Where DART romantic winds its mazy course,
And mossy rocks set 'neath the woody hills,
From whence each creeping rill its store distils,
And wandering waters join with rapid force;
There Nature's hand has wildly strewn her flowers,
And varying prospects strike the roving eyes;
Rough-hanging woods o'er cultur'd hills arise;
Thick ivy spreads around huge antic towers,
And fruitful groves
Scatter their blossoms fast as falling showers,
Perfuming ev'ry stream which o'er the landscape pours.