That lay like a swan on the strand.
Pleased was my soul with the fortune
That came with such joy to my hand;
My spouse! thou art the star of the morning!
Blest be thy slumbers and bland!
“Aged and grey” he visited the hills for the last time, and composed his “Last Farewell to the Hills,” one of the most pathetic of his poems. Taking a retrospect of the past, he sorrowfully sings:—
And yesterday I trode yon moor—
How many a thought it moved!
The friends I walked with there of yore,
Where were those friends I loved!