Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
England: Vols. I–IV. 1876–79.
The Dingle
By William Roscoe (17531831)S
Wanderest near this green retreat,
Where through gently bending slopes
Soft the distant prospect opes;
Decks the lonely valley’s side;
Where the white-throat chirps his song,
Flitting as thou tread’st along:
O’er the bending tufts of grass,
Bright gleaming through the encircling wood,
Once a Naiad rolled her flood.
Poured no far extended stream,
Yet along its grassy side
Clear and constant rolled the tide.
Lordly Mersey loved the maid;
Yonder rocks still mark the place
Where she met his stern embrace.
Why she mourns her wasted urn?
Soon a short and simple verse
Shall her hopeless fate rehearse.
That the upland prospect close,
Or ere along the startled shore
Echoed loud the cannon’s roar,
Careless left her cool retreat,
And by sultry suns opprest,
Laid her wearied limbs to rest;
To trace each humid tract of soil,
From dews and bounteous showers to bring
The limpid treasures of her spring.
She slept the circling hours away;
And when she oped her languid eye,
She found her silver urn was dry.
Hast listened to an idle song,
Whilst trifles thus thy notice share,
Hast thou no urn that asks thy care?