Abroad in search of beauty, with such scenes as thine at home,
For, nowhere,—seek the frigid north, or sultry southern clime,
Are mingled so the beautiful, the sweet and the sublime.
Thy placid lake is beautiful—its winding shores are sweet—
Thine Old Man Mountain is sublime, whose top the white clouds greet,
As brother greeteth brother, with a hearty, close embrace,
And round whose rugged rock-bound sides the sportive cloudlets race.
Though other lakes be passing fair,—though fair be “green Grasmere;”
Though Rydal boast its herony, and Rydal Mount be near;
Though Ullswater be gorgeous, and Bassenthwaite be broad;