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No sound is heard, save when the loosen'd rock

Thund'ring down the torrent, breaks on the ear

Of silence, or the robber, from his lone

And ruin'd watch-tow'r gathering his bands, 620

Wakens the echoes with his whistle shrill.

Heavily rise the long blue clouds of smoke From yonder hamlet, and in wavy folds Unrolling slowly to the moon's pale ray, Streak the deep shades of night; the kindling fire, 625 At first half-smother'd, casts a livid glare Upon the lowest wreaths, till bursting forth In one o'erwhelming blaze it upward shoots Its pointed spires, and with a bloody tint Stains ev'ry object; crag, and tree, and mosque, 630 And tap'ring pinnacle, reflect the light, And glow more vivid 'midst th' impending gloom. Wide spreads the deadly ravage; ev'ry cot Pours forth its inmates; youth and hoary age, Rous'd from their slumbers, crowd in haste along, 635 Tearing their locks and garments, as they gaze On the devouring flame; but hark! a cry Of louder woe appals the ear, a shriek

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Of female agony, and now the shouts

As of contending hosts—they come, they come, 640

The robbers of the mountains, and amidst

The wild uproar, rush on their trembling prey,

Tear the young daughter from the aged sire,

And from her lover drag the weeping bride;

The night re-echoes with the voice of grief, 64 5

And shrieks and wailings load the mournful breeze.

His forehead veil'd in wreaths of mist, his brow
White with the age of an eternal snow,
His giant form, furrow'd with channels deep,
By wint'ry torrents worn, Parnassus bursts 650
The twilight gloom which slumbers at his feet,
And meets the rising ray.—Ye Delphian shades,
Ye dreary solitudes, ye terrors stern,
Of cave and yawning dell, where Silence holds
Her empire unmolested, save by sounds 65 5

Of savage melody, the wild beasts' roar,
Or rush of distant waters; ye gray rocks,
Cleft by the midnight tempest, shooting high
Your rugged tops, with grass and lichen wreath'd,
To Heav'n; ye olive groves, which wave your boughs 660
To the hoarse blast that sweeps the mountain's breast,
With pleasing dread I view you, and confess
An awe which overpow'rs, yet charms the soul.

Whence did the bards, who in the choirs of Greece
Struck their wild harps to list'ning multitudes, 66 5
Their inspiration draw? Say, mighty Shades,
Whence came your Heav'nly visions, whence the pow'r
To thrill the soul, to pour the flood of joy,
Or call the willing tear down beauty's cheek?
'Our lips we bath'd in dews of Castalie.' 6 70

Is your responsive murmur—Vain reply—
Ye sought indeed that sacred fount, and bow'd
To taste its stream; Nature stood by and smil'd.
'Weak mortals' (she exclaim'd) ' dash from your lips

* The cup, and roam with me; climb the rough path 67 5

* Where human foot ne'er trod; explore the glen 'Where dark projecting rocks exclude the day;

'Pass fearless o'er the knotted trunk athwart

1 The torrent thrown; ascend the time-ting'd cliff,

* And view beneath you the broad ocean's wave 680 'Rolling in amber floods; this be your draught

'Of inspiration, this your Castalie.'

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