XXIV.

'Where now the rill, melodious, pure, and cool, 'And meads, with life, and mirth, and beauty, crowned! 'Ah! see, the unsightly slime, and sluggish pool, 'Have all the solitary vale imbrowned; 'Fled each fair form, and mute each melting sound. 'The raven croaks forlorn on naked spray: 'And, hark! the river, bursting every mound, 'Down the vale thunders; and, with wasteful sway, 'Uproots the grove, and rolls the shattered rocks away.