 | Lyra Pastoralis |  |
The Springs, Skell Bank
LONDESBOROUGH PARK, WHERE A SEAT WAS MADE FOR ME BY ORDER OF MY LIFE-FRIEND, THE LATE EARL OF LONDESBOROUGH
This haunt of rest, where tinkling waters flow,And hawthorns clothe the bank from sky to base,
And the still lake spreads out its tranquil face
The mirrored beauty of the trees to show,
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To Him, my Friend, whose kindness was a grace
Encircling and ennobling rank and place,
And shedding all around a genial glow.
To Him I owe this sheltered sylvan nest
Dear to the Muse; to Him my home of peace,
My happy leisure and my labour blest:
And so I pray, God grant Him sweet release
From sorrow, in the Paradise of rest,
Where the “fresh springs” of gladness never cease!
| Lyra Pastoralis | |