IV.

Yet thus it was. Amidst the fleet streams gushing To bring down rainbows o’er their sparry cell, And the glad heights, through mist and tempest rushing Up where the sun’s red fire-glance earliest fell, And the fresh pastures where the herd’s sweet bell Recall’d such life as Eastern patriarchs led; _There_ peasant men their free thoughts might not tell Save in the hour of shadows and of dread, And hollow sounds that wake to Guilt’s dull stealthy tread.