That very voice, which, in some timid mood 335
Of superstitious fancy, might have seemed
Awful as ever stray Demoniac uttered,
His steps to govern in the Wilderness;
Or as the Norman Curfew’s regular beat,
To hearths when first they darkened at the knell: 340
That Shepherd’s voice, it may have reached mine ear
Debased and under profanation, made
The ready Organ of articulate sounds
From ribaldry, impiety, or wrath