Verse > William Wordsworth > Complete Poetical Works
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THE RIVER DUDDON

A SERIES OF SONNETS, 1820.

XVII. RETURN

          A DARK plume fetch me from yon blasted yew,
          Perched on whose top the Danish Raven croaks;
          Aloft, the imperial Bird of Rome invokes
          Departed ages, shedding where he flew
          Loose fragments of wild wailing, that bestrew
          The clouds and thrill the chambers of the rocks;
          And into silence hush the timorous flocks,
          That, calmly couching while the nightly dew
          Moistened each fleece, beneath the twinkling stars
          Slept amid that lone Camp on Hardknot's height,             10
          Whose Guardians bent the knee to Jove and Mars:
          Or, near that mystic Round of Druid frame
          Tardily sinking by its proper weight
          Deep into patient Earth, from whose smooth breast it came!


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