Page:The Art of Preserving Health - A Poem in Four Books.djvu/74

66 The Esk, o'erhung with woods; and such the stream On whose Arcadian banks I first drew air, Liddal; till now, except in Doric lays Tun'd to her murmurs by her love-sick swains, Unknown in song: Tho' not a purer stream, Thro' meads more flow'ry, or more romantic groves, Rolls toward the western main. Hail sacred flood! May still thy hospitable swains be blest In rural innocence; thy mountains still Teem with the fleecy race; thy tuneful woods For ever flourish; and thy vales look gay With painted meadows, and the golden grain! Oft, with thy blooming sons, when life was new, Sportive and petulant, and charm'd with toys, In thy transparent eddies have I lav'd: Oft trac'd with patient steps thy fairy banks, Rh