O’er flinty bed a River foams and roars,
Loud and impatient of meandering shores;
Or, deepen’d, shews the Sun his mirror’d face,
Or zones with silver light the mountain’s base.
Now come, with Mundy, where the Ruin lowers!
He hymns the dirge of the devasted Bowers.
Echo his wailings o’er their fallen state,
Whom Centuries hail’d irregularly great.
Come, execrate the Edict that destroy’d,
Leaving Time-hallow’d Needwood bare and void!