| |
| YE hills, who have for ages stood | |
| Sublimely in your solitude, | |
| Listening the wild water’s roar, | |
| As thundering down, from steep to steep, | |
| Along your wave-worn sides they sweep, | 5 |
| Dashing their foam from shore to shore. | |
| |
| Wild birds, that loved the deep recess, | |
| Fell beast that roved the wilderness, | |
| And savage men once hover’d round: | |
| But startled at your bellowing waves, | 10 |
| Your frowning cliffs, and echoing caves, | |
| Affrighted fled the enchanted ground. | |
| |
| How changed the scene!—your lofty trees, | |
| Which bent but to the mountain breeze, | |
| Have sunk beneath the woodman’s blade; | 15 |
| New sun-light through your forest pours, | |
| Paths wind along your sides and shores, | |
| And footsteps all your haunts invade. | |
| |
| Now boor, and beau, and lady fair, | |
| In gay costume each day repair, | 20 |
| Where thy proud rocks exposed stand, | |
| While echo, from her old retreats, | |
| With babbling tongue strange words repeats, | |
| From babblers on your stony strand. | |
| |
| And see—the torrent’s rocky floor, | 25 |
| With names and dates all scribbled o’er, | |
| Vile blurs on nature’s heraldry; | |
| O bid your river in its race, | |
| These mean memorials soon efface, | |
| And keep your own proud album free. | 30 |
| |
| Languid thy tides, and quell’d thy powers, | |
| But soon Autumnus with his showers, | |
| Shall all thy wasted strength restore; | |
| Then will these ramblers down thy steep, | |
| With terror pale their distance keep, | 35 |
| Nor dare to touch thy trembling shore. | |
| |
| But spare, Oh! river, in thy rage, | |
| One name upon thy stony page; | |
| ’Tis hers—the fairest of the fair; | |
| And when she comes these scenes to scan, | 40 |
| Then tell her, Echo, if you can, | |
| His humble name who wrote it there. | |
| |
