"Beloved Vale!" I said, "when I shall con
Those many records of my childish years,
Remembrance of myself and of my peers
Will press me down: to think of what is gone
Will be an awful thought, if life have one." 5
But, when into the Vale I came, no fears
Distressed me; from mine eyes escaped no tears;[1]
Deep thought, or dread remembrance, had I none.[2]
By doubts and thousand petty fancies crost[3]
I stood, of simple shame the blushing Thrall;[A] 10
So narrow seemed the brooks, the fields so small![4]
A Juggler's balls old Time about him tossed;
I looked, I stared, I smiled, I laughed; and all
The weight of sadness was in wonder lost.
Doubtless the "Vale" referred to is that of Hawkshead; the "brooks" may refer to the one that feeds Esthwaite lake, or to Sawrey beck, or (more likely) to the streamlet, "the famous brook within our garden boxed," described in The Prelude, books i. and ii. (vol. iii.) See also The Fountain, vol. ii. p. 92.—Ed.
VARIANTS:
[1] 1827.
Distress'd me; I look'd round, I shed no tears; 1807.
[2] 1837.
... or awful vision, I had none. 1807.
... had I none. 1827.
[3] 1827.