Poems: The First Part XVI by William Drummond Lyrics

Sweet brook, in whose clear crystal I mine eyes
Have oft seen great in labour of their tears;
Enamell'd bank, whose shining gravel bears
These sad characters of my miseries;
High woods, whose mounting tops menace the spheres;
Wild citizens, Amphions of the trees,
You gloomy groves at hottest noons which freeze,
Elysian shades, which Phoebus never clears;
Vast solitary mountains, pleasant plains,
Embroid'red meads that ocean-ways you reach;
Hills, dales, springs, all that my sad cry constrains
To take part of my plaints, and learn woe's speech,
Will that remorseless fair e'er pity show?
Of grace now answer if ye ought know. No.