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To his worn cheek; or with uneasy shame
For those cold humours of habitual spleen,
Which, fondly seeking in dispraise of Man
Solace and self-excuse, had sometimes urged
To self-abuse, a not ineloquent tongue.
—Right tow'rds the sacred Edifice his steps
Had been directed; and we saw him now
Intent upon a monumental Stone,
Whose uncouth Form was grafted on the wall
Or rather seemed to have grown into the side
Of the rude Pile; as oft-times trunks of trees,
Where Nature works in wild and craggy spots,
Are seen incorporate with the living rock;
To endure for aye. The Vicar, taking note
Of his employment, with a courteous smile
Exclaimed, "The sagest Antiquarian's eye
That task would foil." And, with these added words,
He thitherward advanced, "Tradition tells
That, in Eliza's golden days, a Knight
Came on a War-horse sumptuously attired,
And fixed his home in this sequestered Vale.
'Tis left untold if here he first drew breath,
Or as a Stranger reached this deep recess,
