Verse > William Wordsworth > Complete Poetical Works
  PREVIOUS NEXT  
CONTENTS      BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD


MEMORIALS OF A TOUR IN SCOTLAND, 1803

IX. ADDRESS TO KILCHURN CASTLE, UPON LOCH AWE

          CHILD of loud-throated War! the mountain Stream
          Roars in thy hearing; but thy hour of rest
          Is come, and thou art silent in thy age;
          Save when the wind sweeps by and sounds are caught
          Ambiguous, neither wholly thine nor theirs.
          Oh! there is life that breathes not; Powers there are
          That touch each other to the quick in modes
          Which the gross world no sense hath to perceive,
          No soul to dream of. What art Thou, from care
          Cast off--abandoned by thy rugged Sire,                     10
          Nor by soft Peace adopted; though, in place
          And in dimension, such that thou might'st seem
          But a mere footstool to yon sovereign Lord,
          Huge Cruachan, (a thing that meaner hills
          Might crush, nor know that it had suffered harm;)
          Yet he, not loth, in favour of thy claims
          To reverence, suspends his own; submitting
          All that the God of Nature hath conferred,
          All that he holds in common with the stars,
          To the memorial majesty of Time                             20
          Impersonated in thy calm decay!
          Take, then, thy seat, Vicegerent unreproved!
          Now, while a farewell gleam of evening light
          Is fondly lingering on thy shattered front,
          Do thou, in turn, be paramount; and rule
          Over the pomp and beauty of a scene
          Whose mountains, torrents, lake, and woods, unite
          To pay thee homage; and with these are joined,
          In willing admiration and respect,
          Two Hearts, which in thy presence might be called           30
          Youthful as Spring.--Shade of departed Power,
          Skeleton of unfleshed humanity,
          The chronicle were welcome that should call
          Into the compass of distinct regard
          The toils and struggles of thy infant years!
          Yon foaming flood seems motionless as ice;
          Its dizzy turbulence eludes the eye,
          Frozen by distance; so, majestic Pile,
          To the perception of this Age, appear
          Thy fierce beginnings, softened and subdued                 40
          And quieted in character--the strife,
          The pride, the fury uncontrollable,
          Lost on the aerial heights of the Crusades!


CONTENTS      BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD


  PREVIOUS NEXT  
 
Loading
Click here to shop the Bartleby Bookstore.

Shakespeare · Bible · Strunk · Anatomy · Nonfiction · Quotations · Reference · Fiction · Poetry
© 1993–2014 Bartleby.com · [Top 150] · Subjects · Titles · Authors