(Her flowers were shed) the lily of the vale,[KW]
That loves the ground, and from the sun withholds
Her pensive beauty; from the breeze her sweets.
545
Such product, and such pastime, did the place
And season yield; but, as we re-embarked,
Leaving, in quest of other scenes, the shore
Of that wild spot, the Solitary said
In a low voice, yet careless who might hear,
"The fire, that burned so brightly to our wish,