The Banks of Wye | Page 2

o'er all below,?[Footnote A: Bury, or Burg, the Saxon name for a hill, particularly for one wholly or partially formed by art.]?Mansion, and flock, and circling woods that hung?Round the sweet pastures where the sky-lark sung.?O for the fancy, vigorous and sublime,?Chaste as the theme, to triumph over time!?Bright as the rising day, and firm as truth,?To speak new transports to the lowland youth,?That bosoms still might throb, and still adore,?When his who strives to charm them beats no more!
One August morn, with spirits high,?Sound health, bright hopes, and cloudless sky,?A cheerful group their farewell bade?To DURSLEY tower, to ULEY'S shade;?And where bold STINCHCOMB'S greenwood side.?Heaves in the van of highland pride,?Scour'd the broad vale of Severn; there?The foes of verse shall never dare?Genius to scorn, or bound its power,?There blood-stain'd BERKLEY'S turrets low'r,?A name that cannot pass away,?Till time forgets "the Bard" of GRAY.
Quitting fair Glo'ster's northern road,?To gain the pass of FRAMELODE,?Before us DEAN'S black forest spread,?And MAY HILL, with his tufted head,?Beyond the ebbing tide appear'd;?And Cambria's distant mountains rear'd?Their dark blue summits far away;?And SEVERN, 'midst the burning day,?Curv'd his bright line, and bore along?The mingled Avon, pride of song.
The trembling steeds soon ferry'd o'er,?Neigh'd loud upon the forest shore;?Domains that once, at early morn,?Rang to the hunter's bugle horn,?When barons proud would bound away;?When even kings would hail the day,?And swell with pomp more glorious shows,?Than ant-hill population knows.?Here crested chiefs their bright-arm'd train?Of javelin'd horsemen rous'd amain,?And chasing wide the wolf or boar,?Bade the deep woodland vallies roar.
Harmless we past, and unassail'd,?Nor once at roads or tumpikes rail'd:?Through depths of shade oft sun-beams broke,?Midst noble FLAXLEY'S bowers of oak;?And many a cottage trim and gay,?Whisper'd delight through all the way;?On hills expos'd, in dells unseen,?To patriarchal MITCHEL DEAN.?Rose-cheek'd Pomona there was seen,?And Ceres edg'd her fields between,?And on each hill-top mounted high,?Her sickle wav'd in extasy;?Till Ross, thy charms all hearts confess'd,?Thy peaceful walks, thy hours of rest?And contemplation. Here the mind,?With all its luggage left behind,?Dame Affectation's leaden wares,?Spleen, envy, pride, life's thousand cares,?Feels all its dormant fires revive,?And sees "the Man of Ross" alive;?And hears the Twick'nham Bard again,?To KYRL'S high virtues lift his strain;?Whose own hand cloth'd this far-fam'd hill?With rev'rend elms, that shade us still;?Whose mem'ry shall survive the day,?When elms and empires feel decay.?KYRL die, by bard ennobled? Never;?"The Man of Ross" shall live for ever;?Ross, that exalts its spire on high,?Above the flow'ry-margin'd WYE,?Scene of the morrow's joy, that prest?Its unseen beauties on our rest?In dreams; but who of dreams would tell,?Where truth sustains the song so well?
The morrow came, and Beauty's eye?Ne'er beam'd upon a lovelier sky;?Imagination instant brought,?And dash'd amidst the train of thought,?Tints of the bow. The boatman stript;?Glee at the helm exulting tript,?And way'd her flower-encircled wand,?"Away, away, to Fairy Land."?Light dipt the oars; but who can name?The various objects dear to fame,?That changing, doubting, wild, and strong,?Demand the noblest powers of song??Then, O forgive the vagrant Muse,?Ye who the sweets of Nature choose;?And thou whom destiny hast tied?To this romantic river's side,?Down gazing from each close retreat,?On boats that glide beneath thy feet,?Forgive the stranger's meagre line,?That seems to slight that spot of thine;?For he, alas! could only glean?The changeful outlines of the scene;?A momentary bliss; and here?Links memory's power with rapture's tear.
Who curb'd the barons' kingly power[A]??[Footnote A: Henry the Seventh gave an irrevocable blow to the dangerous privileges assumed by the barons, in abolishing liveries and retainers, by which every malefactor could shelter himself from the law, on assuming a nobleman's livery, and attending his person. And as a finishing stroke to the feudal tenures, an act was passed, by which the barons and gentlemen of landed interest were at liberty to sell and mortgage their lands, without fines or licences for the alienation.]?Let hist'ry tell that fateful hour?At home, when surly winds shall roar,?And prudence shut the study door.?DE WILTON'S here of mighty name,?The whelming flood, the summer stream,?Mark'd from their towers.--The fabric falls,?The rubbish of their splendid halls,?Time in his march hath scatter'd wide,?And blank oblivion strives to hide.
Awhile the grazing herd was seen,?And trembling willow's silver green,?Till the fantastic current stood,?In line direct for PENCRAIG WOOD;?Whose bold green summit welcome bade,?Then rear'd behind his nodding shade.?Here, as the light boat skimm'd along,?The clarionet, and chosen song,?That mellow, wild, Eolian lay,?"Sweet in the Woodlands," roll'd away,?In echoes down the stream, that bore?Each dying close to every shore,?And forward Cape, and woody range,?That form the never-ceasing change,?To him who floating, void of care,?Twirls with the stream, he knows not where;?Till bold, impressive, and sublime,?Gleam'd all that's left by storms and time?Of GOODRICH TOWERS. The mould'ring pile?Tells noble truths,--but dies the while;?O'er the steep path, through brake and briar,?His batter'd turrets still aspire,?In rude magnificence. 'Twas here?LANCASTRIAN HENRY spread his cheer,?When