Above the hidden force
Of demons toiling in eternal night,
Its silv’ry thread, for ever glad and bright.
The Wood-Nymphs give their shadiest coverts green,
Spread out fresh turf and flowers,
And clothe the banks which the brooks glide between
With everlasting bowers.
Thus were the rocks thrown upward by the Gnome
Made pleasant spots for future man to roam.
In the most exquisite of these sweet vales