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, I must have the wheels of May, To guide me safely on my way, Before I dare again to climb The mountain precipice sublime— Or rove amid the mountain rocks— Or seek to quaff on yonder hill, The mead, with her of glossy locks; Oh, love to danger leads us still! Last night, by reckless love betrayed, I wandered through the midnight shade, O’er long-ridged hills with many a moor, And tangled thicket studded o’er; And oft with stumbling feet I fell O’er many a castle’s ruins bare: At last I reached the city, where The airy elves of darkness dwell! A vast green town, whose mansions drear High o’er the mountain’s summit peer: Chilled with an agony of fear, In vain I strove with sudden bound To fly the wild and haunted ground.