And painting’s wonders, sculpture’s magic grace, 485
Which bids the rock a god’s bright features trace.
No, here, beneath the “branching elms star-proof,”
Rises in peace the low and simple roof;
Birds sing above, and flowers blossom nigh,
And the blue glimpses of the cloudless sky 490
Through woven boughs and russet thatch look forth,
Like thoughts of heav’n amid the cares of earth!
And here pure thoughts and holiest visions come,
And find within this grot their tranquil home;