86 LANDSCAPE AND LITERATURE 



The ruffling wind, scarce conscious that it blew, 



While admiration, feeding at the eye, 



And still unsated, dwelt upon the scene. 



Thence with what pleasure have we just discerned 



The distant plough slow-moving, and beside 



His labouring team, that swerved not from the track, 



The sturdy swain diminished to a boy ! 



Here Ouse, slow-winding through a level plain 



Of spacious meads with cattle sprinkled o'er, 



Conducts the eye along his sinuous course 



Delighted. There, fast rooted in their bank, 



Stand, never overlooked, our favourite elms, 



That screen the huntsman's solitary hut ; 



While far beyond, and overthwart the stream, 



That, as with molten glass, inlays the vale, 



The sloping land recedes into the clouds ; 



Displaying, on its varied side, the grace 



Of hedge-row beauties numberless, square tower, 



Tall spire, from which the sound of cheerful bells 



Just undulates upon the listening ear, 



Groves, heaths, and smoking villages remote.' ! 



No scene could have been more thoroughly con- 

 genial to such a temperament as that of Cowper. He 

 never wearied of the sights and sounds of that peace- 

 ful landscape. He watched its changes from hour 

 to hour, from day to day, and from season to season. 

 Every change awakened new joy in his breast, and 

 gave fresh inspiration to his verse. And so year after 

 year he lived in closest communion with nature. 

 Well might he say that 



* Scenes must be beautiful which, daily viewed 

 Please daily, and whose novelty survives 

 Long knowledge and the scrutiny of years.' 2 



1 The Task, bk. i. 154-176. *lbid., i. 177. 



