By some sequestered lake in forests hid,

Or pebble-paven urn, the cradle cool

Of tiny brook, or gently lapsing stream.

Legends there are of fallen kings, who held

Their exiled courts beneath the forest boughs;

Better their faded state in such pure haunts,

Than when it shone in haughty palaces!

O POWER OF MUSIC

O power of Music! whence thy spell