Hints for the Fancy

On, loitering Muse!—The swift Stream chides us—on!
Albeit his deep-worn channel doth immure
Objects immense, pourtray’d in miniature,
Wild shapes for many a strange comparison!
Niagaras, Alpine passes, and anon
Abodes of Naïads, calm abysses pure,
Bright liquid mansions, fashion’d to endure
When the broad Oak drops, a leafless skeleton,
And the solidities of mortal pride,
Palace and Tower, are crumbled into dust!
—The Bard who walks with Duddon for his guide,
Shall find such toys of Fancy thickly set:—
Turn from the sight, enamour’d Muse—we must;
Leave them—and, if thou canst, without regret!