Iii. The Castle

(In Scotland)

The tenderest ripple touched and touched the shore; The tenderest light was in the western sky;-- Its one soft phrase, closing reluctantly, The sea articulated o’er and o’er To comfort all tired things; and one might pore, Till mere oblivion took the heart and eye, On that slow-fading, amber radiancy Past the long levels of the ocean-floor. A turn,--the castle fronted me, four-square, Holding its seaward crag, abrupt, intense Against the west, an apparition bold Of naked human will; I stood aware, With sea and sky, of powers unowned of sense, Presences awful, vast, and uncontrolled.

IV. Άισθητιχή φαντασία

(In Ireland)

The sound is in my ears of mountain streams! I cannot close my lids but some grey rent Of wildered rock, some water’s clear descent In shattering crystal, pine-trees soft as dreams Waving perpetually, the sudden gleams Of remote sea, a dear surprise of flowers, Some grace or wonder of to-day’s long hours Straightway possesses the moved sense, which teems With fantasy unbid. O fair, large day! The unpractised sense brings heavings from a sea Of life too broad, and yet the billows range, The elusive footing glides. Come, Sleep, allay The trouble with thy heaviest balms, and change These pulsing visions to still Memory.