A run of mountain beasts, that keep their track
Through generations, and for ages back
Had trod the self-same footing to and fro.
6
That would she try: so forth she took her way,
Turning her face from the dishonour’d dell,
Adown the broadening eastward lawns, which lay
In gentle slant, till suddenly they fell
In sheer cliff; whence the path that went around,
Clomb by the bluffs, or e’er it downward wound