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The silver Thames in classic pride,
And Kennet's mingled waters glide
And meads in richest verdure green,
Hedge rows and straw-roof'd cots are seen,
And spires high tap'ring to the skies,
And graceful villas frequent rise.
And Kennet's mingled waters glide
And meads in richest verdure green,
Hedge rows and straw-roof'd cots are seen,
And spires high tap'ring to the skies,
And graceful villas frequent rise.
Full smoothly flows the lay that tells,
Of smiling vales and gentle swells;
But how can I, a lowland maid,
Rear'd in fair Berkshire's softest shade;
Us'd to the slowly-weeping rill,
The forest rich, the fertile hill,
The balmy gale that gently blows,
Scarce ruffling the expanded rose:
How, my sweet mountain nymph, can I
Sing the dark grandeur, stern and high,
That frowns beneath your northern sky?
Of smiling vales and gentle swells;
But how can I, a lowland maid,
Rear'd in fair Berkshire's softest shade;
Us'd to the slowly-weeping rill,
The forest rich, the fertile hill,
The balmy gale that gently blows,
Scarce ruffling the expanded rose:
How, my sweet mountain nymph, can I
Sing the dark grandeur, stern and high,
That frowns beneath your northern sky?
