On Ide Hill

overlooking Exeter.

O fairest native city, thou art crowned
With an enthralHng beauty. Ay! a queen
Enthroned conspicuous o'er the glorious scene,
Tak'st homage from the gazing hills around.
A thousand years protecting watch and ward
These guardians have held, and loving wiles
Oft used to pleasure thee, now wreathed in smiles,
And in gray glooms anon. Their influence reared
Thy tall cathedral's majesty: it stands
In eloquent calm grandeur, and its tale
Speaks to the stars,—how works by human hands
And through man's brain the Universal Soul!
Fringes thee round with leafy dusk the vale,
And 'neath the blue a pomp of cloud doth roll!