372     One evening (surely I was led by her)

          373I went alone into a Shepherd's Boat,

          374A Skiff that to a Willow tree was tied

          375Within a rocky Cave, its usual home.

          376'Twas by the shores of Patterdale, a Vale

          377Wherein I was a Stranger, thither come

          378A School-boy Traveller, at the Holidays.

          379Forth rambled from the Village Inn alone

          380No sooner had I sight of this small Skiff,

          381Discover'd thus by unexpected chance,

          382Than I unloos'd her tether and embark'd.

          383The moon was up, the Lake was shining clear

          384Among the hoary mountains; from the Shore

          385I push'd, and struck the oars and struck again

          386In cadence, and my little Boat mov'd on

          387Even like a Man who walks with stately step

          388Though bent on speed. It was an act of stealth

          389And troubled pleasure; not without the voice

          390Of mountain-echoes did my Boat move on,

          391Leaving behind her still on either side

          392Small circles glittering idly in the moon,

          393Until they melted all into one track

          394Of sparkling light. A rocky Steep uprose

          395Above the Cavern of the Willow tree

          396And now, as suited one who proudly row'd

          397With his best skill, I fix'd a steady view

          398Upon the top of that same craggy ridge,

          399The bound of the horizon, for behind

          400Was nothing but the stars and the grey sky.

          401She was an elfin Pinnace; lustily

          402I dipp'd my oars into the silent Lake,

          403And, as I rose upon the stroke, my Boat

          404Went heaving through the water, like a Swan;

          405When from behind that craggy Steep, till then

          406The bound of the horizon, a huge Cliff,

          407As if with voluntary power instinct,

          408Uprear'd its head. I struck, and struck again

          409And, growing still in stature, the huge Cliff

          410Rose up between me and the stars, and still,

          411With measur'd motion, like a living thing,

          412Strode after me. With trembling hands I turn'd,

          413And through the silent water stole my way

          414Back to the Cavern of the Willow tree.

          415There, in her mooring-place, I left my Bark,

          416And, through the meadows homeward went, with grave

          417And serious thoughts; and after I had seen

          418That spectacle, for many days, my brain

          419Work'd with a dim and undetermin'd sense

          420Of unknown modes of being; in my thoughts

          421There was a darkness, call it solitude,

          422Or blank desertion, no familiar shapes

          423Of hourly objects, images of trees,

          424Of sea or sky, no colours of green fields;

          425But huge and mighty Forms that do not live

          426Like living men mov'd slowly through the mind

          427By day and were the trouble of my dreams.