SCENE IN FRANCE.— LOUTHERBOURG.

By William Lisle Bowles

Artist, I own thy genius; but the touch

May be too restless, and the glare too much:

And sure none ever saw a landscape shine,

Basking in beams of such a sun as thine,

But felt a fervid dew upon his phiz,

And panting cried, O Lord, how hot it is!