No jealousy their dawn of love o'ercast,
Nor blasted were their wedded days with strife;
Each season looked delightful as it passed,

To the fond husband and the faithful wife.

WHERE the maze of some bewildered stream

To deep untrodden groves his footsteps led; There would he wander wild, till Phoebus' beam, Shot from the western cliff, released the weary team.

Lo! WHERE the stripling, wrapt in wonder, roves
Beneath the precipice o'erhung with pine;
And sees, on high, amidst th' encircling groves,
From cliff to cliff the foaming torrents shine:
While waters, woods, and winds in concert join,
And Echo swells the chorus to the skies.

In truth, he was a strange and wayward wight,
Fond of each gentle and each dreadful scene.
In darkness and in storm he found delight;
Nor less, than when on ocean-wave serene
The southern sun diffused his dazzling sheen.
The raven croaks forlorn on naked spray;
And, hark! the river bursting every mound,

Down the vale thunders, and with wasteful sway Uproots the grove, and rolls the shattered rocks away.