The shady forest of its green attire,—
And let the bursting clouds to fury rouse
The gentle brooks!—Your desolating sway,
Sheds,' I exclaimed, 'no sadness upon me,[239]
And no disorder in your rage I find.
What dignity, what beauty, in this change
From mild to angry, and from sad to gay,
Alternate and revolving! How benign,
How rich in animation and delight,
How bountiful these elements—compared