XXIII.

He said, and turned away; nor did the Sage O'erhear, in silent orisons employed. The Youth, his rising sorrow to assuage, Home as he hied, the evening scene enjoyed: For now no cloud obscures the starry void; The yellow moonlight sleeps on all the hills; Nor is the mind with startling sounds annoyed; A soothing murmur the lone region fills, Of groves, and dying gales, and melancholy rills.