Affords. The chrystal rivulet, that o’er 70
A stony channel rolls its rapid maze,
Swarms with the silver fry. Such, thro’ the bounds
Of pastoral Stafford, runs the brawling Trent;
Such Eden, sprung from Cumbrian mountains; such
The Esk, o’erhung with woods; and such the stream 75
On whole Arcadian banks I first drew air,
Liddal; till now, except in Doric lays
Tun’d to her murmurs by her love-sick swains,
Unknown in song: Tho’ not a purer stream,