And mighty forms, seizing a youthful fancy,
  Had given a charter to irregular hopes. 335
  In any age of uneventful calm
  Among the nations, surely would my heart
  Have been possessed by similar desire;
  But Europe at that time was thrilled with joy,
  France standing on the top of golden hours, [e] 340
  And human nature seeming born again. [f]

    Lightly equipped, [g] and but a few brief looks
  Cast on the white cliffs of our native shore
  From the receding vessel’s deck, we chanced
  To land at Calais on the very eve 345
  Of that great federal day; [h] and there we saw,
  In a mean city, and among a few,
  How bright a face is worn when joy of one
  Is joy for tens of millions. [h] Southward thence
  We held our way, direct through hamlets, towns, [i] 350
  Gaudy with reliques of that festival,
  Flowers left to wither on triumphal arcs,
  And window-garlands.  On the public roads,
  And, once, three days successively, through paths
  By which our toilsome journey was abridged, [k] 355
  Among sequestered villages we walked
  And found benevolence and blessedness
  Spread like a fragrance everywhere, when spring
  Hath left no corner of the land untouched: 
  Where elms for many and many a league in files 360
  With their thin umbrage, on the stately roads
  Of that great kingdom, rustled o’er our heads, [m]
  For ever near us as we paced along: 
  How sweet at such a time, with such delight
  On every side, in prime of youthful strength, 365
  To feed a Poet’s tender melancholy
  And fond conceit of sadness, with the sound
  Of undulations varying as might please
  The wind that swayed them; once, and more than once,
  Unhoused beneath the evening star we saw 370
  Dances of liberty, and, in late hours
  Of darkness, dances in the open air
  Deftly prolonged, though grey-haired lookers on
  Might waste their breath in chiding. 
                                       Under hills—­
  The vine-clad hills and slopes of Burgundy, 375
  Upon the bosom of the gentle Saone
  We glided forward with the flowing stream, [n]
  Swift Rhone! thou wert the wings on which we cut
  A winding passage with majestic ease
  Between thy lofty rocks. [o] Enchanting show 380
  Those woods and farms and orchards did present
  And single cottages and lurking towns,
  Reach after reach, succession without end
  Of deep and stately vales!  A lonely pair
  Of strangers, till day closed, we sailed along, 385
  Clustered together with a merry crowd
  Of those emancipated, a blithe host
  Of travellers, chiefly delegates returning