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15.

"Beloved Vale!" I said, "when I shall conThose many records of my childish years,Remembrance of myself and of my peersWill press me down: to think of what is goneWill be an awful thought, if life have one."But, when into the Vale I came, no fearsDistress'd me; I look'd round, I shed no tears;Deep thought, or awful vision, I had none.By thousand petty fancies I was cross'd,To see the Trees, which I had thought so tall,Mere dwarfs; the Brooks so narrow, Fields so small.A Juggler's Balls old Time about him toss'd;I looked, I stared, I smiled, I laughed; and allThe weight of sadness was in wonder lost.
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