XXVII.

Oh! still unblamed may fancy fondly deem That, lingering yet, benignant genii dwell Where mortal worth has hallow’d grove or stream, To sway the heart with some ennobling spell; For mightiest minds have felt their blest control In the wood’s murmur, in the zephyr’s sigh, And these are dreams that lend a voice and soul, And a high power, to Nature’s majesty! And who can rove o’er Grecian shores, nor feel, Soft o’er his inmost heart, their secret magic steal?