Page:The Leadbeater Papers (1862) Vol 1.djvu/31
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1766.]
THE ANNALS OF BALITORE.
17
Slow she retires, and turns again,
As loath to leave the lovely plain;
While buxom Summer, bright and fair,
Comes sailing on the glowing air,
And joys in Griese's silver wave
Her loose ambrosial locks to lave.
Then come, my friend, and taste once more
The beauties of sweet Ballitore;
This charming spot, where joys abound,
By rising hills encompass'd round;
Fair hills, which rear the golden brow,
And smile upon the vale below.
Let us begin, where fair and wide,
Grac'd with young elms on either side,
The lov'd Mill-avenue we tread,
Dear to the daughters of the shade.
As some fair virgin sits retir'd,
In lovely, lowly state admir'd,
Her beauties but in part reveal'd,
The rest in modest guise conceal'd;
So Ballitore from hence is seen,
Half hid in shades of deepest green.
Where'er one turns his raptur'd sight,
The beauteous landscape gives delight,
The verdant groves, the enamell'd meads,
The rising hills, and opening glades;
Neat houses here and there he sees
Dispers'd among the tufted trees;
The cultur'd fields with plenty blest,
In summer's pride the gardens drest,
The crystal streams, which gently flow,
Diffusing nurture as they go;
And Griese, that, with meandering glide,
Past the sweet village rolls its tide.
As loath to leave the lovely plain;
While buxom Summer, bright and fair,
Comes sailing on the glowing air,
And joys in Griese's silver wave
Her loose ambrosial locks to lave.
Then come, my friend, and taste once more
The beauties of sweet Ballitore;
This charming spot, where joys abound,
By rising hills encompass'd round;
Fair hills, which rear the golden brow,
And smile upon the vale below.
Let us begin, where fair and wide,
Grac'd with young elms on either side,
The lov'd Mill-avenue we tread,
Dear to the daughters of the shade.
As some fair virgin sits retir'd,
In lovely, lowly state admir'd,
Her beauties but in part reveal'd,
The rest in modest guise conceal'd;
So Ballitore from hence is seen,
Half hid in shades of deepest green.
Where'er one turns his raptur'd sight,
The beauteous landscape gives delight,
The verdant groves, the enamell'd meads,
The rising hills, and opening glades;
Neat houses here and there he sees
Dispers'd among the tufted trees;
The cultur'd fields with plenty blest,
In summer's pride the gardens drest,
The crystal streams, which gently flow,
Diffusing nurture as they go;
And Griese, that, with meandering glide,
Past the sweet village rolls its tide.