The Vale of Tempe had in vain been fair,
Green Ida never deemed the nurse of Jove;
Each fabled stream, beneath its covert grove,
Had idly murmured to the idle air;
The shaggy wolf had kept his horrid lair
In Delphi’s cell, and old Trophonius’ cave,
And the wild wailing of the Ionian wave
Had never blended with the sweet despair
Of...