That in their different courses as they pass,
Rush violently down precipitate,
Or slowly turn, oft resting, up the steep.
Mark how that road, with mazes serpentine,
From Shipton’s[5] bottom to the lofty down
Winds like a path of pleasure, drawn by art
Through park or flowery garden for delight.
Nor less delightful this—if, while he mounts
Not wearied, the free Journeyer will pause
To view the prospect oft, as oft to see