That homage paid, the young retire
With no unsatisfied desire; 105
Theirs is one long, one steady sleep,
Till the sun, tip-toe on the steep
In front of our beloved cot,
Casts on the walls her brightest beams.
Within, a startling lustre streams. 110
They all awaken suddenly;
As at the touch of magic skill,
Or, as the pilgrim, at the bell