Seeking a place of refuge[212] at the root
Of yon black Yew-tree, whose protruded boughs
Darken the silver bosom of the crag,[CS]
From which she draws her[213] meagre sustenance.
There in commodious shelter may we rest.
Or let us trace this streamlet to its[214] source;
Feebly it tinkles with an earthy sound,
And a few steps may bring us to the spot
Where, haply, crowned with flowerets and green herbs,
The mountain infant to the sun comes forth,