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!