Such britttle bonds, flew up the chimney swift
And gained high Melibœcus. See how sound
The village rustics sleep;—the hamlet lies
In that small dell. How silent its repose!
The birds are mute, not even the watch-dog's bark
Breaks the deep silence; and the evening breeze
Is hushed; there's not a leaf stirs. Haste away
To the deep forests and the boundless plains,
And chase a herd of buffaloes who spurn
The earth beneath them, as they course along
The wide savannahs and the prairies, where
The boldest hunter never yet hath dared
To track their footsteps.
Tenth Witch.
On swart Afric's coast,
Swept by a keen east wind, a locust cloud
Were drowned in ocean; the returning tide
Hath cast their loathsome bodies on the shore
To swell and putrify; that tainted air
I may breathe harmlessly. I'll drink my fill
