LINES RIttEN A FE MILES ABOVE tINtERN ABBEY, ON REVISItING trong>

    OF tOUR, July 13, 1798.

    Five years h

    Of ?ve long ers! and again I hear

    ters, rolling from tain-springs

    it inland murmur.[4]--Once again

    Do I beeep and lofty cliffs,

    hich on a wild secluded scene impress

    ts of more deep seclusion; and connect

    t of the sky.

    the day is come when I again repose

    his dark sycamore, and view

    ts of cottage-ground, tufts,

    ts,

    Among themselves,

    Nor, urb

    the wild green landscape. Once again I see

    ttle lines

    Of sportive oral farms

    Green to thes of smoke

    Sent up, in silence, from among trees,

    itain notice, as might seem,

    Of vagrant dhe houseless woods,

    Or of some s cave, where by his ?re

    t sits alone.

    t long,

    ty  been to me,

    As is a landscape to a blind mans eye:

    But oft, in lonely rooms, and mid the din

    Of toies, I o them,

    In ions s,

    Felt in t along t,

    And passing even into my purer mind

    itranquil restoration:--feelings too

    Of unremembered pleasure; such, perhaps,

    As may rivial in?uence

    On t best portion of a good mans life;

    tle, nameless, unremembered acts

    Of kindness and of love. Nor less, I trust,

    to t,

    Of aspect more sublime; t blessed mood,

    In wery,

    In w

    Of all telligible world