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LEWESDON HILL.

Up to thy summit, Lewesdon, to the browOf yon proud rising, where the lonely thornBends from the rude South-east, with top cut sheerBy his keen breath, along the narrow trackBy which the scanty-pastured sheep ascendUp to thy furze-clad summit, let me climb;My morning exercise; and thence look roundUpon the variegated scene, of hills,And woods, and fruitful vales, and villagesHalf-hid in tufted orchards, and the seaBoundless, and studded thick with many a sail.

Ye

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