His yell repeating;[368] yet it was in truth 325
A human voice—a Spirit of coming night,
How solemn when the sky is dark, and earth
Not dark, nor yet enlightened, but by snow
Made visible, amid a noise of winds
And bleatings manifold of mountain sheep, 330
Which in that iteration recognise
Their summons, and are gathering round for food,
Devoured with keenness ere to grove or bank
Or rocky bield with patience they retire.