Yes, Joy shall see these scenes renew'd,
Shall wake his sister Gratitude,
Shall call on lawns and hills and dells
The silent echoes from their cells,
Long trains of golden years proclaim,
And Needwood ring with Vernon's name.'
He ceased, and shook his hoary brow:
Glad murmurs fill the vale below,
The deer in gambols bound along,
The plighted birds resume their song.
Thrice venerable Druid, hail!
O, may thy sacred words prevail,
May Needwood's oaks successive stand
The lasting wonder of the land!—
And may some powerful bard arise,
Though heaven to me that power denies,
The Pope or Denham of his days,
Whose lofty verse shall match their praise.
MUNDY *.
* This elegant writer, whose poem of Needwood Forest' has received the warm praise of Dr. Warton, Dr. Darwin, Miss Seward, and other literary characters, was descended from an ancient family of the county of Derby, in which county he possessed a considerable estate. One of his ancestors was Lord Mayor of London, in the reign of Henry the Eighth. His education was begun at Winchester, and completed at Oxford. It was, I believe, while he was at the University that he published his first work, a quarto volume of poems; and he is said to have been so disgusted by some illiberal criticisms that he resolved never again to appear in public in the character of an author. His Needwood Forest,' which was written in 1776, was accordingly printed only for the perusal of his friends. Mr. Mundy passed his life chiefly in his native county, was an active and intelligent magistrate, and generally presided at the quarter sessions. His death took place in 1816; and the grand jury of Derby recommended that a monument to his memory should be erected by subscription.
THOU that embosom'd in the dark retreat
Veil'st from profaner gaze thy hallow'd seat,
Genius of wild Llangollen! once again
I turn to thy rude haunts and savage reign:
Mid the gray cliffs that o'er yon heights impend,
O'ershadowing mountains that the vale defend,
Woods whose free growth the gloom of midnight
spreads,
And torrents foaming down their flinty beds,
Within thy shelter'd solitudes confined,
At distance from the murmur of mankind,
I soothe to peace the cares of life awhile,
And woo lone Nature's long-forgotten smile.
Loved vale! when o'er thee beam'd the spring-
And from thy heights slow sunk the summer day, From thy delightful scenery restrain❜d,
Far off by fond solicitude detain'd,
I watch'd where pain's wan eye sad vigils kept,
Or hung upon the couch where languor slept:
Bright Autumn fading, ere my footstep came,
On the illumined forest ceased to flame,
But now, while waning to his mournful end,
He sinks from sight like a departing friend,
Swift let me trace the varied views around,
Spread o'er the range of thy enchanted ground;
While yet upon the leaf pale hues appear,
And the last tint yet lingers on the year;
That, like the flush of the faint hectic, strays,
Wan-gleaming as the bloom of life decays.
While the retreating shadows of the night Sail from yon mountain's* dim-discover'd height, As up the steep my restless footsteps climb, And from the pathway brush the silver rime, Mute are the melodies that wake the morn, And silence reigns around the way forlorn. Vain my fond wish to gaze in magic trance O'er the unfolding valley's wide expanse; And from the breezes on the brow inhale The freshness of the spirit-stirring gale. Where late, by eve's pale radiance silver'd o'er, Dee wound her mazy wave from shore to shore; And the brown fallow, and the verdant field, And hill and dale, immingling, shone reveal'd; O'er the dank vale the vapour, streaming wide, Rolls onward like the ocean's foamy tide:
Thick darkness lours around, save where a beam
Touches the village spire with transient gleam;
Or, like a promontory's chalky brow,
The tower's hoar crest o'erhangs the flood below.
Dinas! + more beauteous thus, in late decay,
Thy castle, clothed with pensive colours gray;
+ The remains of Dinas Bran, one of the primitive Welsh castles, nearly cover the summit of a vast conoid hill, steeply sloped on every side. The founder is unknown. In the reign of Henry III. it was the retreat of Gryffyd ap Madog, who, traitorously confederating with the English against his countrymen, was obliged to secure himself from their vengeance in his aerial fastness. On the death of Gryffyd, Edward I. ungratefully bestowed on John, Earl Warren, the wardship of the eldest son of his old ally; as he did that of the second on Roger Mortimer. These lords caused their wards to be drowned under Holt Bridge, and took possession of their estate. An obscure tradition of their murder was current in the country, under the fable of two young fairies, who had been destroyed in that manner.' Pennant's Tour in Wales.
Bleak mountain! yet more beauteous thus thy head,
Untraced but by the stranger's lonely tread,
Than in thy gorgeous day, when tyrant power
With trophies hung thy far resplendent tower:
The British bard, at thy unhonour'd name,
Points to the wreck, a monument of shame!
'So fall the towers, by vengeful time defaced,
That stood when rebel arms their strength dis-
Moulder the walls that hid the traitor's head,
When Freedom to the field her Britons led!
Wretch! that expiredst within yon rocky mound,
By solitude and terror circled round,
Vain was thy hope on Edward that reposed;
Vain the last wish thy dying breath that closed.
Yet, ere the requiem bade thee peaceful rest,
Scarce cold the lip that utter'd the request,
A stranger's hand usurp'd thy ancient power,
A stranger's banner glitter'd on thy tower.
Lo! the defenders grateful Edward gave
To soothe thy spirit hovering o'er thy grave.
Stern Avarice and Murder stalk around,
Sole guardians thy forsaken infants found.
No parent on their death bed drops the tear,
No parent strews with flowers their honour'd bier:
But the rude hinds their fate obscure bewail,
Traced in the strange traditionary tale;
And village girls point weeping to the wave
Where fairies floated o'er their watery grave.'
So fly the dreams deluded youth recalls,
So fade the glories of the Gothic halls!
Where'er the castle rear'd its stately head,
Oppression prowl'd around, by murder fed.
Above the banquet foam'd, and unrestrain'd
Riot's swoln lip the' o'erflowing goblet drain'd;
While in the dungeon's gloomy cave beneath
Lurk'd Famine, listening to the cry of Death.
Stern age! at distance fair thy glories gleam,
And soft the lustre of thy setting beam.
Thus when the storm, that hid the golden day,
Has sunk into the west and fades away;
While on the furthest hill dark shadows lour,
The sunbeams strike on the receding shower,
From the illumined cloud gay colours shine,
And a new radiance gilds its swift decline.
The cataract, that from yon Alpine vale
Hoarse thunders on the wide-resounding gale,
Lures me to darksome paths, where Deva roars,
And sweeps with torrent flood the sounding shores.
Clear are the mountain streams that Cambria lave,
Beauteous the wooded banks that shade the wave;
Fair blooming on their glades the vernal flowers,
And sweet the birds that haunt their summer
bowers:
Yet nor the wooded bank, their stream that shades, Their silver currents, or their flowery glades Charm like the Dee's wild course, that varying [meads;
To rocks, dark groves, deep glens, and sunny
Beauties that, interchanged with new delight,
Shift like a scene of magic on the sight.
As bending o'er the bank, in pensive mood,
I gaze upon the swift descending flood;
Torrents from crag to crag that ceaseless thrown
Wear the rough rocks and smooth the polish'd
Then, whirl'd in eddies round the echoing cave, Silver with fleecy foam the distant wave; Visions of ancient glory swarm around,
And the dark glen becomes enchanted ground;
|