And mountain torrents held resistless sway
O’er my hush’d spirit; and the silent play
Of golden lights and gleamy shadowings
Chequer’d my veiled eyes, like seraphs’ wings,
That fan the crimson light of fading day.
I woke: the hum of traffic, and the din
Of mercenary crowds, fill’d the calm air:
I heard the voice of mendicant despair
Echo the hollow laugh of reckless sin;
And love was not, nor peace. Oh! let me win