Soften their glare before the mellow light;
  The skiffs, at anchor where with umbrage wide
  Yon chestnuts half the latticed boat-house hide,
  Shed from their sides, that face the sun’s slant beam,
  Strong flakes of radiance on the tremulous stream:  110
  Raised by yon travelling flock, a dusty cloud
  Mounts from the road, and spreads its moving shroud;
  The shepherd, all involved in wreaths of fire,
  Now shows a shadowy speck, and now is lost entire.

    Into a gradual calm the breezes [26] sink, [27] 115
  A blue rim borders all the lake’s still brink;
  There doth the twinkling aspen’s foliage sleep,
  And insects clothe, like dust, the glassy deep:  [28]
  And now, on every side, the surface breaks
  Into blue spots, and slowly lengthening streaks; 120
  Here, plots of sparkling water tremble bright
  With thousand thousand twinkling points of light;
  There, waves that, hardly weltering, die away,
  Tip their smooth ridges with a softer ray;
  And now the whole wide lake in deep repose 125
  Is hushed, and like a burnished mirror glows, [29]
  Save where, along the shady western marge,
  Coasts, with industrious oar, the charcoal barge. [30]

    Their panniered train a group of potters goad,
  Winding from side to side up the steep road; 130
  The peasant, from yon cliff of fearful edge
  Shot, down the headlong path darts with his sledge; [31]
  Bright beams the lonely mountain-horse illume
  Feeding ’mid purple heath, “green rings,” [K] and broom;
  While the sharp slope the slackened team confounds, 135
  Downward [L] the ponderous timber-wain resounds;
  [32] In foamy breaks the rill, with merry song,
  Dashed o’er [33] the rough rock, lightly leaps along;
  From lonesome chapel at the mountain’s feet,
  Three humble bells their rustic chime repeat; 140
  Sounds from the water-side the hammered boat;
  And ‘blasted’ quarry thunders, heard remote!

    Even here, amid the sweep of endless woods,
  Blue pomp of lakes, high cliffs and falling floods,
  Not undelightful are the simplest charms, 145
  Found by the grassy [34] door of mountain-farms.

    Sweetly ferocious, [M] round his native walks,
  Pride of [35] his sister-wives, the monarch stalks;
  Spur-clad his nervous feet, and firm his tread;
  A crest of purple tops the warrior’s head. [36] 150
  Bright sparks his black and rolling [37] eye-ball hurls
  Afar, his tail he closes and unfurls;
  [38] On tiptoe reared, he strains [39] his clarion throat,
  Threatened by faintly-answering farms remote: 
  Again with his shrill voice the mountain rings, 155
  While, flapped with conscious pride, resound his wings! [40]