There, though at times Alpheus yet surveys,
On his green banks renew’d, the classic dance,
And nymph-like forms, and wild melodious lays,
Revive the sylvan scenes of old romance;
Yet brooding fear and dark suspicion dwell
Midst Pan’s deserted haunts, by fountain, cave, and dell.
LXX.
But thou, fair Attica! whose rocky bound
All art and nature’s richest gifts enshrined,
Thou little sphere, whose soul-illumined round