Channeled and worn by pacing to and fro;
Lausanne, where Gibbon in his sheltered walk
Nightly called up the Shade of ancient Rome;
Or Coppet and that dark untrodden grove
Sacred to Virtue and a daughter’s tears!
“Here would I dwell, forgetting and forgot,
And oft methinks (of such strange potency
The spells that Genius scatters where he will)
Oft should I wander forth like one in search,
And say, half-dreaming:—‘Here St. Preux has stood.’