The steep and rugged path to try,
Though sweet the shepherds calls and sings,
And sear’d below the pastures lie,
Till in his arms his lambs he takes,
Along the dizzy verge to go:
Then, heedless of the rifts and breaks,
They follow on o’er rock and snow.
And in these pastures, lifted fair,
More dewy-soft than lowland mead,
The shepherd drops his tender care,