And, fwelling to embrace the light,
Spreads around beneath the fight.
Old caftles on the cliffs arife,
Proudly towering in the skies!
Rufhing from the woods, the fpires
Seem from hence afcending fires!
Half his beams Apollo sheds
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-spread boughs.
And beyond the purple grove,
Haunt of Phyllis, Queen of Love!
Gaudy as the opening dawn,
Lies a long and level lawn,
On which a dark hill, steep and high,
Holds and charms the wandering 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 the fox fecurely feeds;
And there the poisonous 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 feen, that lifts the low,
And level lays the lofty brow,
Has feen this broken pile compleat,
Big with the vanity of ftate;
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 Swift, fometimes 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 wandering 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;
The windy fummit, wild and high,
Roughly rushing on the sky!
The pleasant seat, the ruin'd tower,
The naked rock, the fhady bower;
The town and village, dome and farm,
Each give each a double charm,
As pearls upon an Æthiop's arm.
See on the mountain's fouthern fide,
Where the prospect opens wide,
Where the evening gilds the tide;
How close and fmall the hedges lie!
What ftreaks of meadows cross the eye!
A ftep methinks may pafs the stream,
So little distant dangers seem ;
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 thofe who journey near,
Barren, brown, and rough appear;
Still we tread the fame coarse 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 :
'Tis thus the bufy 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 fheep;
While the birds unbounded fly,
And with mufick 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 skill:
Open wide the lofty door,
Seck her on the marble floor,
In vain you fearch, 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 Pleafure, clofe ally'd,
Ever by each other's fide:
And often, by the murmuring rill,
Hears the thrush, while all is ftill,
Within the groves of Grongar Hill.
Afpice murorum moles, præruptaque faxa, "Obrutaque horrenti vesta theatra fitu :
"Hæc funt Roma. Viden' velut ipfa cadavera tantx "Urbis adhuc spirent imperiofa minas ?”
NOUGH of Grongar, and the fhady dales
Of winding Towy, Merlin's fabled haunt
Ifung 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 waste,
Where yellow Tiber his neglected wave
Mournfully rolls. Yet once again, my Mufe,,
Yet once again, and foar a loftier flight;
Lo the refiftless theme, imperial Rome.
Fall'n, fall'n, a filent heap; her heroes all
Sunk in their urns; behold the pride of pomp,
The throne of nations fall'n; obfcur'd in duft;
Ev'n yet majestical; the folemn fcene
Elates the foul, while now the rifing Sun
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