And sought with upright look his native skies.
XXI.
Thus as I paus’d, still louder swell’d the notes,
From ev’ry bush, and brake, and echoing hill;
While choirs cœlestial seem’d to tune their throats,
And, with glad voice the chearful chorus fill.
XXII.
Then, by some magic pow’r swift snatch’d away,
Ev’n to the midst of that delightful land,
I view’d at once all clad in bright array,