With Many A Pause And Oft Reverted Eye I Climb The Coomb'S Ascent: Sweet Songsters Near Warble In Shade Their Wild-Wood Melody: Far Off The Unvarying Cuckoo Soothes My Ear. Up Scour The Startling Stragglers Of The Flock That On Green Plots O'Er Precipices Browse: From The Deep Fissures Of The Naked Rock The Yew-Tree Bursts! Beneath Its Dark Green Boughs ('Mid Which The May-Thorn Blends Its Blossoms White) Where Broad Smooth Stones Jut Out In Mossy Seats, I Rest: -And Now Have Gained The Topmost Site. Ah! What A Luxury Of Landscape Meets My Gaze! Proud Towers, And Cots More Dear To Me, Elm-Shadowed Fields, And Prospect-Bounding Sea. Deep Sighs My Lonely Heart: I Drop The Tear: Enchanting Spot! O Were My Sara Here.