[233] At each end of the town.
CHAPTER THE FIFTH.
I.
When now (that morn) Aurora ope’d the course,
And Sol strode forth, eight charmers bid discourse;
Their firstling-notes, borne on the balmy breeze,
Bestirr’d the rooks in the adjacent trees;
“Ring, ting, ting, tong, this is our song,”—say they—
To rouse ye sleepers for the holiday:
A thousand flues erst wind their dingy smoke;