170 AIvEXANDER WII^SON: POET-NATURALIST 



Where down smooth ghstening rocks it rambling 



pours, 

 Till in a pool its silent waters sleep, 

 A dark brown cliff o'ertopped with fern and flowers. 

 Hangs grimly frowning o'er the glassy deep ; 

 Above thro' ev'ry chink the woodbines creep. 

 And smooth bark beeches spread their anns around. 

 Whose roots cling twisted round the rocky steep : 

 A more sequester'd scene is no where found. 

 For contemplation deep and silent thought profound. 



Here many a tour the lonely tutor takes. 

 Long known to Solitude, his partner dear. 

 For rustling woods his empty school forsakes. 

 At morn, still noon, and silent evening clear. 

 Wild Nature's scenes amuse his wand'rings here; 

 The old gray rocks that overhang the stream. 

 The nodding flow'rs that on their peaks appear. 

 Plants, birds, and insects are a feast to him, 

 Howe'er obscure, deform'd, minute, or huge they seem. 



Sweet rural scenes ! unknown to poet's song, 

 Where Nature's charm in rich profusion lie, 

 Birds, fruits, and flowers, an ever pleasing throng, 

 Deny'd to Britain's bleak and northern sky. 

 Here Freedom smiles serene with dauntless eye. 

 And leads the exil'd stranger thro' her groves. 

 Assists to sweep the forest from on high, 

 And gives to man the fruitful field he loves, 

 Where proud imperious lord or tyrant never roves. 



In these green solitudes one fav'rite spot 

 Still draws his slow meanderings that way, 

 A mossy cliff beside a little grot, 

 Where two clear springs burst out upon the day. 

 There overhead the beechen branches play, 



