All rampant, like great lions terribly,
And gnashing on each other: and anon,
Julio heard them, rushing one by one,
And laugh’d and turn’d. The hermit was away
For he was old and weary, and he lay
Within his cave, and thought it was a dream,
A summer’s dream! and so the quiet stream
Of sleep came o’er his eyelids, and in truth
He dreamt of that strange ladye and the youth
That held a death-wake on her wasting form;