Where slept the glistening leaves and folded flowers
In dew and starlight—there, from grot and cave,
Gush’d in wild music many a sparkling wave;
There on each breeze the breath of fragrance rose,
And all was freshness, beauty, and repose.
But thou, dark monarch! in thy bosom reign
Storms that, once roused, shall never sleep again.
Oh! vainly bright is nature in the course
Of him who flies from terror or remorse!
A spell is round him which obscures her bloom,