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N° 65.
THE RAMBLER.
67

the air grew blacker, and a clap of thunder broke his meditation.

He now resolved to do what remained yet in his power, to tread back the ground which he had passed, and try to find some issue where the wood might open into the plain. He prostrated himself on the ground, and commended his life to the Lord of nature. He rose with confidence and tranquillity, and pressed on with his sabre in his hand, for the beasts of the desert were in motion, and on every hand were heard the mingled howls of rage and fear, and ravage and expiration: all the horrors of darkness and solitude surrounded him; the winds roared in the woods, and the torrents tumbled from the hills,

——χείμαῤῥοι ποταμοὶ κατʾ ὄρεσφι ῥἑοντες
Ἐς μισγαγκειαν συμβἀλλετον ὄβριμον ὕδωρ,
Τόνδε τε τηλόσε δοῦπον ἐν οὔρεσιν ἕκλυε ποιμήν.

 Work'd into sudden rage by wintry show'rs,
Down the steep hill the roaring torrent pours:
The mountain shepherd hears the distant noise.

Thus forlorn and distressed, he wandered through the wild, without knowing whither he was going, or whether he was every moment drawing nearer to safety or to destruction. At length not fear but labour began to overcome him; his breath grew short, and his knees trembled, and he was on the point of lying down in resignation to his fate, when he beheld through the brambles the glimmer of a taper. He advanced towards the light, and finding that it proceeded from the cottage of a hermit, he called humbly at the door, and obtained admission. The old man set before him such provisions as he had collected for himself,