And maids as dew–drops pure and fair, his soul,
With grandeur filled, and melody, and love.
Then travel came and took him where he wished;
He cities saw, and courts, and princely pomp,
And mused alone on ancient mountain brows,
And mused on battle fields, where valor fought
In other days: and mused on men, grey
With years: and drank from old and fabulous wells,
And plucked the vine that first–born prophets plucked;
And mused on famous tombs, and on the wave