At  further  end  the  creek,  a  stately  wood
Gave  a  kind  shadow  (to  the  brackish  flood)
Made  up  of  trees,  not  less  ken*d  by  each  skiff
Than  that  sky-scaling  peak  of  Teneriffe,
Upon  whose  tops  the  hemshew  bred  her  young,
And  hoary  moss  upon  their  branches  hung  ;
Whose  rugged  rinds  sufficient  were  to  show.
Without  their  height,  what  time  they  'gan  to  grov
And  if  dry  eld  by  wrinkled  skin  appears,
None  could  allot  them  less  than  Nestor's  years.
As  under  their  command  the  thronged  creek
Ran  lessen'd  up.     Here  did  the  shepherd  seek
Where  he  his  little  boat  might  safely  hide,
Till  it  was  fraught  with  what  the  world  beside
Could  not  outvalue  ;  nor  give  equal  weight
Though  in  the  time  when  Greece  was  at  her  height
•  •  •  «

Yet  that  their  happy  voyage  might  not  be
Without  time's  short'ner,  heav'n-taught  melody
(Music  that  lent  feet  to  the  stable  woods.
And  in  their  currents  tum'd  the  mighty  floods.
Sorrow's  sweet  nurse,  yet  keeping  joy  alive,
Sad  discontent's  most  welcome  corrosive.
The  soul  of  art,  best  loved  when  love  is  by.
The  kind  inspirer  of  sweet  poesy,
Least  thou  shouldst  wanting  be,  when  swans  would

fain
Have  sung  one  song,  and  never  sung  again)
The  gentle  shepherd,  hasting  to  the  shore.
Began  this  lay,  and  timed  it  with  his  oar.
Nevermore  let  holy  Dee

O'er  other  rivers  brave,
Or  boast  how  (in  his  jollity)
Kings  row'd  upon  his  wave.
But  silent  be,  and  ever  know
That  Neptune  for  my  fare  would  row.
Swell  then,  gently  swell,  ye  floods,

As  proud  of  what  ye  bear,
And  nymphs  that  in  low  coral  woods
String  pearls  upon  your  hair.
Ascend  ;  and  tell  if  ere  this  day
A  fairer  prize  was  seen  at  sea.
