Page:Sir Martyn (1777).djvu/18

Rh Yet oft, as penive through thee lawns I tray, Unbidden tranports through my boome well; With pleaing reverence awd mine eyes urvey The hallowed hades where trung his hell. The brooke till murmurs through the buhy dell, Still through the woodlands wild and beauteous rie The hills green tops; till from her mos-white cell Complayning Echoe to the tockdove ighs, And Fancy, wandering here, till feels new extacies.

Then come, ye Genii of the place! O come, Ye wilde-wood Mues of the native lay! Ye who thee bancks did whilom contant roam, And round your ever gladom play! Oh come once more! and with your magick ray These lawns tranforming, raie the mytick cene—— The lawns already own your vertual way, Proud citys rie, with eas and wildes atweene; In one enchanted view the various walks of men.