Through the green vale that form’d the river’s bed;
And by unnumber’d cottages and farms,
That have for musing minds unnumbered charms;
And how affected by the view of these
Was then Orlando? did they pain or please?
Nor pain nor pleasure could they yield - and why?
The mind was fill’d, was happy, and the eye
Roved o’er the fleeting views, that but appear’d to die.
Alone Orlando on the morrow paced
The well-known road; the gipsy-tent he traced;