To move, think, feel with powers enlarged:
Nor that no more my bed the wave,
Ere morning dawn’d, might prove my grave:—
A livelier chord was struck: a spell,
While heav’d my heart with gentle swell,
Crept o’er my soul with magic sweet,
And made each pulse responsive beat.
No Sheep-bell e’er to Pilgrim’s ear,
Wandering in woods unknown and drear;
No midnight lay to Spanish maid,