Seated within a far sequestered dell,
What time upon the noiseless waters fell,
Mingled with length'ning leafy shade, a gleam
Of the departing sun's environ'd beam;
While all was hush'd, save that the lone death-bell
Would seem to beat, and pensive smite mine ear
Like spirit's wail, now distant far, now near:
Then the night-breeze would seem to chill my cheek,
And viewless beings flitting round, to speak!
And then, a throng of mournful thoughts would press