This evening late, [by then the chewing flocks] 540
Had ta’en their supper on the savory herb
Of knot-grass dew-besprent, and were in fold,
I sat me down to watch upon a bank
With ivy canopied, and interwove
With flaunting honeysuckle, and began, 545
Wrapt in a [pleasing fit of melancholy],
[To meditate my rural minstrelsy,]
Till fancy had her fill. But ere a close
The wonted roar was up amidst the woods,