XXVII.

What if his thoughts, with erring fondness, gave Mysterious sanctity to things which wear Th’ Eternal’s impress?--if the living wave, The circling heavens, the free and boundless air-- If the pure founts of everlasting flame, Deep in his country’s hallow’d vales enshrined, And the bright stars maintain’d a silent claim To love and homage from his awe-struck mind? Still with his spirit dwelt a lofty dream Of uncreated Power, far, far o’er these supreme.