William Sotheby

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!