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GRONGAR HILL. 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 Muse. Now, while Phæbus riding high, Gives lusire to the land and sky, Grongar Hill invites my song, Draw the landscape bright and strong; Grongar! in whose mossy cells, Sweetly musing, Quiet dwells; Grongar! in whose quiet fade, For the modest Muses made, so oft I have, the ev'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 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 grottos where I lay,
And vistas shooting 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 summits from the skies,
And lessen as the others rise,
Still the prospect wider spreads,
Adds a thousand woods and meads ;
Still it widens, widens still,
And finks the newly-risen hill.
Now I gain the mountain's brow;
What a landscape lies below!
No clouds, no vapours, intervene;
But the gay, the open scene,
Does the face of Nature show,
In all the hues of heaven's bow ;
And, swelling to embrace the light,
Spreads around beneath the fight.
Old castles on the cliffs arise,
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 trees unnumber'd rise,
Beautiful in various dyes :
The gloomy pine, the poplar blue,
The yellow beach, the fable yew;
The slender 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, fieep 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;
Ancient towers crown his brow,
That cast an awful look below;
Whose ragged walls the ivy creeps,
And with her arms froin falling keeps :
So both a safety from the wind
One mutual dependance find.
'Tis now the raven's bleak abode ;
'Tis now the apartment of the toad;
And there the fux securely feeds;
And there the pois’nous adder breeds,
Conceal'd in ruins, moss, and weeds:
While, ever and anon, there falls
Huge heaps of hoary moulder'd walls,
Yet time has been, that lists the low,
And level lays the lofty brow,
Has seen this broken pile completo
Big with the vanity of state;
But transient 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, see the rivers, how they run,
Through woods and meads, in shade and sun,
Sometimes i'wift, and sometimes Now,
Wave succeeding wave they go,
A various journey to the deep,
Like human life, to endless sleep !
Thus is Nature's vesture wrought,
To instruct our wand'ring thought;
Thas the dresses green and gay,
To disperse our cares away.
Ever charming, ever new,
When will the lavdscape tire the view!
The fountain's fall, the river's flow,
The woody vallies, warm and low;
The windy summit wild and high,
Roughly rushing on the sky !
The pleasant seat, the ruin'd tow'r,
The naked rock, the shady 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 southern side,
Where the prospect opens wide,
Where the ev'ning gilds the tide,
How close and small the hedges lie!
What streaks of meadows cross the eye!
A step, methinks, may pass the stream,
So little distant dangers seem :
So we mistake the future's face,
Ey'd through Hope's deluding glass.
As yon summits, foft and fair,
Clad in colours of the air,
Which, to those who journey nearg
Barren, brown, and rough appear:
Still we tread the fame coarse way ;
The present's still a cloudy day.
I with myself agree,
And never covet wbat I see !
Content me with an humble fhade,
My passions tam’d; my wishes laid ;
For while our wishes wildly roll,
We banish quiet from the foul :
*Tis thus the busy beat the air,
And misers gather wealth and care.
Now, e'en now, my joys run high,
As on the mountain-turf I lie;
While the wanton zephyr fings,
And in the vale perfumes his wirgs i
While the waters murmur deep;
While the shepherd charms his sheep;
While the birds unbounded fly,
And with music fill the sky,
Now, e'en now, my joys run higli.
Be full, ye courts! be great who will;
Search for Peace with all your skill;
Open wide the lofty dour,
Seek her on the marble floor:
In vain ye search, she is not there;
In vain ye search the domes
Grass and flowers Quiet treads,
On the meads and mountain-heads,