No jealousy their dawn of love o'ercast, 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 In truth, he was a strange and wayward wight, Down the vale thunders, and with wasteful sway Uproots the grove, and rolls the shattered rocks away. |