The Grotto / Barry Cornwall

from Diego de Montilla

LIV

And often to a grotto did he hie
    Which in a lone and distant forest stood,
Just like a wood-nymph's haunt; and he would lie
    Beneath the cover of its arch so rude,
For there when the August sun had mounted high,
    And all was silent but the stock-dove's brood,
The whispering zephyr sometimes 'rose unseen,
And kissed the leaves and boughs of tender green.


LV

And every shrub that fond wind flatter'd cast
    Back a perfuming sigh, and rustling roll'd
Its virgin branches 'till they mov'd at last
    The neighbour tree, and the great forest old
Did homage to the zephyr as he past:
    And gently to and fro' the fruits of gold
Swayed in the air, and scarcely with a sound
The beeches shook their dark nuts to the ground.


LVI

Before the entrance of that grotto flow'd
    A quiet streamlet, cool and never dull,
Wherein the many-colour'd pebbles glow'd,
    And sparkled thro' its water beautiful,
And thereon the shy wild-fowl often rode,
    And on its grassy margin you might cull
Flowers and healing plants: a hermit spot
And, once seen, never to be quite forgot.

~~
Barry Cornwall (1787-1874)
from A Sicilian Story, with Diego de Montilla, and other poems, 1820.

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

Barry Cornwall biography

Daderot, Grotto, Stowe, Buckinghamshire, England. Public domain, Wikimedia Commons.