THERE was a long, low, rushy dell, emboss’d With knolls of grass and clumps of copsewood green; Midway a wandering burn the valley cross’d, And streak’d with silvery line the woodland scene; High hills on either side to heaven upsprung, Y-clad with groves of undulating pine, Upon whose heads the hoary vapours hung, And far — far off the heights were seen to shine
