Midst the crown’d heights of joy and liberty,
And thoughts of power. He knew each path which led
To the rock’s treasure caves, whose crystal shed
Soft light o’er secret fountains. At the tone
Of his loud horn the Lammer-Geyer[233] had spread
A startled wing—for oft that peal had blown
Where the free cataract’s voice was wont to sound alone.
XXII.
His step had track’d the waste, his soul had stirr’d
The ancient solitudes—his voice had told