As if (so Grecian shepherds would have deemed)
The Hamadryad, pent within, bewailed
Some bitter wrong.[DW] Nor is it unbelieved,
By ruder fancy, that a troubled ghost
Haunts the old trunk;[391] lamenting deeds of which
The flowery ground is conscious. But no wind
Sweeps now along this elevated ridge;
Not even a zephyr stirs;—the obnoxious Tree
Is mute: and, in his silence, would look down,
O lovely Wanderer of the trackless hills,