The dew-swept circle of the elfin dance—
These woodlands teem with sportive fay and faun—
These grottoes glimmer with sweet Echo's glance.
Perchance a future Homer might have wrought
From out the scattered wreck of ages fled,
Some long lost Troy, where mighty heroes fought,
And made the earth re-echo with their tread!
VI.
It may not be, for though these scenes are fair,
As fabled Arcady—the sylph and fay,