Then whistle as shrill as the buzzard cock;
—Yet seek him,—and what shall you find in the place?
Nothing but silence and empty space;
Save, in a corner, a heap of dry leaves,
That he's left, for a bed, to beggars or thieves!
As soon as 'tis daylight to-morrow, with me,
You shall go to the orchard, and then you will see
That he has been there, and made such a rout,
And cracked the branches, and strewn them about;
Heaven grant that he spare but that one upright twig