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211
SONNET the NINTH.
[Tho' the group'd Trees that boast a wilder Grace]
Tho' the group'd Trees that boast a wilder Grace,Steal from the Painter's Art their varied Site,
And their rich Mass of Shadow and of Light,
Where Nature's seeming Negligence we trace;
Yet, ye long Avenues, of awful Height
And mystic Air,—shall Fancy dare efface
The hoary Grandeur of your Gothic Race?—
While spreading a Cathedral Gloom, unite
Your Pillars, in immeasurable Shade,
With the dim Arch, that waving to the Beam
Of sportive Day, for Ages, hath portray'd
The restless Image of a billowy Stream
Shot on the “chequer'd Earth,” whose Walks below
Dance to the cheated Eye, with undulating Flow!
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