Would his temerity by Heaven be blest?
Would God nurse zephyrs on the whirlwind’s breast?
LXVII.
Whilst musing thus, and onward moving still,
His soul o’ershadowed with suspicious fears,
He gained the summit of a towering hill,
And downward gazed.—Far stretched beneath appears
A woodland plain; and murmurs harsh and shrill,
As from accordant voices, on his ears