Xviii

Though he had little cause to love the abode Of man, or covet sight of mortal face, Yet when faint beams of light that ruin showed, How glad he was at length to find some trace Of human shelter in that dreary place. Till to his flock the early shepherd goes, Here shall much-needed sleep his frame embrace. In a dry nook where fern the floor bestrows He lays his stiffened limbs,--his eyes begin to close;