Bubbling runnels join'd the sound;
Through glades and glooms the mingled measure stole,
Or o'er some haunted stream with fond delay,
Round a holy calm diffusing,
Love of peace, and lonely musing,
In hollow murmurs died away."
Ode on the Passions.
This is the concentrated essence of poetry. Surely Gray had forgotten Collins when he penned the beautiful lines:
"But not to one in this benighted age,
Is that diviner inspiration given,