Page:The Prelude, Wordsworth, 1850.djvu/186

164 A character more stern. The second night,

From sleep awakened, and misled by sound

Of the church clock telling the hours with strokes

Whose import then we had not learned, we rose

By moonlight, doubting not that day was nigh,

And that meanwhile, by no uncertain path,

Along the winding margin of the lake,

Led, as before, we should behold the scene

Hushed in profound repose. We left the town

Of Gravedona with this hope; but soon

Were lost, bewildered among woods immense,

And on a rock sate down, to wait for day.

An open place it was, and overlooked,

From high, the sullen water far beneath,

On which a dull red image of the moon

Lay bedded, changing oftentimes its form

Like an uneasy snake. From hour to hour

We sate and sate, wondering, as if the night

Had been ensnared by witchcraft. On the rock

At last we stretched our weary limbs for sleep,

But could not sleep, tormented by the stings

Of insects, which, with noise like that of noon,

Filled all the woods; the cry of unknown birds;

The mountains more by blackness visible

And their own size, than any outward light;