Page:Beachy Head and Other Poems.pdf/127

Rh

By ash and elder: the refectory wall Oft in the storm of night is heard to fall, When, wearied by the labours of the day, The half awaken'd cotters, starting say, "It is the ruins of Saint Monica."

Now with approaching rain is heard the rill, Just trickling thro' a deep and hollow gill By osiers, and the alder's crowding bush, Reeds, and dwarf elder, and the pithy rush, Choak'd and impeded: to the lower ground Slowly it creeps; there traces still are found Of hollow squares, embank'd with beaten clay, Where brightly glitter'd in the eye of day The peopled waters of Saint Monica.