The sage Bird of Night had long chosen her station
Aloft, where she sat in profound meditation:
[p20] The clustering Ivy her lone dwelling shaded,
Which no glaring Sun-beam had ever pervaded;
Within it, the Stranger had never intruded,
And there she had liv’d, from all Idlers secluded.
How great, then, were now her dismay and surprise;
Thrice she call’d on Minerva, and thrice rubb’d her eyes;
But doubted not long; for the Visitors now
Came full in her presence, and made a low bow.