Away, away! If not, alas, too late.
Homeward he drags an old man and a boy,
Faltering and falling and but half-awaked,
Asking to sleep again.’ Such their discourse.
Oft has a venerable roof received me;
Saint-Bruno’s once—where, when the winds were hushed,
Nor from the cataract the voice came up,
You might have heard the mole work underground,
So great the stillness there; none seen throughout,
Save when from rock to rock a hermit crossed