of Courtfield."]
Nothing could damp th'awaken'd joy,
Not e'en thy fate, ingenuous boy;
The great, the grand of Nature strove,
To lift our hearts to life and love.
HAIL! COLDWELL ROCKS; frown, frown away;
Thrust from your woods your shafts of gray:
Fall not, to crush our mortal pride,
Or stop the stream on which we glide.
Our lives are short, our joys are few;
But, giants, what is time to you?
Ye who erect, in many a mass,
Rise from the scarcely dimpled glass,
That with distinct and mellow glow,
Reflect your monstrous forms below;
Or in clear shoals, in breeze or sun,
Shake all your shadows into one;
Boast ye o'er man in proud disdain,
An everlasting silent reign?
Bear ye your heads so high in scorn
Of names that puny man hath borne?
Would that the Cambrian bards had here
Their names carv'd deep, so deep, so clear,
That such as gaily wind along,
Might shout and cheer them with a song;
Might rush on wings of bliss away,
Through Fancy's boundless blaze of day!
Not nameless quite ye lift your brows,
For each the navigator knows;
Not by King Arthur, or his knights,
Bard faim'd in lays, or chief in fights:
But former tourists, just us free,
(Tho' surely not so blest as we,)
Mark'd towering BEARCROFT'S ivy crown,
And grey VANSITTART'S waving gown:
And who's that giant by his side?
"SERGEANT ADAIR," the boatman cried.
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