Page:The Seasons - Thomson (1791).djvu/119

 Of a near fall of water every sense Wakes from the charm of thought: swift-shrinking back, I check my steps, and view the broken scene.

to the shelving brink a copious flood Rolls fair, and placid; where collected all, In one impetuous torrent, down the steep It thundering shoots, and shakes the country round. At first, an azure sheet, it rushes broad; Then whitening by degrees, as prone it falls, And from the loud-resounding rocks below Dash'd in a cloud of foam, it sends aloft A hoary mill, and forms a ceaseless shower. Nor can the tortur'd wave here find repose: But, raging still amid the shaggy rocks, Now flashes o'er the scatter'd fragments, now Aslant the hollow'd channel rapid darts; And falling fast from gradual slope to slope, With wild infracted course, and lessen'd roar, It gains a safer bed, and steals, at last, Along the mazes of the quiet vale.

from the cliff, to whose dark brow He clings, the steep-ascending eagle soars, With upward pinions thro' the flood of day; And, giving full his bosom to the blaze, Gains on the sun; while all the tuneful race, Smit by affiictive noon, disorder'd droop, Deep in the thicket; or, from bower to bower Responsive, force an interrupted strain. The stock~dove only thro' the forest cooes, Mournfully hoarse; oft ceasing from his plaint, Short interval of weary woe! again The sad idea of his murder'd mate, Struck from his side by savage fowler's guile, Across