Our steeds remounted and the summons given, 115
  With whip and spur we through the chauntry flew
  In uncouth race, and left the cross-legged knight,
  And the stone-abbot, [H] and that single wren
  Which one day sang so sweetly in the nave
  Of the old church, that—­though from recent showers 120
  The earth was comfortless, and touched by faint
  Internal breezes, sobbings of the place
  And respirations, from the roofless walls
  The shuddering ivy dripped large drops—­yet still
  So sweetly ’mid the gloom the invisible bird 125
  Sang to herself, that there I could have made
  My dwelling-place, and lived for ever there
  To hear such music.  Through the walls we flew
  And down the valley, and, a circuit made
  In wantonness of heart, through rough and smooth 130
  We scampered homewards.  Oh, ye rocks and streams,
  And that still spirit shed from evening air! 
  Even in this joyous time I sometimes felt
  Your presence, when with slackened step we breathed
  Along the sides of the steep hills, or when 135
  Lighted by gleams of moonlight from the sea
  We beat with thundering hoofs the level sand.

    Midway on long Winander’s eastern shore,
  Within the crescent of a pleasant bay, [I]
  A tavern stood; [K] no homely-featured house, 140
  Primeval like its neighbouring cottages,
  But ’twas a splendid place, the door beset
  With chaises, grooms, and liveries, and within
  Decanters, glasses, and the blood-red wine. 
  In ancient times, and ere the Hall was built 145
  On the large island, had this dwelling been
  More worthy of a poet’s love, a hut,
  Proud of its own bright fire and sycamore shade. 
  But—­though the rhymes were gone that once inscribed
  The threshold, and large golden characters, 150
  Spread o’er the spangled sign-board, had dislodged
  The old Lion and usurped his place, in slight
  And mockery of the rustic painter’s hand—­[L]
  Yet, to this hour, the spot to me is dear
  With all its foolish pomp.  The garden lay 155
  Upon a slope surmounted by a plain
  Of a small bowling-green; beneath us stood
  A grove, with gleams of water through the trees
  And over the tree-tops; [M] nor did we want
  Refreshment, strawberries and mellow cream. 160
  There, while through half an afternoon we played
  On the smooth platform, whether skill prevailed
  Or happy blunder triumphed, bursts of glee
  Made all the mountains ring.  But, ere night-fall,
  When in our pinnace we returned at leisure 165
  Over the shadowy lake, and to the beach
  Of some small island steered our course