And heal the harms of [thwarting thunder blue],
Or what [the cross dire-looking planet] smites,
Or hurtful worm with cankered venom bites.
When [evening gray] doth rise, I fetch my round
Over the mount, and all this hallowed ground; 55
And early, ere the odorous breath of morn
Awakes the slumbering leaves, or tasselled horn
Shakes the high thicket, haste I all about,
Number my ranks, and visit every sprout
With puissant words and [murmurs] made to bless. 60