SPIRIT that form'd this scene,These tumbled rock-piles grim and red,These reckless heaven-ambitious peaks,These gorges, turbulent-clear streams, this naked freshness,These formless wild arrays, for reasons of their own,I know thee, savage spirit—we have communed together,Mine too such wild arrays, for reasons of their own;Was't charged against my chants they had forgotten art?To fuse within themselves its rules precise and delicatesse?The lyrist's measur'd beat, the wrought-out temple's grace— column and polish'd arch forgot?But thou that revelest here—spirit that form'd this scene,They have remember'd thee.