And sees on high, amidst th' encircling groves,
From cliff to cliff the foaming torrents shine;
While waters, woods, and winds in concert join,
And Echo swells the chorus to the skies.

Would Edwin this majestic scene resign

For aught the huntsman's puny craft supplies? Ah! no; he better knows great Nature's charms to prize.

And oft he traced the uplands, to survey,

When o'er the sky advanced the kindling dawn,
The crimson cloud, blue main, and mountain grey,
And lake, dim gleaming on the smoky lawn:
Far to the west the long, long vale withdrawn,
Where twilight loves to linger for awhile;
And now he faintly kens the bounding fawn,
And villager abroad at early toil;

But, lo! the sun appears! and heaven, earth, ocean smile.

And oft the craggy cliff he loved to climb,
When all in mist the world below was lost.
What dreadful pleasure there to stand sublime,
Like shipwreck'd mariner on desert coast,
And view th' enormous waste of vapour, toss'd
In billows, length'ning to th' horizon round,

Now scoop'd in gulfs, with mountains now emboss'd! And hear the voice of mirth and song rebound, Flocks. herds, and waterfalls, along the hoar profound!

In truth, he was a strange and wayward wight,

Fond of each gentle and each dreadful scene.
In darkness and in storm he found delight;
Nor less, than when on ocean-wave serene
The southern sun diffus'd his dazzling sheen.
E'en sad vicissitude amus'd his soul;
And if a sigh would sometimes intervene,
And down his cheek a tear of pity roll,
A sigh, a tear so sweet he wish'd not to control.

See, in the rear of the warm sunny shower
The visionary boy from shelter fly;

For now the storm of Summer rain is o'er,
And cool, and fresh, and fragrant is the sky.
And, lo! in the dark east, expanded high,
The rainbow brightens to the setting sun!
Fond fool, that deem'st the streaming glory nigh;
How vain the chase thine ardour has begun!
'Tis fled afar, ere half thy purpos'd race be run.

When the long-sounding curfew from afar
Loaded with loud lament the lonely gale,
Young Edwin, lighted by the evening star,
Lingering and listening, wander'd down the vale.
There would he dream of graves and corses pale,
And ghosts that to the charnel-dungeon throng,
And drag a length of clanking chain, and wail,
Till silenc'd by the owl's terrific song,

Or blast that shrieks by fits the shuddering aisles along.