KESWICK.— SIR GEORGE BEAUMONT.

How shall I praise thee, Beaumont, whose nice skill Can mould the soft and shadowy scene at will; Chastise to harmony each gaudy ray, Simple, yet grand, the mountain scene display; The lake where sober evening seems to sleep, Hills far retiring into umbrage deep; Blend all with classic, pure, poetic taste, And strike the more with forms and colours chaste!