NOTES:
_1223 torches' editions 1818, 1839.
_1385 bent]meant cj. J. Nettleship.


CANTO 4.

1.
The old man took the oars, and soon the bark
Smote on the beach beside a tower of stone; _1415
It was a crumbling heap, whose portal dark
With blooming ivy-trails was overgrown;
Upon whose floor the spangling sands were strown,
And rarest sea-shells, which the eternal flood,
Slave to the mother of the months, had thrown _1420
Within the walls of that gray tower, which stood
A changeling of man's art nursed amid Nature's brood.

2.
When the old man his boat had anchored,
He wound me in his arms with tender care,
And very few, but kindly words he said, _1425
And bore me through the tower adown a stair,
Whose smooth descent some ceaseless step to wear
For many a year had fallen.--We came at last
To a small chamber, which with mosses rare
Was tapestried, where me his soft hands placed _1430
Upon a couch of grass and oak-leaves interlaced.