412
Of that wild Spot, the Solitary said
In a low voice, yet careless who might hear,
"The Fire, that burned so brightly to our wish,
Where is it now? Deserted on the beach
It seems extinct; nor shall the fanning breeze
Revive its ashes. What care we for this,
Whose ends are gained? Behold an emblem here
Of one day's pleasure, and all mortal joys!
And, in this unpremeditated slight
Of that which is no longer needed, see
The common course of human gratitude!"
This plaintive note disturbed not the repose
Of the still evening. Right across the Lake
Our pinnace moves: then, coasting creek and bay,
Glades we behold—and into thickets peep—
Where couch the spotted deer; or raised our eyes
To shaggy steeps on which the careless goat
Browzed by the side of dashing waterfalls.
Thus did the Bark, meandering with the shore,
Pursue her voyage, till a point was gained
Where a projecting line of rock, that framed
A natural pier, invited us to land.
