... ... TO NATURE'S pride,
Sweet Keswick's vale, the muse will guide:
The muse who trod th'enchanted ground,
Who sail'd the wond'rous lake around,
With you will haste once more to hail
The beauteous brook of Borrowdale.

From savage parent, gentle stream!
Be thou the muse's favourite theme:-
O soft insinuating glide
Silent along the meadow's side,
Smooth o'er the sandy bottom pass,
Resplendent all through fluid glass,
Unless upon thy yielding breast
Their painted heads the lilies rest,
To where in deep capacious bed,
The liquid lake is widely spread.

Let other streams rejoice to roar
Down the rough rocks of dread Lowdore,
Rush raving on with bois'trous sweep,
And foaming rend the 'frighted deep,
Thy gentle genius shrinks away
From such a rude unequal fray;
Through thine own native dale, where rise
Tremendous rocks amid the skies,
Thy waves with patience slowly wind, /