XV.
The forests in their dark luxuriance waved,
With all their swell of strange Æolian sound;
The fearful deep, sole region ne’er enslaved,
Heaved, in its pomp of terror, darkly round.
Then, brooding o’er the images, imprest
By forms of grandeur thronging on his eye,
And faint traditions, guarded in his breast,
Midst dim remembrances of infancy,
Man shaped unearthly presences, in dreams,
Peopling each wilder haunt of mountains, groves, and streams.