governed by the quiet of a time to which its archetype, the living
person, is perhaps insensible; or it may happen that the figure of
one of the larger birds, a raven or a heron, is crossing silently
among the reflected clouds, while the voice of the real bird, from
the element aloft, gently awakens in the spectator the recollection
of appetites and instincts, pursuits and occupations, that deform
and agitate the world, yet have no power to prevent nature from
putting on an aspect capable of satisfying the most intense cravings
for the tranquil, the lovely, and the perfect, to which man, the
noblest of her creatures, is subject."

The scene described here is one as exquisite in detail as majestic
in general effect. And it is characteristic of the region to which
Wordsworth's love was given that there is no corner of it without a
meaning and a charm; that the open record of its immemorial past
tells us at every turn that all agencies have conspired for
loveliness and ruin itself has been benign. A passage of Wordsworth's
describing the character of the lake-shores illustrates this fact
with loving minuteness.

"Sublimity is the result of nature's first great dealings with
the superficies of the Earth; but the general tendency of her
subsequent operations is towards the production of beauty, by
a multiplicity of symmetrical parts uniting in a consistent
whole. This is everywhere exemplified along the margins of
these lakes. Masses of rock, that have been precipitated from
the heights into the area of waters, lie in some places like
stranded ships, or have acquired the compact structure of jutting
piers, or project in little peninsulas crested with native wood.
The smallest rivulet, one whose silent influx is scarcely