To him doth nature’s mien appear,
Who midst her wilds would seek repose
From guilty pangs and vengeful foes!
For him the wind hath music dread,
A dirge-like voice that mourns the dead;
The forest’s whisper breathes a tone
Appalling, as from worlds unknown;
The mystic gloom of wood and cave
Is fill’d with shadow’s of the grave;
In noon’s deep calm the sunbeams dart