GRONGAR HILL. John Dyer Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
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Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
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Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. T131163 K104099.001 Dodsley, Robert, 1703-1764. A Collection of Poems in Six Volumes. By Several Hands. Vol. I. London printed by J. Hughs, for R. and J. Dodsley 1763 [1st ed. 1758] pp. 214-219. 6v.: music; 8⁰.

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GRONGAR HILL . By Mr. Dyer . SILENT nymph , with curious eye ! Who , the purple ev'ning lie , On the mountain's lonely van , Beyond the noise of busy man , Painting fair the form of things , While the yellow linet sings ; Or the tuneful nightingale Charms the forest with her tale ; Come with all thy various hues , Come , and aid thy sister Muse ; Now while Phoebus riding high Gives lustre to the land and sky ! Grongar Hill invites my song , Draw the landskip bright and strong ; Grongar , in whose mossy cells Sweetly musing Quiet dwells ; Grongar , in whose silent shade , For the modest Muses made , So oft I have , the evening still , At the fountain of a rill , Sate upon a flow'ry bed , With my hand beneath my head ; While stray'd my eyes o'er Towy's flood , Over mead , and over wood , From house to house , from hill to hill , 'Till Contemplation had her fill . About his chequer'd sides I wind , And leave his brooks and meads behind , And groves and grottoes where I lay , And vistoes shooting beams of day : Wide and wider spreads the vale ; As circles on a smooth canal ; The mountains round , unhappy fate ! Sooner or later , all of height , Withdraw their summits from the skies , And lessen as the others rise ; Still the prospect wider spreads , Adds a thousand woods and meads , Still it widens , widens still , And sinks the newly-risen hill . Now , I gain the mountain's brow , What a landskip lies below ! No clouds , no vapours intervene , But the gay , the open scene Does the face of nature show , In all the hues of heaven's bow ! And , swelling to embrace the light , Spreads around beneath the sight . Old castles on the cliffs arise , Proudly tow'ring in the skies ! Rushing from the woods , the spires Seem from hence ascending fires ! Half his beams Apollo sheds On the yellow mountain-heads ! Gilds the fleeces of the flocks : And glitters on the broken rocks ! Below me trees unnumber'd rise , Beautiful in various dyes : The gloomy pine , the poplar blue , The yellow beech , the sable yew , The slender fir , that taper grows , The sturdy oak with broad-spread boughs . And beyond the purple grove , Haunt of Phillis , queen of love ! Gaudy as the op'ning dawn , Lies a long and level lawn , On which a dark hill , steep and high , Holds and charms the wand'ring eye ! Deep are his feet in Towy's flood , His sides are cloath'd with waving wood , And ancient towers crown his brow , That cast an aweful look below ; Whose ragged walls the ivy creeps , And with her arms from falling keeps ; So both a safety from the wind On mutual dependence find . 'Tis now the raven's bleak abode ; 'Tis now th' apartment of the toad ; And there the fox securely feeds ; And there the pois'nous adder breeds , Conceal'd in ruins , moss and weeds ; While , ever and anon , there falls Huge heaps of hoary moulder'd walls . Yet time has seen , that lifts the low , And level lays the lofty brow , Has seen this broken pile compleat , Big with the vanity of state ; But transient is the smile of fate ! A little rule , a little sway , A sun beam in a winter's day , Is all the proud and mighty have Between the cradle and the grave . And see the rivers how they run , Thro' woods and meads , in shade and sun , Sometimes swift , sometimes slow , Wave succeeding wave , they go A various journey to the deep , Like human life to endless sleep ! Thus is nature's vesture wrought , To instruct our wand'ring thought ; Thus she dresses green and gay , To disperse our cares away . Ever charming , ever new , When will the landskip tire the view ! The fountain's fall , the river's flow , The woody vallies , warm and low ; The windy summit , wild and high , Roughly rushing on the sky ! The pleasant seat , the ruin'd tow'r , The naked rock , the shady bow'r ; The town and village , dome and farm , Each give each a double charm , As pearls upon an Aethiop's arm . See on the mountain's southern side , Where the prospect opens wide , Where the evening gilds the tide ; How close and small the hedges lie ! What streaks of meadows cross the eye ! A step methinks may pass the stream , So little distant dangers seem ; So we mistake the future's face , Ey'd thro' hope's deluding glass ; As yon summits soft and fair , Clad in colours of the air , Which to those who journey near , Barren , brown , and rough appear ; Still we tread the same coarse way , The present's still a cloudy day . O may I with myself agree , And never covet what I see : Content me with an humble shade , My passions tam'd , my wishes laid ; For while our wishes wildly roll , We banish quiet from the soul : 'Tis thus the busy beat the air ; And misers gather wealth and care . Now , ev'n now , my joys run high , As on the mountain-turf I lie ; While the wanton Zephyr sings , And in the vale perfumes his wings ; While the waters murmur deep ; While the shepherd charms his sheep ; While the birds unbounded fly , And with musick fill the sky , Now , ev'n now , my joys run high . Be full , ye courts , be great who will ; Search for peace with all your skill : Open wide the lofty door , Seek her on the marble floor , In vain you search , she is not there ; In vain ye search the domes of care ! Grass and flowers Quiet treads , On the meads and mountain-heads , Along with Pleasure , close ally'd Ever by each other's side : And often , by the murm'ring rill , Hears the thrush , while all is still , Within the groves of Grongar Hill .