At Malvern

I shall behold far off thy towering crest, Proud mountain! from thy heights as slow I stray Down through the distant vale my homeward way, I shall behold upon thy rugged breast, The parting sun sit smiling: me the while Escaped the crowd, thoughts full of heaviness May visit, as life's bitter losses press Hard on my bosom; but I shall beguile The thing I am, and think, that ev'n as thou Dost lift in the pale beam thy forehead high, Proud mountain! whilst the scattered vapours fly Unheeded round thy breast,--so, with calm brow, The shades of sorrow I may meet, and wear The smile unchanged of peace, though pressed by care!