Whilst deep between them, in thick glooms bedight,
A swampy dingle lay before his sight.
XLV.
Through the white billows thither did he wade,
And deep within its solemn bosom trod;
Then on the snow with oft repeated tread
Hardened a flooring for his night’s abode;—
All there was calm, for the thick branches made
A screen above, and round him closely stood
The trunks of cedars and of pines arrayed,—