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As yet to ken of human eyes ;
And there the glow-worm's lamp supplies
The beam that lights my sparry dome,
And thousand fire-fies shining bright,
Have made my pleasant cave their home:
My pleasant cave they cheer with light,
Along the fretted roof they blaze,
And dart their many twinkling rays.

III.

My cavern walls, so bright and fair,
Are crusted o'er with jewels rare;
There all the treasures of the mine,
Arranged in radiant order, shine;
The flaming topaz there is seen,
The glowing ruby, sapphire blue,
The emerald there of lively green,
The opal with its changing hue;
And spiral columns stand beneath,
Bedecked with many a diamond wreath.

IV.

Each fragrant leaf and beauteous flower
Gives bloom, gives odour to my bower;

And Nature's softest, sweetest bed,
The verdant moss, beneath is spread;
And in the centre of my cave
A little silver fountain flows;
Its grassy margin while they lave,
Its waters lull me to repose,
With murmur and melodious sound,
And throw a grateful coolness round.

V.

In dewy cot or cool arcade
I rest, till twilight's welcome shade
Has veiled the welkin, till the blaze
And fervid glow of noon-tide rays
Is quenched by the soft breath of eve :
But when the night-air stirs the trees,
My loved retreat I gladly leave,
To snuff the fragrance of the breeze,
To see the western wave on fire,
To see the sun's last light expire.

VI.

I dearly love to view the beam
Of moonlight dancing on the stream,

To hear the strangely-whispered sounds,
With which the night's first hour abounds;
To hear the sweetly-warbled tune
Of nightingales, that pour their song
Beneath the cold and silent moon,
The shrubs and tangled brakes among;
Oh sweet it is, when breezes play
And cool the air, to hear their lay.

VII.

Nor less when fearful whirlwinds swell
The blast that howls through my lone dell;
When, shooting down with vivid flash,
Against the crags blue lightnings dash,
I gambol madly in the storm ;
And while the shades of many a cloud
With horrid gloom the skies deform,
While torrents roar, and winds blow loud,
I frolic in the rushing rain,
And dance upon the heaving main.

VIII.

Then, as my watchful rounds I keep,
I skim the surface of the deep,

And mark where bends the labouring mast
Beneath the fury of the blast;
I see the vessel work her way
Through eddying foam ; I see her plough

l
The rolling waves, while dashing spray
Drives o'er her sides, and hides her prow,
And, mingling with the wind's deep moan,
I hear the seaman's fearful groan.

IX.

And then, with guardian hands, I guide
The vessel steadying through the tide ;
With hope the seaman's breast I fill,
And bid the stormy waves be still;
The ocean's furious rage I quell,
And bid the gentler breezes flow;
They breathe, subsiding, soon the swell
Is hushed, and smooth the waters flow:
Once more serene, old Ocean smiles,
Rejoicing with his thousand isles.

And if I come too late to save
The vessel from the whelming wave,

I seek the sinking crew, I bear
The half-drowned sailor by the hair,
I row him through the briny surge
To where, with woods and green fields crowned,
From Ocean's azure breast emerge
Fair smiling isles in circling round,
Then bid the tepid breezes flow,
And dry his wet locks as they blow.

XI.

Then point I out the squirrel's hoard,
Then point I out what trees afford
Safe nourishment and wholesome food
Among the treasures of the wood.
I guide to where sweet berries grow,
Where earth-nuts in the turf abound,
Where limpid rills and fresh streams flow,
And beauteous blossoms deck the ground:
And midst the thicket's maze I roam
To seek the wood-bee's nectared comb.

XII.

When thirst is slaked, and hunger gone,
When pain and weariness are flown,

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