Slike strani

Rufhing from the woods, the fpires
Seem from hence afcending fires !
Half his beams Apollo fheds
On the yellow mountain-heads!
Gilds the fleeces of the flocks:
And glitters on the broken rocks!
Below me trees unnumber'd rise,
Beautiful in various dyes:
The gloomy pine, the poplar blue,
The yellow beech, the fable yew,
The flender fir, that taper grows,

The sturdy oak, with broad-fpread boughs,
And beyond the purple grove,

Haunt of Phillis, queen of love!
Gaudy as the op'ning dawn,

Lies a long and level lawn,

On which a dark hill, fteep and high,
Holds and charms the wand'ring eye!
Deep are his feet in Towy's flood,
His fides are cloath'd with waving wood,
And ancient towers crown his brow,
That caft an aweful look below;
Whofe ragged walls the ivy creeps,
And with her arms from falling keeps ;
So both a fafety from the wind
On mutual dependence find.

'Tis now the raven's bleak abode ; 'Tis now th' apartment of the toad;


And there th fox fecurely feeds;
And there the pois'nous adder breeds,
Conceal'd in ruins, mofs, and weeds;
While, ever and anon, there falls
Huge heaps of hoary-moulder'd walls.
Yet Time has seen, that lifts the low,
And level lays the lofty brow,
Has feen this broken pile compleat,
Big with the vanity of state;
But tranfient is the fmile of fate!
A little rule, a little fway,
A fun-beam in a winter's day,
Is all the proud and mighty have
Between the cradle and the grave.

And see the rivers how they run,

Through woods and meads, in fhade and fun,
Sometimes fwift, sometimes flow,
Wave fucceeding wave, they go
A various journey to the deep,
Like human life to endless fleep!
Thus is nature's vefture wrought,
To inftruct our wand'ring thought;
Thus fhe dreffes green and gay,
To difperfe our cares away.

Ever charming, ever new,

When will the landskip tire the view
The fountain's fall, the river's flow,
The woody vallies, warm and low;
P 4



The windy fummit, wild and high,
Roughly rushing on the sky!

The pleasant feat, the ruin'd tow'r,
The naked rock, the fhady bow'r;
The town and village, dome and farm,
Each give each a double charm,
As pearls upon an Ethiop's arm.

See on the mountain's fouthern fide,
Where the prospect opens wide,
Where the evening gilds the tide;
How close and small the hedges lie!
What streaks of meadows cross the eye!
A ftep methinks may pass the stream,
So little distant dangers feem;

So we mistake the future's face,
Ey'd through hope's deluding glass;
As yon fummits foft and fair,
Clad in colours of the air,

Which to those who journey near,
Barren, brown, and rough appear;
Still we tread the fame coarfe way,
The prefent's ftill a cloudy day.

O may I with myself agree,

And never covet what I fee!
Content me with an humble fhade,

My paffions tam'd, my wifhes laid;
For while our wishes wildly roll,
We banish quiet from the foul:

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"Tis thus the busy beat the air;
And mifers gather wealth and care.
Now, ev'n now, my joys run high,
As on the mountain-turf I lie;
While the wanton Zephyr fings,
And in the vale perfumes his wings;
While the waters murmur deep;

While the shepherd charms his sheep;
While the birds unbounded fly,

And with mufic fill the sky,

Now, ev'n now, my joys run high.

Be full, ye courts, be great who will;
Search for Peace with all your kill:
Open wide the lofty door,

Seek her on the marble floor,

In vain you search, fhe is not there;
In vain
ye fearch the domes of care!
Grafs and flowers Quiet treads,
On the meads and mountain-heads,
Along with pleasure, close ally'd,
Ever by each other's fide:

And often, by the murmʼring rill,
Hears the thrush, while all is ftill,
Within the groves of Grongar Hill.




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Afpice murorum moles, præruptaque faxa,
Obrutaque horrenti vafta theatra fitu :

Hæc funt Roma. Viden' velut ipfa cadavera tantæ
Urbis adhuc fpirent imperiofa minas?

Janus Vitalis.

NOUGH of Grongar, and the fhady dales.
Of winding Towy, Merlin's fabled haunt,
I fung inglorious. Now the love of arts,
And what in metal or in ftone remains
Of proud antiquity, through various realms
And various languages and ages fam'd,
Bears me remote, o'er Gallia's woody bounds,
O'er the cloud-piercing Alps remote; beyond
The vale of Arno purpled with the vine,
Beyond the Umbrian and Etrufcan hills,
To Latium's wide champain, forlorn and wafte,


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