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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=519624" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Hellvellyn</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I climbed the dark brow of the mighty Hellvellyn,<br>Lakes and mountains beneath me gleamed misty and wide;<br>All was still, save by fits, when the eagle was yelling,<br>And starting around me the echoes replied.<br>On the right, Striding-edge round the Red-tarn was bending,<br>And Catchedicam its left verge was defending, <br>One huge nameless rock in the front was ascending, <br>When I marked the sad spot where the wanderer had died.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Dark green was that spot 'mid the brown mountain heather,<br>Where the Pilgrim of Nature lay stretched in decay,<br>Like the corpse of an outcast abandoned to weather, <br>Till the mountain winds wasted the tenantless clay.<br>Nor yet quite deserted, though lonely extended, <br>For, faithful in death, his mute favourite attended,<br>The much-loved remains of her master defended, <br>And chased the hill-fox and the raven away. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">How long didst thou think that his silence was slumber?<br>When the wind waved his garment, how oft didst thou start?<br>How many long days and long weeks didst thou number,<br>Ere he faded before thee, the friend of thy heart? <br>And, oh! was it meet, that - no requiem read o'er him-<br>No mother to weep, and no friend to deplore him, <br>And thou, little guardian, alone stretched before him<br>Unhonoured the Pilgrim from life should depart? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">When a prince to the fate of the peasant has yielded,<br>The tapestry waves dark round the dim-lighted hall;<br>With scutcheons of silver the coffin is shielded, <br>And pages stand mute by the canopied pall: <br>Through the courts, at deep midnight, the torches are gleaming;<br>In the proudly-arched chapel the banners are beaming,<br>Far adown the long aisle sacred music is streaming, <br>Lamenting a chief of the people should fall.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But meeter for thee, gentle lover of nature,<br>To lay down thy head like the meek mountain lamb,<br>When, wildered, he drops from some cliff huge in stature,<br>And draws his last sob by the side of his dam. <br>And more stately thy couch by this desert lake lying,<br>Thy obsequies sung by the gray plover flying, <br>With one faithful friend but to witness thy dying, <br>In the arms of Hellvellyn and Catchedicam.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Sir+Walter+Scott">Sir Walter Scott</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=519624" data-title="Hellvellyn de Sir Walter Scott" data-description="I climbed the dark brow of the mighty Hellvellyn,
Lakes and mountains beneath me gleamed misty and wide;
All was still, save by fits, when the eagle was yelling,
And starting around me the echoes replied.
On the right, Striding-edge round the Red-..."></div>
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