BOOK FIRST. THE WANDERER. 'Twas summer, and the sun had mounted high : A surface dappled o'er with shadows, flung Of some huge cave, whose rocky ceiling casts Where the wren warbles; while the dreaming Man, With side-long eye looks out upon the scene, Upon that open level stood a Grove, The wished-for Port to which my steps were bound. Thither I came, and there-amid the gloom Spread by a brotherhood of lofty elms Appeared a roofless Hut; four naked walls Him whom I sought; a Man of reverend age, But stout and hale, for travel unimpaired. An iron-pointed staff lay at his side. Hım had I marked the day before-alone And in the middle of the public way Stationed, as if to rest himself, with face Turned tow'rds the sun then setting, while that staff Afforded to his Figure, as he stood, Detained for contemplation or repose, Graceful support; the countenance of the Man Childhood up We were tried Friends: I from my |