The splendid tenants of the etherial plains.
Then, when she sought her lonesome grot at eve,
And waved her hand, and warn’d him take his leave,
Her will was his: he breathed his plaintive moan,
Gazed one last look, then gently roll’d the stone.
Perhaps, such constant care and worship paid,
More fit for angel than for mortal maid,
At length had won her, with more grateful mind
To view his gifts, and pay respect so kind;
But, as her giant-gaoler she esteem’d