Returns our tale the enchanted path to trace
Where youth's fond visions rise with fair but fleeting grace.
Far up the dale, where Lynden's ruined towers
O'erlooked the valley from the old oak wood,
A lake blue gleaming from deep forest bowers,
Spread its fair mirror to the landscape rude:
Oft by the margin of that quiet flood,
And through the groves and hoary ruins round,
Young Arthur loved to roam in lonely mood;
Or here, amid tradition's haunted ground,