Thou who shalt stop, where Thames' translucent wave <br />Shines a broad Mirror thro' the shadowy Cave; <br />Where ling'ring drops from min'ral Roofs distill, <br />And pointed Crystals break the sparkling Rill, <br />Unpolish'd Gems no ray on Pride bestow, <br />And latent Metals innocently glow. <br />Approach! Great Nature studiously behold; <br />And eye the Mine without a wish for Gold. <br />Approach; but awful! Lo! th' Egerian Grot, <br />Where, nobly-pensive, St. John sate and thought; <br />Where British sighs from dying Wyndham stole, <br />And the bright flame was shot thro' Marchmont's Soul. <br />Let such, such only tread this sacred Floor, <br />Who dare to love their Country, and be poor.<br /><br />Alexander Pope<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/on-his-grotto-at-twickenham/
