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| STRANGER! that with careless feet | |
| Wanderest near this green retreat, | |
| Where through gently bending slopes | |
| Soft the distant prospect opes; | |
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| Where the fern, in fringéd pride, | 5 |
| Decks the lonely valley’s side; | |
| Where the white-throat chirps his song, | |
| Flitting as thou tread’st along: | |
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| Know, where now thy footsteps pass | |
| O’er the bending tufts of grass, | 10 |
| Bright gleaming through the encircling wood, | |
| Once a Naiad rolled her flood. | |
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| If her urn, unknown to fame, | |
| Poured no far extended stream, | |
| Yet along its grassy side | 15 |
| Clear and constant rolled the tide. | |
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| Grateful for the tribute paid, | |
| Lordly Mersey loved the maid; | |
| Yonder rocks still mark the place | |
| Where she met his stern embrace. | 20 |
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| Stranger, curious, wouldst thou learn | |
| Why she mourns her wasted urn? | |
| Soon a short and simple verse | |
| Shall her hopeless fate rehearse. | |
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| Ere yon neighboring spires arose, | 25 |
| That the upland prospect close, | |
| Or ere along the startled shore | |
| Echoed loud the cannon’s roar, | |
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| Once the maid, in summer’s heat, | |
| Careless left her cool retreat, | 30 |
| And by sultry suns opprest, | |
| Laid her wearied limbs to rest; | |
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| Forgetful of her daily toil, | |
| To trace each humid tract of soil, | |
| From dews and bounteous showers to bring | 35 |
| The limpid treasures of her spring. | |
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| Enfeebled by the scorching ray, | |
| She slept the circling hours away; | |
| And when she oped her languid eye, | |
| She found her silver urn was dry. | 40 |
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| Heedless stranger! who so long | |
| Hast listened to an idle song, | |
| Whilst trifles thus thy notice share, | |
| Hast thou no urn that asks thy care? | |
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