And, as I wake, sweet music breathe
Above, about, or underneath,
Sent by some Spirit to mortals good,
Or the unseen [Genius of the wood].
But let my due feet [never fail] 155
[To walk the studious cloister’s pale],
And love the high [embowed] roof,
With antique pillars [massy-proof],
[And storied windows richly dight],
Casting a dim religious light. 160