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But ill my burthen'd heart could bear Its after loneliness of care; The calmness round seem'd but to be   A mockery of grief and me,— The azure flowers, the sunlit sky, The rill, with its still melody, The leaves, the birds,—with my despair, The light and freshness had no share: The one unbidden of them all To join in summer's festival.

I wander'd first to many a shrine By zeal or ages made divine; And then I visited each place Where valour's deeds had left a trace; Or sought the spots renown'd no less For nature's lasting loveliness.