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We stood together; and that I, so long
"Left upon a Seat in a Yew-tree, which stands near the Lake of Esthwaitc, on a desolate Part of the Shore, commanding a beautiful Prospect.
Nay, Traveller! rest. This lonely Yew-tree stands
Who he was
That piled these stones, and with the mossy sod
[ well remember.—He was one who owned No common soul. In youth by science nursed, And led by nature into a wild scene Of lofty hopes, he to the world went forth A favoured Being, knowing no desire Which Genius did not hallow,—'gainst the taint Of dissolute tongues, and jealousy, and hate, And scorn,—against all enemies prepared, All but neglect. The world, for so it thought, Owed him no service: wherefore he at once With indiguation turned himself away, And with the food of pride sustained his soul In solitude.—Stranger! these gloomy boughs Had charms for him; and here he loved to sit, His only visitants a straggling sheep, The stone-chat, or the sand-lark, restless Bird Piping along the margin of the lake; And on these barren rocks, with juniper, And heath, and thistle, thinly sprinkled o'er, Fixing his down-cast eye, he many an hour A morbid pleasure nourished, tracing here An emblem of his own unfruitful life: And lifting up his head, he then would gaze On the more distant scene,—how lovely 'tis