Oh, thou surpassing beauty! that dost live Shrined in yon silent stream of glorious light! Spirit of harmony! that through the vast And cloud-embroidered canopy art spreading...
Flower of the mountain! by the wanderer's hand Robbed of thy beauty's short-lived sunny day; Didst thou but blow to gem the stranger's way, And bloom, to wither in the stranger's land?...
How passing sad! Listen, it sings again! Art thou a spirit, that amongst the boughs, The livelong day dost chaunt that wond'rous strain Making wan Dian stoop her silver brows...