Soft murmuring streams and gales of gentlest breath Melodious Philomela's wakeful strain Attemper, could not man's discerning ear Through all its tones the sympathy pursue, Nor yet this breath divine of nameless joy Steal through his veins and fan the awaken'd heart, Mild as the breeze, yet rapturous as the song? But were not Nature still endow'd at large With all that life requires, though unadorn'd 480 With such enchantment? Wherefore then her form So exquisitely fair? her breath perfumed With such ethereal sweetness? whence her voice Inform'd at will to raise or to depress The impassion'd soul? and whence the robes of light Which thus invest her with more lovely pomp Than Fancy can describe? Whence but from Thee, O source divine of ever-flowing love! And Thy unmeasured goodness? Not content With every food of life to nourish man, 490 By kind illusions of the wondering sense Thou mak'st all Nature beauty to his eye, Or music to his ear; well pleased he scans The goodly prospect, and with inward smiles Treads the gay verdure of the painted plain, Beholds the azure canopy of heaven, And living lamps that over-arch his head With more than regal splendour; bends his ears To the full choir of water, air, and earth; Nor heeds the pleasing error of his thought, 500 Nor doubts the painted green or azure arch, Nor questions more the music's mingling sounds, Than space, or motion, or eternal time; So sweet he feels their influence to attract The fixed soul, to brighten the dull glooms Of care, and make the destined road of life Delightful to his feet. So fables tell, The adventurous hero, bound on hard exploits, Beholds with glad surprise, by secret spells Of some kind sage, the patron of his toils, 510 A visionary paradise disclosed Amid the dubious wild; with streams, and shades, And airy songs, the enchanted landscape smiles, Cheers his long labours and renews his frame.