Raptured he paused.—Here then was Waban’s mead;
In yonder little glen, the fountain by,
He’d rear his shelter—here his flocks should feed,
Cropping the grass beneath the summer sky;
There by his cot he’d sow the foodful seed,
And round his garden raise a paling high;
And there at twilight, should his herds be seen,
Following the tinkling bell from pastures green.
LXXVII.
Ay, here, in fancy, did he almost see