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there the island lay, the waves around Had never known a storm; for the north wind Was charm'd from coming, and the only airs That blew brought sunshine on their azure wings, Or tones of music from the sparry caves, Where the sea-maids make lutes of the pink conch. These were sea breezes,—those that swept the land Brought other gifts,—sighs from blue violets, Or from June's sweet Sultana, the bright rose,