XIII.
Oh! marvel not if then he sought to trace
In all sublimities of sight and sound,
In rushing winds that wander through all space,
Or midst deep woods, with holy gloom embrown’d,
The oracles of Fate! or if the train
Of floating forms that throng the world of sleep,
And sounds that vibrate on the slumberer’s brain,
When mortal voices rest in stillness deep,
Were deem’d mysterious revelations, sent
From viewless powers, the lords of each dread element.