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They tremble, 'midst that scene so fair, Lest morn's first beam behold them there. —Wake, viewless wanderer! breeze of night; From river-wave, or mountain-height, Or dew-bright couch of moss and flowers, By haunted spring, in forest bowers; Or dost thou lurk in pearly cell, In amber grot, where mermaids dwell, And caverned gems their lustre throw, O'er the red sea-flowers' vivid glow? Where treasures, not for mortal gaze, In solitary splendour blaze; And sounds, ne'er heard by mortal ear, Swell through the deep's unfathomed sphere? What grove of that mysterious world, Holds thy light wing, in slumber furled? Awake! o'er glittering seas to rove, Awake! to guide the bark of love!

Swift fly the midnight hours, and soon Shall fade the bright propitious moon;