This heart that now so sluggish moves
Would startle once to hear the shout,
The laughter of the merry rout
That fled with Dian through the groves.

Then could I hear — O happy Then! —
The shrilling of Pan's pipe at morn,
Faint on the dewy breezes borne
From some far glade, untrod of men.

Then woke the hope, — that hope how vain! —
Leaving my flock upon the lea,
In echo-haunted Arcady
To join the ivy-wreathed train.

O Soul! too full-fed to aspire!
O sluggish Heart! win back your dreams.
How fairer than all triumph gleams
That idle hope, that foiled desire!