O'er some new-open'd grave; and, strange to tell,
Evanishes at crowing of the cock—Blair.
Who can ever forget the night-watches proclaimed by the cock in that scene in Comus, where the two brothers, in search of their sister, are benighted in a forest?—
—Might we but hear
The folded flocks, penned in their wattled cotes,
Or sound of pastoral reed with oaten stops,
Or whistle from the lodge, or village cock
Count the night-watches to his feathery dames,
'Twould be some solace yet, some little cheering,
In this close dungeon of innumerous boughs.