To chant your praise; [Gg] nor can approach you now
  Ungreeted by a more melodious Song,
  Where tones of Nature smoothed by learned Art
  May flow in lasting current.  Like a breeze 675
  Or sunbeam over your domain I passed
  In motion without pause; but ye have left
  Your beauty with me, a serene accord
  Of forms and colours, passive, yet endowed
  In their submissiveness with power as sweet 680
  And gracious, almost might I dare to say,
  As virtue is, or goodness; sweet as love,
  Or the remembrance of a generous deed,
  Or mildest visitations of pure thought,
  When God, the giver of all joy, is thanked 685
  Religiously, in silent blessedness;
  Sweet as this last herself, for such it is.

    With those delightful pathways we advanced,
  For two days’ space, in presence of the Lake,
  That, stretching far among the Alps, assumed 690
  A character more stern.  The second night,
  From sleep awakened, and misled by sound
  Of the church clock telling the hours with strokes
  Whose import then we had not learned, we rose
  By moonlight, doubting not that day was nigh, 695
  And that meanwhile, by no uncertain path,
  Along the winding margin of the lake,
  Led, as before, we should behold the scene
  Hushed in profound repose.  We left the town
  Of Gravedona [Hh] with this hope; but soon 700
  Were lost, bewildered among woods immense,
  And on a rock sate down, to wait for day. 
  An open place it was, and overlooked,
  From high, the sullen water far beneath,
  On which a dull red image of the moon 705
  Lay bedded, changing oftentimes its form
  Like an uneasy snake.  From hour to hour
  We sate and sate, wondering, as if the night
  Had been ensnared by witchcraft.  On the rock
  At last we stretched our weary limbs for sleep, 710
  But could not sleep, tormented by the stings
  Of insects, which, with noise like that of noon,
  Filled all the woods; the cry of unknown birds;
  The mountains more by blackness visible
  And their own size, than any outward light; 715
  The breathless wilderness of clouds; the clock
  That told, with unintelligible voice,
  The widely parted hours; the noise of streams,
  And sometimes rustling motions nigh at hand,
  That did not leave us free from personal fear; 720
  And, lastly, the withdrawing moon, that set
  Before us, while she still was high in heaven;—­
  These were our food; and such a summer’s night [Ii]
  Followed that pair of golden days that shed
  On Como’s Lake, and all that round it lay, 725
  Their fairest, softest, happiest influence.