Old majestic Derwent force
His independent course,
And learn of him and nature to be free;
And you, triumphal arches, shrink;
Ye temples, tremble; and ye columns, sink;
One nod from Wallow's craggy brow
Shall crush the dome
Of sacerdotal Rome,
And lay her glitt'ring gilded trophies low.

Now, downward as I bend my eye,
What is that atom I espy?
That speck in nature's plan,
Great Heaven! is that a man?
And hath that little wretch its cares,
Its freaks, its follies, and its airs?
And do I hear the insect say,
'My lakes, my mountains, my domain?'
O weak, contemptible, and vain!
The tenant of the day.-
Say to old Skiddaw, 'change thy place,'
Heave Helvellyn from his base,
Or bid impetuous Derwent stand,
At the proud waving of a master's hand.

Now with silent step, and slow,
Descend; but first forbear to blow
Ye felon winds; let discord cease,
And nature seal an elemental peace:-
Hush! not a whisper here;
Beware! for Echo, on the watch,
Sits with erect and list'ning ear,
The secrets of the scene to catch;
Then swelling, as she rolls around
The hoarse reverberated sound,
With loud repeated shocks,
She beats the loose impending rocks, /