With what fond gaze my eye pursues,
NEEDWOOD, thy sweetly-varying views!
Satyr, or Nymph, or sylvan God
A fairer circuit never trod!
Charm’d, as I turn, thy pictures seem
The golden fabricks of a dream.
Where Fiction stands with prism bright,
Rays forth her many-colour’d light,
Dyes the green herb, and purple flower,
Gives glittering lustres to the shower;