That mounts not toward the radiant morning sky,
But, with a less ambitious sympathy, 5
Hangs o’er its Parent waking to the cares
Troubles and toils that every day prepares.
So Fancy, to the musing Poet’s eye,
Endears that Lingerer. And how blest her sway[267]
(Like influence never may my soul reject)[268] 10
If the calm Heaven, now to its zenith decked[269]
With glorious forms in numberless array,
To the lone shepherd on the hills disclose