Written at Buxton in a Rainy Season

From these wild heights, where oft the mists descend
In rains that shroud the sun and chill the gale,
Each transient gleaming interval we hail,
And rove the naked valleys, and extend
Our gaze around where yon vast mountains blend
With billowy clouds that o'er their summits sail,
Pondering how little Nature's charms befriend
The barren scene, monotonous and pale,
Yet solemn when the darkening shadows fleet
Successive o'er the wide and silent hills,
Gilded by watery sunbeams :—then we meet
Peculiar pomp of vision. Fancy thrills;
And owns there is no scene so rude and bare
But nature sheds or grace or grandeur there.