The mountain stirr'd its bushy crown
And, as tradition teaches
Young ashes pirouetted down
Coquetting with young beeches;

And wasn't it a sight to see
When, ere his song was ended
Like some great landslip, tree by tree
The country-side descended;
And shepherds from the mountain-eaves
Look'd down, half-pleased, half-frighten'd
As dash'd about the drunken leaves
The random sunshine lighten'd!