I lay in slumber's shadowy vale
Samuel T. Coleridge.
III.
And more to lulle him in his slumber soft,
A trickling stream from high rock tumbling down
And ever-drizzling raine upon the loft,
Mixt with a murmuring winde, much like the sowne
Of swarming Bees, did cast him in a swowne.
No other noyse, nor peoples troublous cryes,