That guided few save them the links who bore:
Benighted thus till with fatigue they sink,
Steep crag and glen profound they wandered o’er,
Their beacon fires alight—but none can find a shore.
XX.
And pealed their shouts incessant through the gloom,
With clamour wounding the dull ear of Night,
Till as in churchyards peopled grows each tomb
To midnight wanderers, rose their souls to fright
Infernal Phantoms! On each towering height