The River Duddon: VII

— by William Wordsworth

What aspect bore the Man who roved or fled, First of his tribe, to this dark dell--who first In this pellucid Current slaked his thirst? What hopes came with him? what designs were spread Along his path? His unprotected bed What dreams encompassed? Was the intruder nursed In hideous usages, and rites accursed, That thinned the living and disturbed the dead? No voice replies;--both air and earth are mute; And Thou, blue Streamlet, murmuring yield’st no more Than a soft record, that, whatever fruit Of ignorance thou mightst witness heretofore, Thy function was to heal and to restore, To soothe and cleanse, not madden and pollute!