Noon lulls us in a gloomy den,
And night is grown our day,
Up-rouse ye, then, my merry men!
And use it as ye may.
Frank. (to 1st. Out.) How lik'st thou this, Fernando?
1st Out. Well sung i'faith! but serving ill our turn,
Who would all trav'llers and benighted folks
Scare from our precincts. Such sweet harmony
Will rather tempt invasion.
Frank. Fear not, for mingled voices, heard afar,
Thro' glade and glen and thicket, stealing on
To distant list'ners, seem wild-goblin-sounds;
At which the lonely traveler checks his steed,
Pausing with long-drawn breath and keen-turn'd ear;
And twilight pilferers cast down in haste
Their ill-got burthens, while the homeward hind
Turns from his path, full many a mile about,
Thro' bog and mire to grope his blund'ring way.
Such, to the startled ear of superstition,
Were seraph's song, could we like seraphs sing.
Enter 1st Outlaw hastily.
2d Out. Disperse ye different ways: we are undone.
Frank. How say'st thou, shrinking poltron? we undone!
Outlaw'd and ruin'd men, who live by daring!
