The wily carp to ensnare, the fiery bridge
O’er which my fancy boldly trod, and found
Her way to realms unreal, topples down
With mimic crash, and lies a ruined mass
Upon the hearth. Yet by its waning glow
I see the hurried parting of my guests,
Retreating each within his narrow cell;
As when beneath a monastery roof
The low, sweet chant of vespers dies away,—
The last faint echoes lingering still within