209
TO MR. S. T. COLERIDGE
1797.
Midway the hill of science, after steep
And rugged paths that tire the’ unpractised feet,
A grove extends ; in tangled mazes wrought,
And filled with strange enchantment:—dubious shapes
Flit through dim glades, and lure the eager foot
Of youthful ardour to eternal chase.
Dreams hang on every leaf: unearthly forms
Glide through the gloom; and mystic visions swim
Before the cheated sense. Athwart the mists,
Far into vacant space, huge shadows stretch,
And seem realities ; while things of life,
Obvious to sight and touch, all glowing round,
Fade to the hue of shadows—Scruples here,
