O’er fretted walls and shining peristyles.
And well might Fancy deem thy fabrics lone,
So vast, so silent, and so wildly fair,
Some charm’d abode of beings all unknown,
Powerful and viewless, children of the air.
For there no footstep treads th’ enchanted ground,
There not a sound the deep repose pervades,
Save winds and founts, diffusing freshness round,
Through the light domes and graceful colonnades.
Far other tones have swell’d those courts along