Of rigorous penance and austerest life,
With something too of majesty that still
Appear’d amid the wreck, inspired a sense
Of reverence too. The goat-herd on the hills
Open’d his scrip for him; the babe in arms,
Affrighted at his visage, turn’d away,
And clinging to the mother’s neck in tears
Would yet again look up and then again,
Shrink back, with cry renew’d. The bolder imps
Sporting beside the way, at his approach