The meteors make of it a favourite haunt: 
  The star of Jove, so beautiful and large 10
  In the mid heavens, is never half so fair
  As when he shines above it.  ’Tis in truth
  The loneliest place we have among the clouds. 
  And She who dwells with me, whom I have loved
  With such communion, that no place on earth 15
  Can ever be a solitude to me,
  Hath to this lonely Summit given my Name. [2]

* * * * *

VARIANTS ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1: 

1840.

  ... this Cliff, ... 1800.]

[Variant 2: 

1815.

  Hath said, this lonesome Peak shall bear my Name. 1800.]

Stone-Arthur is the name of the hill, on the east side of the Vale of Grasmere, opposite Helm Crag, and between Green Head Ghyll and Tongue Ghyll.—­Ed.

* * * * *

“A NARROW GIRDLE OF ROUGH STONES AND CRAGS”

Composed 1800.—­Published 1800

[The character of the eastern shore of Grasmere Lake is quite changed since these verses were written, by the public road being carried along its side.  The friends spoken of were Coleridge and my Sister, and the facts occurred strictly as recorded.—­I.F.]

  A narrow girdle of rough stones and crags,
  A rude and natural causeway, interposed
  Between the water and a winding slope
  Of copse and thicket, leaves the eastern shore
  Of Grasmere safe in its own privacy:  [A] 5
  And there myself and two beloved Friends,
  One calm September morning, ere the mist
  Had altogether yielded to the sun,
  Sauntered on this retired and difficult way. 
—­Ill suits the road with one in haste; but we 10
  Played with our time; and, as we strolled along,
  It was our occupation to observe
  Such objects as the waves had tossed ashore—­
  Feather, or leaf, or weed, or withered bough,
  Each on the other heaped, along the line 15
  Of the dry wreck.  And, in our vacant mood,
  Not seldom did we stop to watch some tuft
  Of dandelion seed or thistle’s beard,
  That skimmed the surface of the dead calm lake,
  Suddenly halting now—­a lifeless stand! 20
  And starting off again with freak as sudden; [1]
  In all its sportive wanderings, all the while,
  Making report of an invisible breeze
  That was its wings, its chariot, and its horse,
  Its playmate, rather say, its moving soul. [2] 25
  —­And often, trifling with a privilege
  Alike indulged to all, we paused, one now,
  And now the other, to point out, perchance
  To pluck, some flower or water-weed, too fair
  Either to be divided from the place 30