Classic Poem

14.

He said, and vanish'd — not unheard,
As near huge Adwick's cave he pass'd,
And took his homeward way;
How like the climber of the blast,
The noiseless-wing'd, night-haunting bird,
That, hunger-stung, and balk'd of prey,
Flaps, in vext flight, the forest grey!

15.

" That was not the rous'd bear's tread, "
Frenzied Adwick, listening, said;
" Nor the pack'd wolf's crowding rush;
Nor my dreaming runlet's gush;
Nor my night-dirge, in the bush;
Nor my cloud-song overhead.
Worse than wolf oft' watcheth here;
Worse than wolf inhabits near. "

16.

No limner was there, at his side,
To paint his lip of grief and pride,
The strife, where mind with madness strove;
The war of misery and love;
And check the pencil'd hand in fear,
Starting, these wilder words to hear.