And pure as dew bathing their crimson leaves.
Mount slowly, sun! that we may journey long,
By this dark hill protected from thy beams![116]
Such is the summer pilgrim's frequent wish;
But quickly from among our morning thoughts[117]
'Twas chased away: for, toward[118] the western side
Of the broad vale, casting a casual glance,
We saw a throng of people;—wherefore met?
Blithe notes of music, suddenly let loose
On the thrilled ear, and flags uprising, yield[119]