See where the limpid lake thro' pendant shades,
The hills between, her liquid treasures leads;
And to the boughs, that fringe her crisped sides,
Holds the clear mirror of her crystal tides:
Her crystal tides reflect the waving scene,
Their silvery surface darkening into green;
As on the steep banks, bending o'er the flood,
Grotesque and wild up springs th' o'ershadowing wood;
Or the slope margent, with a softer rise,
Shade above shade, and rank o'er rank supplies;
The verdant basis of yon' champain mound,
Its hallow'd head with God's own temple crown'd:
The home-bound mariner from far descries,
Emerging from the waves the tall tower rise;
With transport bids the solemn structure hail,
And wing'd for Britain speeds the flying sail.