Skirid, a Hill near Abergavenny

SKIRID! remembrance thy loved scene renews;

Fancy, yet lingering on thy shaggy brow,

Beholds around the lengthened landscape glow,

Which charmed, when late the day-beam’s parting hues

Purpled the distant cliff. The crystal stream

Of Usk bright winds the verdant meads among;

The dark heights lower with wild woods o’erhung;

Pale on the gray tower falls the twilight gleam,

And frequent I recall the sudden breeze,

Which, as the sun shot up his last pale flame,

Shook every light leaf shivering on the trees:

Then, bathed in dew, meek evening silent came,

While the low wind, that faint and fainter fell,

Soft murmured to the dying day—Farewell!