"Here may no clamours harsh intrude, No brawling hound or clarion rude; 85 Here no fell beast of midnight prowl, And teach thy tortured cliffs to howl! III.

Oh! ye, enthroned in presidential awe, To give the song-smit generation law; Who wield Apollo's delegated rod, And shake Parnassus with your sovereign nod; A pensive Pilgrim, worn with base turmoils, Plebeian cares, and mercenary toils, Implores your pity, while with footsteps rude, He dares within the mountain's pale intrude; For, oh! enchantment through its empire dwells.

At tale of murderous deed, his ear No startling summons seem'd to hear; Yet should some sudden theme intrude Of friend betray'dingratitude; Or treacherous counselfollies nurs'd In ardent minds, who, dying, curs'd The guileful author of their woes; His troubled look would then disclose Some secret anguish, inward care, Which mutely, sternly, said, Forbear!