The hill ascended strait, ere-while they came
To a tall grove, whose thick-embow'ring shade,
Impervious to the sun's meridian flame
Ev'n at mid-noon a dubious twilight made;
Like to that sober light, which disarray'd
Of all its gorgeous robe, with blunted beams,
Through windows dim with holy acts pourtray'd,
Along some cloister'd abby faintly gleams,
Abstracting the rapt thought from vain earth-musing themes.