This praise but mocks thee, whilst thou soar’st above

Such vague assaults, in nature’s witchery!

Thou art a pearl, snatched from the angry deep,

A star, which envy hurled from comrade suns,

An opal, where all rays reflected sleep,

The summer lightning, glistering as it runs;

All things that loveable and lovely are,

Such thou appearest, in thy joyous hour;

Oft frolicsome as leaves, that dance from far,

When the wind dallies with some pensive flower;

All these thou art yet all of these express

Nought of the magic of thy loveliness.

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{12}

XII.

Lovely in joy but grander yet when rage

O’erflows the dams that reason interposed,

The barriers past, themselves must, loath, engage

And swell the tumult they’d have fain opposed;

There, once enlisted, shows the scene so fair,

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