INTRODUCTORY ESSAY. 



VI. 



Oh, my beloved Nymph ! fair Dove ! 

 Princess of Rivers ! how I love 



Upon thy flowery banks to lie, 

 And view thy silver stream, 

 When gilded by a Summer's beam ! 



And in it, all thy wanton fry, 



Playing at liberty : 

 And, with my Angle upon them, 



The all of treachery 



I ever learn'd industriously to try. 



VII. 



Such streams, Rome's yellow Tiber cannot show, 



The Iberian Tagus, or Ligurian Po ; 



The Maese, the Danube, and the Rhine, 



Are puddle-water all, compared with thine : 



And Loire's pure streams yet too polluted are 



With thine much purer to compare ; 



The rapid Garonne, and the winding Seine, 



Are both too mean, 



Beloved Dove, with thee 



To vie priority ; 



Nay, Thame and Isis when conjoin'd, submit, 



And lay their trophies at thy silver feet. 



VIII. 



Oh, my beloved rocks ! that rise 



To awe the earth and brave the skies : 



From some aspiring mountain's crown, 



How dearly do I love, 

 Giddy with pleasure, to look down, 



And from the vales, to view the noble heights above ! 

 Oh, my beloved caves! from Dog star's heat, 

 And all anxieties, my safe retreat ; 



