Whose shadows, as they deepen, bring repose

Unto all weary men; and wilt not thou

Free thy mail’d bosom from the corslet’s weight,

To rest at fall of eve?

Gon. There may be rest

For the tired peasant, when the vesper-bell

Doth send him to his cabin, and beneath

His vine and olive he may sit at eve,

Watching his children’s sport: but unto him

Who keeps the watch-place on the mountain-height,