76
Loose hanging rocks the Day's bless'd eye that hide,
And [1]crosses reared to Death on every side,
Which with cold kiss Devotion planted near,
And bending water'd with the human tear;
That faded "silent" from her upward eye,
Unmoved with each rude form of Danger nigh,
Fixed on the anchor left by him who saves
Alike in whelming snows and roaring waves.
On as we move a softer prospect opes,
Calm huts, and lawns between, and sylvan slopes.
While mists, suspended on the expiring gale,
Moveless o'er-hang the deep secluded vale,
The beams of evening, slipping soft between,
Light up of tranquil joy a sober scene.
Winding its dark-green wood and emerald glade,
The still vale lengthens underneath the shade;
While in soft gloom the scattering bowers recede,
Green dewy lights adorn the freshened mead,
On the low [2]brown wood-huts delighted sleep
Along the brightened gloom reposing deep.
