Xv

Within that fabric of mysterious form, Winds met in conflict, each by turns supreme; And, from the perilous ground dislodged, through storm And rain he wildered on, no moon to stream From gulf of parting clouds one friendly beam, Nor any friendly sound his footsteps led; Once did the lightning's faint disastrous gleam Disclose a naked guide-post's double head, Sight which tho' lost at once a gleam of pleasure shed.