I rose while yet the cattle, heat-opprest, Crowded together under rustling trees Brushed by the current of the water-breeze; And for 'their' sakes, and love of all that rest, On Duddon's margin, in the sheltering nest; For all the startled scaly tribes that slink Into his coverts, and each fearless link Of dancing insects forged upon his breast; For these, and hopes and recollections worn Close to the vital seat of human clay; Glad meetings, tender partings, that upstay The drooping mind of absence, by vows sworn In his pure presence near the trysting thorn-- I thanked the Leader of my onward way.