Page:The Poems of John Dyer (1903).djvu/22

 From house to house, from hill to hill, Till Contemplation had her fill. About his chequer'd sides I wind, And leave his brooks and meads behind, And groves and grottoes where I lay, And vistoes shooting beams of day. Wide and wider spreads the vale, As circles on a smooth canal: The mountains round, unhappy fate! Sooner or later, of all height, Withdraw their summits from the skies, And lessen as the others rise: Still the prospect wider spreads, Adds a thousand woods and meads; Still it widens, widens still, And sinks the newly-risen hill. Now I gain the mountain's brow, What a landskip lies below! No clouds, no vapours intervene; But the gay, the open scene Does the face of Nature show In all the hues of heaven's bow, And, swelling to embrace the light, Spreads around beneath the sight. Old castles on the cliffs arise, Proudly tow'ring in the skies; Rushing from the woods, the spires Seem from hence ascending fires; Half his beams Apollo sheds On the yellow mountain-heads, Gilds the fleeces of the flocks, And glitters on the broken rocks. Below me trees unnumber'd rise, Beautiful in various dyes;