Of Thirlmere flashes like a warrior’s shield
His light high up among the gloomy rocks,
With sight of now and then a straggling gleam
On Armath’s[348] pleasant fields. And now they came,
To that high spring which bears no human name,
As one unknown by others, aptly called
The fountain of the mists. The father stooped
To drink of the clear water, laid himself
Flat on the ground, even as a boy might do,
To drink of the cold well. When in like sort