GRONGAR HILL
Silent Nymph! with curious eye,
Who, the purple ev'ning, He
On the mountain's lonely van,
Beyond the noise of busy man,
Painting fair the form of things,5
While the yellow linnet sings,
Or the tuneful nightingale
Charms the forest with her tale;
Come, with all thy various hues,
Come, and aid thy sister Muse;10
Now while Phœbus, riding high,
Gives lustre to the land and sky,
Grongar Hill invites my song;
Draw the landscape bright and strong;
Grongar in whose mossy cells,15
Sweetly musing Quiet dwells;
Grongar, in whose silent shade,
For the modest Muses made,
So oft I have, the ev'ning still,
At the fountain of a rill20
Sat upon a flow'ry bed,
With my hand beneath my head,
While stray'd my eyes o'er Towy's flood,
Over mead and over wood,
