To the watery bells of the rivulet,
And all day long, purple and dun,
The vast moors stretch beneath the sun,
The wide wind passeth fresh and hale,
And whirring grouse and blackcock sail.
Ah, heavenly Peace, where dost thou dwell?
Surely ’twas here thou hadst a cell,
Till flaming Love, wandering astray
With fury and blood, drove thee away.—
Far down across the valley deep