It was a summer's night, a close warm night,

Wan, dull and glaring, with a dripping mist

Low-hung and thick that covered all the sky, 

Half threatening storm and rain; but on we went

Unchecked, being full of heart and having faith 

In our tried pilot. Little could we see

Hemmed round on every side with fog and damp,

And, after ordinary travellers¡¯ chat

With our conductor, silently we sank

Each into commerce with his private thoughts:

Thus did we breast the ascent, and by myself

Was nothing either seen or heard the while

Which took me from my musings, save that once

The shepherd¡¯s cur did to his own great joy 

Unearth a hedgehog in the mountain crags

Round which he made a barking turbulent.

This small adventure, for even such it seemed 

In that wild place and at the dead of night,

Being over and forgotten, on we wound

In silence as before. With forehead bent

Earthward, as if in opposition set

Against an enemy, I panted up

With eager pace, and no less eager thoughts.

Thus might we wear perhaps an hour away,

Ascending at loose distance each from each,

And I, as chanced, the foremost of the band;

When at my feet the ground appeared to brighten,

And with a step or two seemed brighter still;

Nor had I time to ask the cause of this,

For instantly a light upon the turf

Fell like a flash! I looked about, and lo!

The Moon stood naked in the heavens at height

Immense above my head, and on the shore

I found myself of a huge sea of mist,

Which, meek and silent, rested at my feet.

A hundred hills their dusky backs upheaved 

All over this still ocean; and beyond,

Far, far beyond, the vapours shot themselves

In headlands, tongues, and promontory shapes,

Into the sea, the real sea, that seemed

To dwindle, and give up its majesty, 

Usurped upon as far as sight could reach.

Meanwhile, the Moon looked down upon this show

In single glory, and we stood, the mist

Touching our very feet. And from the shore

At distance not the third part of a mile

Was a blue chasm, a fracture in the vapour,

A deep and gloomy breathing-place through which 

Mounted the roar of waters, torrents, streams

Innumerable, roaring with one voice!

The universal spectacle throughout

Was shaped for admiration and delight,

Grand in itself alone, but in that breach 

Through which the homeless voice of waters rose,

That dark deep thoroughfare, had Nature lodged 

The soul, the imagination of the whole.

A meditation rose in me that night

Upon the lonely mountain when the scene

Had passed away, and it appeared to me

The perfect image of a mighty mind,

Of one that feeds upon infinity,

That is exalted by an underpresence,

The sense of God, or whatsoe¡¯er is dim

Or vast in its own being,  above all,

One function of such mind had Nature there

Exhibited by putting forth, and that

With circumstance most awful and sublime,

That domination which she oftentimes

Exerts upon the outward face of things,

So moulds them, and endues, abstracts, combines,

Or by abrupt and unhabitual influence

Does make one object so impress itself

Upon all others, and pervade them so

That even the grossest minds must see and hear

And cannot choose but feel. The power, which these

Acknowledge when thus moved, which Nature thus

Thrusts forth upon the senses, is the express

Resemblance, in the fullness of its strength

Made visible, a genuine counterpart

And brother of the glorious faculty

Which higher minds bear with them as their own.

That is the very spirit in which they deal

With all the objects of the universe:

They from their native selves can send abroad 

Like transformation; for themselves create

A like existence, and, whene¡¯er it is

Created for them, catch it by an instinct;

Them the enduring and the transient both

Serve to exalt; they build up greatest things

From least suggestions; ever on the watch,

Willing to work and to be wrought upon,

They need not extraordinary calls

To rouse them: in a world of life they live,

By sensible impressions not enthralled,

But quickened, roused, and made thereby more fit

To hold communion with the invisible world.

Such minds are truly from the Deity,

For they are Powers; and hence the highest bliss

That can be known is theirs ìé the consciousness

Of Whom they are, habitually infused 

Through every image and through every thought,

And all impressions; hence religion, faith,

And endless occupation for the Soul,

Whether discursive or intuitive;

Hence sovereignty within and peace at will,

Emotion which best foresight need not fear,

Most worthy then of trust when most intense.

Hence cheerfulness in every act of life,

Hence truth in moral judgements and delight .

That fails not in the external universe.

(10-119)