text:  Germ'd in the mystic buds reposing A whole creation slumber'd mute Alas when from the buds unclosing How scant and blighted sprung the fruit! How happy in his dreaming error His own gay valour for his wing Of not one care as yet in terror Did Youth upon his journey spring; Till floods of balm through air's dominion Bore upward to the faintest star-- For never aught to that bright pinion Could dwell too high or spread too far