, but it was quite new to them. The scene of the tragedy is not, however, very difficult to identify. There are very few 'hidden pools' in this part of the stream; it is mostly a shallow, brawling brook. I have carefully tracked the stream from Donnerdale Bridge to Ulpha Bridge, and can only find two places which at all answer to the description given in the sonnet. One of these is opposite the 'Traveller's Rest' inn, the other, is a little higher up. This latter is a deep and placid pool, situated half way down a curious corridor, known as 'Long Dub,' where the stream flows for some distance in a straight line between walls of rough mountain slate, the strata having been tilted almost at right angles to their natural position. Here a little rill tumbles into the Duddon by a miniature cascade, and the pool is sheltered and darkened by oak and beech--a not unlikely spot to have inspired the sonnet." (Herbert Rix.)] [Footnote GA: "The pool under Ulpha Bridge has for many generations been used for sheep-washing. The sheep from Birks Farm are now (1894) washed there every year. If we suppose the poet, in one of his frequent journeys down the valley, to have paused upon the bridge to witness this pastoral sight, the local order of the Sonnets is maintained." (Herbert Rix.)] XXIV THE RESTING-PLACE Mid-noon is past;--upon the sultry mead No zephyr breathes, no cloud its shadow throws: If we advance unstrengthened by repose, Farewell the solace of the vagrant reed! This Nook[GB]--with woodbine hung and straggling weed, 5 Tempting recess as ever pilgrim chose, Half grot, half arbour--proffers to enclose Body and mind, from molestation freed, In narrow compass--narrow as itself: Or if the Fancy, too industrious Elf, 10 Be loth that we should breathe awhile exempt From new incitements friendly to our task, Here[456] wants not stealthy prospect, that may tempt Loose Idless to forego her wily mask. VARIANTS: [Footnote 454: 1845.