| |
| WHO long for rest, who look for pleasure | |
| Away from counter, court, or school | |
| O where live well your lease of leisure | |
| But here at, here at Penmaen Pool? | |
| |
| You’ll dare the Alp? you’ll dart the skiff?— | 5 |
| Each sport has here its tackle and tool: | |
| Come, plant the staff by Cadair cliff; | |
| Come, swing the sculls on Penmaen Pool. | |
| |
| What’s yonder?—Grizzled Dyphwys dim: | |
| The triple-hummocked Giant’s stool, | 10 |
| Hoar messmate, hobs and nobs with him | |
| To halve the bowl of Penmaen Pool. | |
| |
| And all the landscape under survey, | |
| At tranquil turns, by nature’s rule, | |
| Rides repeated topsyturvy | 15 |
| In frank, in fairy Penmaen Pool. | |
| |
| And Charles’s Wain, the wondrous seven, | |
| And sheep-flock clouds like worlds of wool, | |
| For all they shine so, high in heaven, | |
| Shew brighter shaken in Penmaen Pool. | 20 |
| |
| The Mawddach, how she trips! though throttled | |
| If floodtide teeming thrills her full, | |
| And mazy sands all water-wattled | |
| Waylay her at ebb, past Penmaen Pool. | |
| |
| But what’s to see in stormy weather, | 25 |
| When grey showers gather and gusts are cool?— | |
| Why, raindrop-roundels looped together | |
| That lace the face of Penmaen Pool. | |
| |
| Then even in weariest wintry hour | |
| Of New Year’s month or surly Yule | 30 |
| Furred snows, charged tuft above tuft, tower | |
| From darksome darksome Penmaen Pool. | |
| |
| And ever, if bound here hardest home, | |
| You’ve parlour-pastime left and (who’ll | |
| Not honour it?) ale like goldy foam | 35 |
| That frocks an oar in Penmaen Pool. | |
| |
| Then come who pine for peace or pleasure | |
| Away from counter, court, or school, | |
| Spend here your measure of time and treasure | |
| And taste the treats of Penmaen Pool. | 40 |
| |
| See Notes. |
| |
