Were the sole echoes, save my steed's and mine,
And Vesper bell's that rose the boughs along;
The spectre huntsman of Onesti's line,
His hell-dogs, and their chase, and the fair throng
Which learned from this example not to fly
From a true lover,—shadowed my mind's eye.[225]
CVII.
Oh, Hesperus! thou bringest all good things—[226]
Home to the weary, to the hungry cheer,
To the young bird the parent's brooding wings,