text:  And if _this_ sentient seething world Is after all ideal Or in the Immaterial furl'd Alone resides the Real FREED ONE! there's wail for thee this hour Through thy loved Elves' dominions[33]; Hush'd is each tiny trumpet-flower And droopeth Ariel's pinions; Even Puck dejected leaves his swing[34] To plan with fond endeavour What pretty buds and dews shall keep Thy pillow bright for ever