16 UEXKY KIRKE WHITE S POEJIS. 



And cliffs, that boldlj rise above the plain, 



Bespeak, blest Clifton ! thy sublime domain. 



Here, lonely wandering o'er the sylvan bower, 



I come to pass the meditative hour ; 



To bid awhile the strife of passion cease, 



And woo the calms of solitude and peace. 



And oh ! thou sacred power, who rear'st on high 



Thy leafy throne where waving poplars sigh ! 



Genius of woodland shades ! whose mild control 



Steals with resistless witchery to the soul. 



Come with thy wonted ardour and inspire 



My glowing bosom with thy hallowed fire. 



And thou, too. Fancy ! from thy starry sphere, 



Where to the hymning orbs thou lend'st thine ear, 



Do thou descend, and bless my ravish'd sight, 



Veil'd in soft visions of serene delight. 



At thy command the gale that passes by 



Bears in its whispers mystic harmony. 



Thou wav'st thy wand, and lo ! what forms appeay I 



On the dark cloud what giant shapes career ! 



The ghosts of Ossian skim the misty vale. 



And hosts of Sylphids on the moonbeam sail. 



This gloomy alcove, darkling to the sight, 



Where meeting trees create eternal night ; 



Save when from yonder stream the sunny ray 



Reflected gives a dubious gleam of day ; 



Recals endearing to my alter'd mind, 



Times when, beneath the boxen hedge reclined, 



I watch'd the lapwing to her clamorous brojd ; 



Or lured the robin to its scatter'd food, 



Or woke with song the woodland echo wild, 



And at each gay response delighted smiled. 



How oft, when childhood threw its golden raj 



Of gay romance o'er every happy day, 



Here would I run, a visionary boy, 



When the hoarse tempest shook the vaulted sky, 



And, fancy-led, beheld the Almighty's form 



Sternly careering on the eddying storm ; 



