And watch o'er his slumbers with sisterly care.
Then one would roam forth for his favourite flower,
And twine a fair wreath for his delicate brow;
Or weave round him sleeping a fairy-like bower,
By drooping and tangling the hazel's green bough.
But now to return to our friar, who still
Is trying his utmost to catch and to kill
A few members more of the slippery tribe,
With fine red worms dangling by way of a bribe.
The sun long had risen, whose powerful ray