SILENT Nymph, with curious eye!
Who, the purple ev'ning, lie
On the mountain's lonely van,
Beyond the noise of busy man,
Painting fair the form of things,
While the yellow linnet fings;
Or the tuneful nightingale
Charms the forest 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 fong,
Draw the landskip bright and strong;
Grongar, in whofe moffy cells
Sweetly mufing Quiet dwells;
Grongar, in whose filent fhade,
For the modeft Mufes made,
So oft I have, the ev'ning ftill,
At the fountain of a rill,
Sate upon a flow'ry bed,
While ftray'd my eyes o'er Towy's flood,
Over mead, and over wood,
From houfe to house, from hill to hill,
Withdraw their fummits from the fkies,
And leffen as the others rife :
Still the prospect wider spreads,
Adds a thousand woods and meads;
Still it widens, widens ftill,
And finks the newly-risen hill.
Now I gain the mountain's brow,
What a landfkip lies below!
No clouds, no vapours intervene,
But the gay, the open scene
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 arife,
Proudly tow'ring in the skies!
Rushing from the woods, the spires
Seem from hence ascending 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 tree's unnumber'd rife, 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 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 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 feen, 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 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,
Thro' woods and meads, in fhade and fun,
Sometimes fwift, fometimes flow,
Wave fucceeding wave, they go
A various journey to the deep,
Like human life to endless fleep!
Thus is Nature's vesture wrought,
To instruct our wand'ring thought;
Thus fhe dreffes green and
To disperse 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 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 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 eye!
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