THE ENGLISH GARDEN. 3 



His eye would gliften, and his accents glow 



With all the poets frenzy, " Sov'reign Queen ! 



<e Behold, and tremble ! while thou view'ft her flate 25 



" Thron'd on the heights of Skiddaw j call thy art 



< To build her fuch a throne -, that art will fink 



" To its primeval nothing. Trace her march 



" Amid the purple craggs of Borrowdale; 



<f And try like thofe to pile thy range of rock 30 



" In rude tumultuous chaos. See ! fhe mounts 



" Her naiad car, and, down Lodore's dread cliff, 



" Falls many a fathom with the headlong flream -, 



" Falls, like the Bard my fabling fancy hurl'd 



" From the rough brow that frown'd o'er Conway's flood 5 3 5 



" Yet not like him to plunge in endlefs night j 



" For, on its boiling bofom, ftill fhe guides 



" Her buoyant fhell, and leads the wave along, 



" Or fpreads it broad, a river, or a lake, 



" As fuits her fov'reign pleafure ; will thy fong 40 



" E'er brace the fmews of enervate art 



*' To fuch dread daring ? will it ev'n direct 



A a " Her 



