And blankly stared themselves to nought;
The horrent trees, pencil’d with fire,
Agued, shook down their dewy wealth;
The bat and screech-owl whirring clasht
In mid-air; exhalations thin,
In which the mad fires dance at night,
Wasted; from stream and shimmering pool,
The fatling water-babies peept;
The wavering mazes that on lakes
Fairies do keep, the swinking toil