No More Learning

230
Low barks the fox; by Havoc rouz'd the bear,
Quits, growling, the white bones that strew his lair;
The dry leaves stir as with the serpent's walk,
And, far beneath, Banditti voices talk;
Behind her hill the Moon, all crimson, rides, 235
And his red eyes the           Water hides;
Then all is hush'd; the bushes rustle near,
And with strange tinglings sings her fainting ear.