On a Portrait of Wordsworth, by B. E. Haydon

Wordsworth upon Helvellyn! Let the cloud

Ebb audibly along the mountain-wind,

Then break against the rock, and show behind

The lowland valleys floating up to crowd

The sense with beauty. He, with forehead bowed

And humble-lidded eyes, as one inclined

Before the sovran thought of his own mind,

And very meek with inspirations proud,—

Takes here his rightful place as poet-priest

By the high altar, singing prayer and prayer

To the higher Heavens! A noble vision free,

Our Haydon's hand hath flung out from the mist!

No portrait this, with Academic air—

This is the poet and his poetry.