O! when the growling winds contend, and all
The sounding forest fluctuates in the storm,
To sink in warm repose, and hear the din 290
Howl o’er the steady battlements, delights
Above the luxury of vulgar sleep.
The murmuring rivulet, and the hoarser strain
Of waters rushing o’er the slippery rocks,
Will nightly lull you to ambrosial rest. 295
To please the fancy is no trifling good,
Where health is studied; for whatever moves