As slow we linger'd on the seas,
I inly blest each wayward breeze;
For still the graceful knight was near,
Prompt to discourse, relate, and hear:
The spirit had that exercise,
The fine perceptions' play,
That perish with the worldly wise,
The torpid, and the gay.

"In the strings of their lyres as the poets of old
Fresh blossoms were used to entwine;
As the shrines of their gods were enamell'd with gold,
And sparkling with gems from the mine:

"So, grac'd with delights that arise in the mind,
As through flowers, the language should flow!
While the eye, where we fancy all soul is enshrin'd,
With divine emanations should glow!

"The voice, or the look, gifted thus, has a charm
Remembrance springs onward to greet;
And thought, like an angel, flies, living and warm,
When announcing the moment to meet!

"And it was thus when Eustace spoke,
Thus brightly his ideas glanc'd,
Met mine, and smil'd as they advanc'd,
For all his fervour I partook,--
Pour'd out my spirit in each theme,
And follow'd every waking dream!