And now the topmost ridge appeared; "With hats in hand we paused for breath; Whilst o'er our cheeks and hair, With visitation fresh and sweet, For mountaineering roamers meet, "There woods, and hedgerows, parks, and fields Lay smiling at our feet; And we thought of the song you sang us aloud As the shadow of many an island cloud "We likened oldest things to new, And each with each did vie In scope and penetrating power, And fantasy of eye. "Who Shoreham gap? Who Shankenbury ring? Who yonder refuse burning? Who Deep-dene stable clock? or who Sees Ewhurst windmill turning? "We saw the wild-hawk wheel and wheel Pursued by felon crows, Freebooter of the feathered race Begirt by feathered foes. "Far down, there rushed a gateway through, With hurry and affright, A crowded flock of gallant sheep, A thousand fleeces bright; And we likened them to a troubled stream, A mill-race foaming white: "Then slowly pacing on the road, O'er sheep and shepherd hanging low; "We turned our eyes towards Dorking spire Reared high above the town; From forth the steeple went a chime We heard but nothing recked of time, "There rose the Danish camp; beyond, Old Evelyn's sylvan bower; P And, further yet, the heathery heights "And from the chalky pinnacle Save where a purple summer shower "And where the limekiln's milk-white reek Did creepingly appear, The sky was like a sapphire sea, Glassing its own profundity, The very sky-line sharp and clear. "Then, homeward turned, we took our way Through young-cut oak, and stunted box, And caught a momentary glimpse Of roaming wild cub-fox; "By Birchen-grove, and terraced wild Of stony-hearted Bramble-haugh, And Middle-hill with thorn-brakes set, And fern-grown Bullen-shaw. "The peewit cried, the partridge called Her half-fledged scattered brood; The curlew on the reverberant hill Loud crew the pheasant in the wood : "But nearing now the orchard homestead, Foredone with sport; but soon as we Beheld the chimney smoke, A gentle sigh of silent glee From every bosom broke." "Thanks for your tale; and now, good-night! Enough for all of work and play: Alike the evil and the joy Suffice unto the day. "But I must keep the word I gave To-morrow afternoon, If not a breeze disturb the trees, We'll fly the fire-balloon." Luxuriously you linger, Turn once to view the creeping hours But if in idleness you pore Till day-light runs to waste, I own no regulating force Of pendulum or springs; The glorious sun's diurnal course Inspires my chroniclings. Though gayer dials may go true, And be accounted treasures; Put faith in me, ye happy two, Whose days are spent in pleasures; |