And make a stormy harbour for the winds. Far went these shepherds in their devious quest, From mountain ridges peeping as they passed Down into every nook; … … and many a sheep On height or bottom[347] did they see, in flocks Or single. And although it needs must seem Hard to believe, yet could they well discern Even at the utmost distance of two miles (Such strength of vision to the shepherd’s eye Doth practice give) that neither in the flocks Nor in the single sheep was what they sought. So to Helvellyn’s eastern side they went, Down looking on that hollow, where the pool Of Thirlmere flashes like a warrior’s shield His light high up among the gloomy rocks, With sight of now and then a straggling gleam On Armath’s[348] pleasant fields. And now they came, To that high spring which bears no human name, As one unknown by others, aptly called The fountain of the mists. The father stooped To drink of the clear water, laid himself Flat on the ground, even as a boy might do, To drink of the cold well. When in like sort His son had drunk, the old man said to him That now he might be proud, for he that day Had slaked his thirst out of a famous well, The highest fountain known on British land. Thence, journeying on a second time, they passed Those small flat stones, which, ranged by traveller’s hands In cyphers on Helvellyn’s highest ridge, Lie loose on the bare turf, some half-o’ergrown By the grey moss, but not a single stone Unsettled by a wanton blow from foot Of shepherd, man or boy. They have respect For strangers who have travelled far perhaps, For men who in such places, feeling there The grandeur of the earth, have left inscribed Their epitaph, which rain and snow And the strong wind have reverenced. … But soon as Luke, full ten years old, could stand Against the mountain blasts, and to the heights Not fearing toil, nor length of weary ways, He with his Father daily went, and they Were as companions, why should I relate That objects which the shepherd lov’d before Were dearer now? that from the Boy there came Feelings and emanations, things which were Light to the sun and music to the wind; And that the old man’s heart seem’d born again? Thus in his Father’s sight the Boy grew up; And now when he had reached his eighteenth year, He was his comfort and his daily hope. … Though often thus industriously they passed[349] Whole hours with but small interchange of speech, Yet were there times in which they did not want Discourse both wise and pleasant,[350] shrewd remarks Of moral prudence,[351] clothed in images Lively and beautiful, in rural forms, That made their conversation fresh and fair As is a landscape; and the shepherd oft