Which skimm’d their tops, and shook the wavy trees.
III.
The sun descending, shot his golden beams
Askance, with many a cloud his ev’ning throne
Adorn’d; while mountains, woods, and lucent streams,
With the last blushes of his radiance shone.
IV.
Far stretching hence, Cambria’s rough heights I view,
Where Liberty long since forlorn retir’d,
Left fairer climes, and skies of brighter hue,