Page:Scotish Descriptive Poems - Leyden (1803).djvu/49

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CLYDE;

A POEM.

Thy arching groves, O Clyde, thy fertile plains, Thy towns and villas, claim my filial strains. Ye Powers! who o'er these winding dales preside, Who shake the woods, who roll the river's tide Who wake the sylvan song, whose pencils pour The forms of beauty o'er each painted flower; Inspire the numbers, let the verse display The charms that grace the imitative lay. When gently flows the stream, then let the song In softest, easiest numbers glide along: 10When swell'd with rains, o'er rocks it rages fierce,Swell, rage, and roar, and thunder in my verse.  And thou! to whom indulgent Heaven consigned The power to bless, the fair angelic mind;
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