Th’ exhausted horses knew the well-trod ground,
And long’d to hear the groom’s inducing sound;
The grooms, they listen, and are glad to hear
The distant rumbling which disturbs the deer:
The whizzing whip re-echoed through the trees,
And Arnold’s voice came with the western breeze,—
The sound increased as forth they onward bore
In steady paces, to the mansion-door.
High up, in night, now sat “The dark-robed moon;”[199]
Whilst round about her purple-drapèd throne,