CVI.

Then let the Winds howl on! their harmony Shall henceforth be my music, and the Night The sound shall temper with the owlets' cry, As I now hear them, in the fading light Dim o'er the bird of darkness' native site, Answering each other on the Palatine, With their large eyes, all glistening gray and bright, And sailing pinions.--Upon such a shrine What are our petty griefs?--let me not number mine.