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Silent N ymph! with curious eye,

Who, the purple ev'ning, lie

On the mountains lonely van,

Beyond the noife of bufy man,

Painting fair the form of things,

While the yellow linnet sings;

Or the tuneful nightingale

Charms the forest with her tale;

Come, with all thy various hues,

Come, and aid thy sister Mufe.

Now, while Phœbus riding high,

Gives lustre to the land and lky,

Grongar Hill invites my fong,

Draw the landfcape bright and strong;

Grongar! in whofe mossy cells.

Sweetly mufmg, Qu'.cl dwells;

Grongar! in whofe quiet lhade,

For the modest Mufes made,'

So oft T have, the cv'ning still,

At the fountain of a rill,

Sat upon a flow'rv bed,

With my hand beneath my head,

While stray'd my eyes o'er Towy's flood

Over mead and over wood,

From houfe to houfe, from hill to hill,

Till Contemplation had her sill.

About bis chetpier'd sides I wind,
And leave his brooks and meads behind
And groves and grottos where I lay,
And viflas mooting beams of day.
Wide and wider fpreads the vale,
As circles on a fmooth canal:
The mountains round, unhappy fate!
Sooner or later, 0l' all height,
Withdraw their fummits from the ikies,
And lessen as the others rife,
Still the profpect wider fpreads,
Adds a thoufand woods and meads;
Still it widens, widens still,
And sinks the newly-rifen hill.

Now 1 gain the mountain's brow;
What a landfcape lies below!
No clouds, no vapours, intervene;
But the gay, the open fcene,
Does the face of Nature mow,
In all the hues of heaven's bow;
And, fwelling to embrace the light,
Spreads around beneath the sight.

Old castles on the clisss arife,
Proudly tow'ring in the Ikies;
Rulhing from the woods, the fpires
Seem from hence afcending sires:
Half his beams Apollo flieds
On the yellow mountain-heads;
'Gilds the fleeces of the flocks,
And glitters on the broken rocks.

Below me trees unnumber'd rife,
Beautiful in various dyes:

The gloomy pine, the poplar hlue,
The yellow heach, the fahle yew;
The flender sir, that taper grows,
The sturdy oak, with hroad-fpread houghs
And, heyond 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, steep and high,
Holds and charms the wand'ring eye-
Deep are his feet in Towy's flood;
His sides are cloth'd with waving wood j
Ancient towers crown his hrow,
That cast an awful look helow;
Whofe ragged walls the ivy creeps,
And with her arms from falling keepi:
So hoth a fafety from the wind
One mutual dependance sind.

'Tis now the raven's hleak ahode;
Tis now the apartment of the toad;
And there the fox fecurely feeds 5
And there the pois'nous adder hreeds,
Conceal'd in ruins, mofs, and weeds;
While, ever and anon, there falls
Huge heaps of hoary moulder'd walls.
Yet time has heen, that lifts the low,
And level lays the lofty hrow,
Has feen this hroken pile complete
Big with the vanity of state;
But transient is the fmile of Fate,
A little rule, a little fway,
A fua-heaxa in a winters day,

Is all the proud and mighty have
Betw een the cradle and the grave.

And, fee the rivers, how they run,
Through woods and meads, in shade and situ.
Sometimes fwift, and fometimes flow,
Wave fucceeding wave they go,
A various journey to the deep,
Like human life, to endlefs fleep!
Thus is Nature's vesture wrought,
To inftruct our wand'ring thought;
Thus she dresfes green and gay,
To difperfe our cares away.

Ever charming, ever new,
When will the landfcape 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 iky!

The pleafant feat, the ruin'd tow'r,

The naked rock, the shady hqw'r;

The town and village, dome and farm;

Each give each a douhle charm,

As pearls upon an Ethiop's arm.

See on the mountain's fouthern side,

Where the profpect opens wide,

Where the ev'ning gilds the tide,

How clofe and fmall the hedges lie!

What streaks of meadows crofs the eye 1

A step, methinks, may pafs the stream,

So little diflant dangers feem:

So we mistake the future's face,
£>' d through Hope's deluding glase.
A* yon fummits, foft and fair,
Clad in colours of the air,
Which, to thofe who journey near,
Barren, hrawn, and rough appear:
Stdl we tread the fame coarfe way;
The prefent's still a cloudy day.

O may I with myfelf agree,
And never covet what I fee!
Content me with an humhle thade,
My passions tain'd; my withes laid;
For while our wishcs wildly roll,
We hanifh quiet from the foul:
'Tis thus the hufy heat the air,
And mifers gather wealth and care.

Now, e'en now, my joys run high,
As on the mountam-turf s lie;
While the wanton zephyr fmgs,
And in the vale perfumes his wings;
While the waters murmur deep;
While the shepherd charms his sheep;
While the hirds unhounded fly,
And with mufic till the sky,
Now, e'en now, my joys run high.

Be full, ye courts! he great who will;
Search for Peace with all your ikill;
Open wide the lofty door,
Seek her on the marhle floor:
In vain ye fearch, fhe is not there;
In vain ye fearch the domes of Care!
Grafs and tlowers Quiet treads,
On the meads and mountain-heads,

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