Gaping with hideous chinks, the whistling blast
Perpetual raves, and fierce-descending rains
Discharge their fury—dire, lethargic dews
Oppress my drowsy sense; still fancy teems
With fond ideal joys, and, fir’d with what
Or poets sing, or fabled tale records,
Presents transporting visions; goblets crown’d
With juice of nectar, or the food divine
Of rich ambrosia, tempting to the sight!
While, in the shade of some embowering grove,