Or the glad sweet laugh of their healthful flow
Is heard midst the hamlets low.
Or whether ye gladden the desert sands
With a joyous music to pilgrim bands,
And a flash from under some ancient rock,
Where a shepherd king might have watch’d his flock,
Where a few lone palm-trees lift their heads,
And a green acacia spreads.
Or whether, in bright old lands renown’d,
The laurels thrill to your first-born sound,