Along this narrow valley you might see The wild deer sporting on the meadow ground, And, here and there, a solitary tree, Or mossy stone, or rock with woodbine crown'd. Oft did the cliffs reverberate the sound Of parted fragments tumbling from on high; And from the summit of that craggy mound The perching eagle oft was heard to cry, Or on resounding wings, to shoot athwart the sky.
One cultivated spot there was, that spread Its flowery bosom to the noonday beam, Where many a rosebud rears its blushing head, And herbs for food with future plenty teem. Sooth'd by the lulling sound of grove and stream, Romantic visions swarm on Edwin's soul: He minded not the sun's last trembling gleam, Nor heard from far the twilight curfew toll; When slowly on his ear these moving accents Stole:
"Hail, awful scenes, that calm the troubled breast, And woo the weary to profound repose! Can passion's wildest uproar lay to rest, And whisper comfort to the man of woes! Here innocence may wander, safe from foes, And Contemplation soar on seraph wings. O Solitude! the man who thee foregoes, When lucre lures him, or ambition stings, Shall never know the source whence real grandeur springs.
"Vain man! is grandeur given to gay attire? Then let the butterfly thy pride upbraid: To friends, attendants, armies, bought with hire? It is thy weakness that requires their aid: To palaces, with gold and gems inlaid? They fear the thief and tremble in the storm: To hosts, through carnage who to conquest wade? Behold the victor vanquish'd by the worm! Behold, what deeds of woe the locust can perform!
"True dignity is his whose tranquil mind Virtue has raised above the things below; Who every hope and fear to Heaven resign'd, Shrinks not, though Fortune aim her deadliest blow." This strain from 'midst the rocks was heard to flow In solemn sounds. Now beam'd the evening star; And from embattled clouds emerging slow Cynthia came riding on her silver car; And hoary mountain-cliffs shone faintly from afar.
Soon did the solemn voice its theme renew; (While Edwin wrapt in wonder listening stood) "Ye tools and toys of tyranny, adieu, Scorn'd by the wise, and hated by the good! Ye only can engage the servile brood Of Levity and Lust, who all their days, Asham'd of truth and liberty, have woo'd And hugg'd the chain that, glittering on their gaze, Seems to outshine the pomp of heaven's empyreal blaze.