On
Leaving
Steephill
,
August
,
M
DCC
XC.
YE
towering
hills
,
whose
front
sublime
The
misty
vapour
often
shrouds
,
Whose
summits
,
braving
envious
time
,
Aspire
to
pierce
the
vagrant
clouds
!
Ye
trees
,
that
to
the
balmy
gale
,
Low
murmuring
,
bow
your
verdant
heads
!
Ye
lavish
flowers
,
that
scent
the
vale
Where
rosy
Health
delighted
treads
!
Ye
streams
,
that
through
the
meadow
stray
In
many
a
wild
fantastic
round
,
Or
,
sparkling
,
urge
your
rapid
way
O'er
rocks
with
bending
osiers
crown'd
!
Ye
whitening
cliffs
,
that
o'er
the
main
In
dreadful
majesty
arise
,
Whose
dangers
to
elude
,
in
vain
Too
oft
the
trembling
sailor
tries
!
Each
varied
scene
,
whose
native
charms
Excel
what
Fancy
ever
drew
,
Where
,
shelter'd
in
Retirement's
arms
,
Contentment
sweetly
rests
,
adieu
!
And
thou
,
romantic
,
straw-roof'd
cot
,
Whose
walls
are
from
dissension
free
,
The
hours
shall
never
be
forgot
,
The
happy
hours
I've
pass'd
in
thee
!
Where
Hospitality
presides
,
And
pours
from
Plenty's
copious
horn
;
Where
unaffected
Worth
resides
,
And
festive
Mirth
gilds
every
morn
.
O
may
they
long
exert
their
power
,
Long
guard
from
ill
this
blest
retreat
,
And
ever
,
through
life's
chequer'd
hour
,
With
smiles
of
peace
its
owners
greet
!
And
may
no
blast
e'er
rend
these
trees
,
Or
spoil
this
garden's
gaudy
bloom
,
But
the
soft
shower
and
gentle
breeze
Preserve
its
colour
and
perfume
!
Ah
me
!
I
must
no
more
delay
,
For
see
the
swelling
sails
in
view
;
The
wind
propitious
chides
my
stay
,
Romantic
cot
,
again
adieu
!