Or the tuneful nightingale
Charms the foreft with her tale ;
Come with all thy various hues,
Come and aid thy fifter Mufe ;
Now while Phoebus riding high
Gives luftre to the land and sky?
Grongar hill invites my song,
Draw the landskip bright and ftrong;
Grongar, in whofe moffy cells
Sweetly mufing Quiet dwells;
Grongar, in whose filent shade,
For the modeft Muses made,
So oft I have, the evening ftill,
At the fountain of a rill,
Sate upon a flow'ry bed,
With my hand beneath my head;
While stray'd my eyes o'er Towy's flood,
Over mead, and over wood,
From house to house, from hill to hill, 'Till contemplation had her fill.
About his chequer'd fides I wind And leave his brooks and meads behind, And groves and grottoes where I lay, And viftoes fhooting beams of day Wide and wider spreads the vale; As circles on a smooth canal ; The mountains round, unhappy fate! Sooner or later, of all height,
Withdraw their fummits from the skies,
And leffen as the others rife ;
Still the profpect wider spreads,
Adds a thoufand woods and meads,
Does the face of nature fhow,
In all the hues of heaven's bow?
And, fwelling to embrace the light,
Spreads around beneath the fight.
Old caftles on the cliffs arise,
Proudly tow'ring in the fkies
Rushing from the woods, the fpires
Seem from hence ascending 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 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 cloth'd with waving wood,
And ancient towers crown his brow,
Than caft an awful 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 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 been, 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 smile of fate;
A little rule, a little sway,
A fun-beam in a winter's day,
Is all the proud and mighty have
Between the cradle and the grave.
And fee the rivers how they run,
Through woods and meads, in shade 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 instruct our wand'ring thought;
Thus fhe dreffes green and gay,
To disperse our cares away.
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 rufhing on the fky;
The pleasant seat, the ruin'd tow'r,
The naked rock, the fhady bow'r;
The town and village, dome and farm,
Each gave each a double charm,
As pearls upon an Æthiop's arm.
See on the mountain's fouthern fide,
Where the profpect opens wide,
Where the evening gilds the tide ;
How close and small the hedges lie!
What ftreaks of meadows cross the
A ftep methinks may pafs the ftream;
So little diftant dangers feem;
So we mistake the future's face,
Ey'd through hope's deluding glafs;
As you 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 shade,
My paffions tam'd, my wifbes laid;
For while our wishes wildly roll,
We banish quiet from the foul;
'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 water murmurs deep;
While the fhepherd charms his fheep:
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 skill; Open wide the lofty door,
Seek her on the marble floor,
In vain you fearch, she 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 murm'ring rill,
Hears the thrush, while all is ftill,
Within the groves of Grongar Hill.
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