The shades of eve come slowly down, The woods are wrapt in deeper brown, The owl awakens from her dell, The fox is heard upon the fell;Enough remains of glimmering light To guide the wanderer's steps aright, Yet not enough from far to show His figure to the watchful foe.
With cautious step and ear awake, He climbs the crag and threads the brake;And not the summer solstice there Tempered the midnight mountain air, But every breeze that swept the wold Benumbed his drenched limbs with cold.
In dread, in danger, and alone, Famished and chilled, through ways unknown, Tangled and steep, he journeyed on;Till, as a rock's huge point he turned, A watch-fire close before him burned.
