Whether , uplifting slow his dreamful head,
He leaves a couch the fragrant pine has strown,
Whether the dim, enchanted woods have known
The sleeper's unimperiled velvet tread;
Or whether, through some winding cavern led,
That, like the shell, rings drear with ocean's moan,
He wanders till the sea, wide, bright, and lone,
Beneath his visionary eye is spread—

Whether awake, or still by slumber bound,
Behold that shepherd with a world foregone,
To hoard the white rays of a mystic Dawn,—
A listener to aërial silver sound,
With subtle moonlight smile, devote, withdrawn,—
Behold Endymion, whom a Love unknown hath crowned!