SONNET VIII.

I wander'd lonely, like a pilgrim sad,

O'er mountains known but to the eagle's gaze;

Yet, my hush'd heart, with Nature's beauty glad,

Slept in the shade, or gloried in the blaze.

Romantic vales stole winding to my eye

In gradual loveliness, like rising dreams;

Fair, nameless tarns, that seem to blend with sky

Rocks of wild majesty, and elfin streams.

How strange, methought, I should have lived so near,

Nor ever worshipp'd Nature's altar here!

Strange! say not so — hid from the world and thee,

Though in the midst of life their spirits move,

Thousands enjoy in holy liberty

The silent Eden of unenvied Love!