Young palmer sun, that to the shining sands
  Pourest thy pilgrim’s tale, discoursing still
Thy silver passages of sacred lands,
  With news of Sepulchre and Dolorous Hill,

Canst thou be he that, Yester-Sunset warm,
  Purple with Paynim rage and wrack-...

  OUT of the hills of Habersham,
  Down the valleys of Hall,
I hurry amain to reach the plain,
Run the rapid and leap the fall,
Split at the rock and together again,
Accept my bed, or narrow or wide,
And flee from folly on every side
With a...