My sinful soul!—together all!
Those fiends upon a shaking fen
Fix'd me, in dark tempestuous night;
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There never trod the foot of men;
There flock'd the fowl in wint'ry flight;
There danced the moor's deceitful light
Above the pool where sedges grow;
And, when the morning-sun shone bright,
It shone upon a field of snow.