XXIII

The Lovers took within this ancient grove

Their last embrace; beside those crystal springs

The Hermit saw the Angel spread his wings

For instant flight; the Sage in yon alcove

Sate musing; on that hill the Bard would rove,

Not mute, where now the linnet only sings:

Thus every where to truth Tradition clings,

Or Fancy localises Powers we love.

Were only Historylicensed to take note

Of things gone by, her meagre monuments

Would ill suffice for persons and events:

There is an ampler page for man to quote,

A readier book of manifold contents,

Studied alike in palace and in cot.