As fairy-like it wanders round,
With deep-toned music midst the trees,
Gives forth his harp’s entrancing sound.
Each mountain soars in richer hues,
Each rock gives forth a sound of fame,
And streams in murmurs sweet diffuse
The gentle sound of Wordsworth’s name.
O could Parnassus’ far famed peak,
Or Castalie’s resplendent spring,
More glorious feeling in us wake