But every breeze, that swept the wold,
Benumb’d his drenched limbs with cold.
In dread, in danger, and alone,
Famish’d and chill’d, through ways unknown,
Tangled and steep, he journey’d on;
Till, as a rock’s huge point he turn’d,
A watch fire close before him burn’d.
XXX.
Beside its embers red and clear,
Bask’d, in his plaid, a mountaineer;