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Nor is there any one in sight
All round, in Hollow or on Height;
Nor shout, nor whistle strikes his ear;
What is the Creature doing here?
It was a Cove, a huge Recess,
That keeps till June December's snow
A lofty Precipice in front,
A silent Tarn[1] below!
Far in the bosom of Helvellyn,
Remote from public Road or Dwelling,
Pathway, or cultivated land;
From trace of human foot or hand.
There, sometimes does a leaping Fish
Send through the Tarn a lonely cheer;
The Crags repeat the Raven's croak,
In symphony austere;
Thither the Rainbow comes—the Cloud—
And Mists that spread the flying shroud;
And Sun-beams; and the sounding blast,
That, if it could, would hurry past,
But that enormous Barrier binds it fast.
- ↑ Tarn is a small Mere or Lake mostly high up in the mountains.
