XXIII.
Through that deep solitude be his to stray,
By Faun and Oread loved in ages past,
Where clear Peneus winds his rapid way
Though the cleft heights, in antique grandeur vast.
Romantic Tempe! thou art yet the same—
Wild, as when sung by bards of elder time:[17]
Years, that have changed thy river’s classic name,[18]
Have left thee still in savage pomp sublime;
And from thine Alpine clefts and marble caves,
In living lustre still break forth the fountain waves.