ON
A
GROTTO
near
the
THAMES
,
at
TWICKENHAM
,
Composed
of
Marbles
,
Spars
,
and
Minerals
.
By
Mr.
POPE
.
THOU
who
shalt
stop
,
where
Thames'
translucent
wave
Shines
a
broad
mirrour
through
the
shadowy
cave
,
Where
lingering
drops
from
mineral
roofs
distill
,
And
pointed
crystals
break
the
sparkling
rill
,
Unpolish'd
gems
no
ray
on
pride
bestow
,
And
latent
metals
innocently
glow
:
Approach
.
Great
NATURE
studiously
behold
!
And
eye
the
mine
without
a
wish
for
gold
.
Approach
:
But
aweful
!
Lo
th'
Egerian
grott
,
Where
,
nobly-pensive
,
ST.
JOHN
sate
and
thought
;
Where
British
sighs
from
dying
WYNDHAM
stole
,
And
the
bright
flame
was
shot
thro'
MARCHMONT'S
soul
.
Let
such
,
such
only
,
tread
this
sacred
floor
,
Who
dare
to
love
their
country
,
and
be
poor
.